i love how its name is familiar

2

au where jeongguk and jimin are both actors. they’ve heard of each other of course, how could they have not when the both of them are acknowledged as up and coming actors. it isn’t unexpected then, that they’re both signed on to act in a drama - two popular actors would do wonders for ratings. their story is a coming of age story, focusing more on the growth of the characters. there are mixed emotions when shooting for the drama ends, pride, relief, nostalgia. but jeongguk gets to go home with jimin’s hand in his, so he really doesn’t mind.

playboy seo doyoon (jeon jeongguk) is committed to his hedonistic lifestyle, never stopping to think about the consequences. it ends up being his downfall when he gets into a car accident while driving under the influence. forced to be at the hospital while he recovers which is where he meets his physiotherapist, park soobong (park jimin). they struggle a lot in the beginning, especially considering doyoon’s reluctance to participate in any of the therapeutic exercises and his distaste for the situation. however, soobong’s persistence in trying to get doyoon to cooperate soon pays off. this is when their journey officially begins.

living single [ m ]  → pt. 1

credit: here!

fake dating!au | college!au

pairings: kim taehyung x reader. park jimin x reader.

genres: fluff | humour | (future) smut | angst

word count: 13k

For what a weekly catch up between two best friends to compensate for time lost in the hectic peak of the semester was supposed to be, there was an awful lack of catching up taking place. The usual fast food joint was packed with the many lunch time customers creating a rather loud background noise, but the silence that was suspended within the air between Hoseok and you was driving him crazy.

Keep reading

Place one of these in my ask if we've never interacted before
  • "Do you know where the closest diner is?"
  • "You look familiar. Have we met before?"
  • "I'm sorry! I really should watch where I'm walking..."
  • "Are you hurt?"
  • "You have a lovely smile."
  • "Were you talking to me?"
  • "The sun is awfully bright today."
  • "... I think I know your sister/brother/mother/etc."
  • "I think you've mistaken me for someone else."
  • "Don't be an idiot!"
  • "What's your name?"
  • "I'm [...]. It's great to meet ya!"
  • "No, go ahead. I'm not in any rush."
  • "Where're you from?"
  • "This is just how I am."
  • "Get out of the way!"
  • "Why are you staring at me like that?"

I stay rooted in places
I can no more call mine
Your name still echoes here
Behind forgotten smell and familiar void

I wore that shirt
You loved so much
To try and hold you close 
As if our memories were 
Still buried in its pockets. 

I tucked a bit of our memories 
In those old frames of my mind 
A little more of nostalgia 
In your favorite coffee 

I wish it didn’t taste so bitter 
I wish it didn’t burn my throat 
I wish these tears would stop, 
But this wound keeps bleeding. 

And may be that’s how 
this time works 
A journey between closed 
and empty hands 

Like the ticking of a clock 
Every sweep brings me closer 
To letting you go, I only miss 
The way it felt, so much hope 
An entire galaxy in my palms. 

And now the lines on this hand 
Blurry and scarred 
Nothing to bring you here 
Just left it all to let it go 

Scattered like diamonds 
Shimmer in the night sky 
Polaris winking brightly 
He leads me back to hope.

A spontaneous Sunday collaboration between me and my lovely friend @drearydaffodil. The ones in italics are mine and the rest by her. Well this was fun. She somehow managed to turn it into a positive one. 

azn-fandom-trash  asked:

Hello there, Dark. As you can tell I'm a new being in your domain, and I'm in the process of familiarizing myself here. So...how does one become your "lovely?" It's a terminology I'm unfamiliar with myself as I don't know if it's considered as a pet name, nor do I consider myself what others would call "lovely."

“You have already become my lovely the second you showed your face.”

Dark responded and grinned, sardonic but pleasing to the eye thanks to the gift of a good looking face.

“Those who follow me are my lovelies, as it has been since the first moments I came about this place. You do not need to be claimed by me to be a lovely, you do not need to be physically attractive or even stable to be a lovely. Being a lovely is a statement of your knowledge, and open appreciation to me. It is a sign of your commitment to my being. It is what I call those I respect, and it is earned by those who respect me in return. Do not worry about your worth or your qualities, you are a lovely through and through.”

blacksmithgendry  asked:

me @ you for Acornhall: *Palpatine voice* do it

you know i can’t resist the dark side lol. its just that theres so much happening in this chapter. i love everything about it. the acorn symbolism! they represent potential and strength and loyalty and arya/gendry. they’re just this little seed now but they’re gonna grow into a tree that could withstand any storm. i love how gendry calls arya by her name. i love how they talk all casual and familiar because it shows how close they’ve become. i love how they tease each other. i love how its nighttime and their first date is literally in a candlelit forge. i love A NICE OAK TREE thats literally the cutest thing ive ever read in my entire life. i love the song. i love how arya takes the blame. i love how she was “”much the same at winterfell”” with gendry she can just be that little girl again. i love it alllllllllllll. 

i mean not even including the arya/gendry moments theres a clear romance theme to it on the whole. its all about love songs and sex and marriage. so their scene just goes with the flow. ive always felt that this scene was proof they would be reunited (and very likely endgame) because why would it otherwise exist??? esp now that grrm basically confirmed the subtext was intentional. its just that acorn hall is clearly only the beginning. they’re just kids and its cute and innocent but it’ll be more. i won’t even hold back tonight, truth is that little wrestling match is written with so much sexual ~subtext~ they’re literally rolling around in the dirt tearing each others clothes. i know grrm and i know whats he’s about lmao. some day…they’ll be together. 

(time this morning between opening my computer and triggering myself with my own damn archive: less than one minute.)

there are nice things. today i will have brunch with friends, for example. i like the quiet hour on the overground. the novel i am reading is annoying me but the train will make me focus, maybe, on getting through the annoying part. this past week was a disaster, but on friday i rebranded it as a deliberate if irresponsible planned staycation and took myself for a long walk in evening light of a quality that exists only in summer at far northern latitudes. a woman i am crazy about made me laugh, via text message from another country, so hard i had to stop and sit down. i texted another woman i am crazy about, in a more distant country, to tell her this, and she wrote me emoji stories about it. how lucky is it possible to be, i wonder, these days, not least because i am so afraid my luck will run out, but i try to stay there in that feeling of luck. then yesterday i had a nice lunch and an irresponsible afternoon pint with a sweet friend, and we sat outside under an awning and marveled together at the incessant rain. the rain, that was also a nice thing, so lovely after so long without, so cool. on the way to meet her i found a book i have wanted to read on a damaged-books display for a pound. on the bus home i trawled youtube until i found someone saying the author’s name, to learn its pronunciation, and i whispered it to myself over and over, looking out at the rain. the guttural catch in the back of the throat that is the familiar feeling of a language not your own. how being close to someone can make a deep need of getting certain things right; how you want that sound to sit easier in the back of your throat not merely as a matter of pride. so, here, now, this morning. coffee and poems and the donuts a flatmate brought back so late last night i didn’t hear her come in. where did she come by donuts so late at night? i don’t know. but i woke up to a text that said ‘help yourself to the donuts.’ so here we are. 

anonymous asked:

Hi Jessika! I don't have a tumblr account but I do read yours all the time and love it. I'm a journalism major and yesterday we had a guest speaker by the name of Andy Kahan, who I'm sure you're familiar with. It struck me by how much exposure people involved in both sides of murderabilia get. I don't know if it's personal to you or not, but would you be willing to share why you're so private and why you think everyone else is so open?

Hello there. Yes, I am familiar with Andy Kahan. In fact, he reads my blog every single day, policing it I assume in hopes of me posting something he hopes is “news-worthy” so he can run to the media about it. By exposure, I assume you mean media exposure and if so, I’ll just be real honest with you about the whole media frenzy surrounding “murderabilia”. The selling of murderabilia is a controversial topic and the people behind these interviews are who make it controversial.

The media (and I mean no offense to you, journalism student) is merely a pawn in the game. I know with 100% certainty that the media very rarely runs across websites such as mine by accident. They are pointed in the direction of it. Nine times out of ten Andy Kahan is the one contacting the news, pretending to be outraged over *insert random serial killer’s* selling artwork. He isn’t offended in reality, (he has stated as much, saying it’s just business) but it’s a perfect opportunity for him to be in the news and do his little anti-murderabilia campaign and try to bring attention to it.

It’s the same situation every time, no matter what local city/state. The media gets contacted by Kahan, the media contacts the “murderabilia” website in question and asks for an interview and then they proceed to look for any victim’s families from the serial killer in question so they can shove a camera in their face, show them the website that is selling things belonging to the person who killed their family member and catch the hurt, anger and pain on camera for their story, followed by interviewing Kahan, who gives his same tired quote of, “No one should be able to rob, rape, and murder and then turn around and make a buck off of it”.

In my opinion Andy’s entire agenda is fame. Think about it, he gets speaking gigs like the one you attended where he talks about all the media attention he’s received and for whatever reason, seeks out himself and seems to live for. But he hides that desire for fame under this false claim of being on a crusade of trying to ban murderabilia sales. He’s attempted this ban by creating a bill and turning it in to law makers. He’s attempted these bills on five separate occasions and it was turned down by lawmakers every single time without even getting a hearing. The reason why lawmakers are not willing to pass this bill and why they will never pass the bill is because it infringes upon first amendment rights. And I’m sure Andy knows the bill will not ever pass and he’s totally okay with that because it’s a win/win for him. He’ll always be in the news over it, faking outrage, he’ll always have a job known as the anti-murderabilia guy and apparently speaking engagements as well.

As for me and why I don’t agree to interviews, several reasons: First, I already know the game, as described above. I know Andy will be interviewed with his same old quotes and bashing my site and I know victim’s families will have it shoved down their throats. I’m not interested in any of that and you’d think Andy Kahan, the victim’s advocate, would not be interested in upsetting victim’s families, but clearly it makes no difference to him. My website does not exist to offend people, it exists for people who have an interest in true crime. I do not go out of my way to promote it on the news, on tv shows, magazines, etc although I have been asked to do so. It’s just there for people to come across who are looking for it and because it’s an interest of mine, I have social media sites for it as well, such as this one. If this is the kind of stuff that offends you, please don’t look at it because that’s not my goal.

Lastly, I have done a plethora of interviews in the past, but it was a different website, never for mine and I haven’t done any in 7-8 years and never enjoyed doing them to begin with. Most other sites owners of sites like mine are attention whores and love getting their site recognition, so they agree to the interviews, I simply don’t. So there’s my thoughts on the matter! Sorry this turned into the longest response ever, but hopefully this answered your question!

thewonderlandsystem  asked:

those are adorable names for dogs and I dunno much about Katharine or Morris but hell yeah poly relationships! its really cool to see poly headcanons set in older times and its just nice to see them in modern times. and don't worry I love a lot of villains myself haha. how was he the antagonist if you don't mind explaining? I'm not at all familiar with Newsies ._.

AAA THANK YOU!! I really want to get a dog named Cowboy because of this, honestly :D BUT GOSH YES POLY RELATIONSHIPS make me so happy especially when they’re healthy and everyone’s super happy with each other it’s so good! I wish I saw more of them <33333

But gosh man I’m so weak for villains, especially them having a soft side and actually being a big insecure baby like Morris is (in headcanon)!

But yES ABSOLUTELY (tysm for indulging in my obsession this is so nice!!!!) So Morris and his brother Oscar Delancey are basically the big meany bullies in the story and are the muscle to the big antagonist, Joseph Pulitzer. (also in the OBC, Morris was played by Mike Faist, who is NOW playing Conner in DEH im so proUD OF HIM)

So the Delancey brothers work at the circulation desk for The World (the newspaper owned by Pulitzer) with their uncle Wiesel and constantly antagonize the newsies (beat them up, make fun of them, threaten them, all good stuff)

In a way, they’re just doing their job–they’re suppsed to be the muscle to kind of keep the newsies in line and make sure things are all good, but they’re both shitheads and and do seem to enjoy it. Tho it’s probable that they were Newsies before their current job and were probably friends with the newsies that they’re antagonizing, so its a fun/weird dynamic.  It’s canon that their father never took care of them. (And, gauging Oscar’s response to being confronted about beating up his father in the trolley strike, there’s a lot of resentment there for whatever reason. Not that that excuses them being little garbage kids but still) And the newsies antagonize them back so lots of history there to play with anD YEAH IDK I LOVE THE DELANCEY’S THEY’RE GARBAGE BUT PRETTY MUCH EVERYONE IN THIS SHOW IS GARBAGE also this great picture

but yeah i dont think i really described him well but yeah he’s basically just a bully with his brother but adding deeper stories is way more fun and makes you love trash kids


ALSO!!!!!!!! the show’s on Netflix if anyone wants to WATCH IT!!!!!!!

Sorry, but Rachel Rostad is wrong about Cho Chang.

LOL, I love how I got unfollowed for calling out Tumblr’s precious Rachel Rostad and her rant on Cho Chang as being inaccurate and racist in its erasure of non-American Chinese (American-centrism FTW!)

Even though I’m hardly the first person of Chinese origin - or even the first person who’s actually linguistically familiar with Chinese - to say her video is inaccurate and racist (or even that Cho Chang can actually be a Chinese name)

But, naming aside, there is so much wrong with her poem it’s really hard to know where to begin.

I mean, I’m glad that she was looking forward to seeing an Asian (I really struggle to remember that “Asian” means racially very different things in a US and UK context) character in Harry Potter, but… “I no speak Engrish?” “Asian fetishisation?” Turning Asian women into a “tragic fetish” in which they kill themselves? What, because Cho cried a lot over a boyfriend who died in horrible circumstances?

(Let’s just remind ourselves that Cho didn’t kill herself, so the “tragic fetish” point Rostad makes is moot. And she speaks perfect English, too, so the “I no speak Engrish” point Rostad makes is, frankly, moot. Not to mention a racist Japanese stereotype rather than a Chinese one - but accuracy isn’t Rostad’s strong point, as I already mentioned.)

Granted, Rowling could have done a lot better in her treatment of Cho - and it’s certainly unfortunate that she chose a non-white girl to “contrast Ginny’s character and make her look stronger” - but I don’t think it was racism, I think Rowling was just unnecessarily unsympathetic to Cho’s crying over what was actually quite a tragic event - a sort of very British attitude of “oh get over it and pull yourself together” that many Brits take towards prolonged crying, and I think Cho would have got the same treatment if she was white.

Why? Because as far as I can tell (from both my own experience as a part-Chinese and from every other British-born Chinese I know or have met/read about) we’re NOT subjected to the “submissive giggling Asian geisha” racist stereotype that I hear US Asians are. Does it exist in the UK? Probably. I’m just more familiar with the “you all speak in a shouty language” and “you all run a Chinese takeaway” stereotypes. But hey.

Also, Cho wasn’t the weak submissive type Rostad has made her out to be. SHE FIGHTS IN DUMBLEDORE’S ARMY, FOR FUCK’S SAKE. We know from what Neville says in Book 7 and the little news Harry gets about Ginny that members who stand up to Snape’s regime risk torture and are often subjected to torture. We don’t hear what Cho’s up to, because the books are from Harry’s POV and Harry’s not in touch with her, but I don’t doubt that she runs the same risks and experiences. That takes guts. That takes bravery. That takes someone who’s not a “tragic fetish stereotype”. Has Rachel Rostad even read the fucking books?

And way before that, she stops crying so much and dates someone new. She and Harry, as far as I can tell, have no hard feelings upon breaking up. But no, Harry dating her is evidence of his “Asian fetishisation” (even though there’s nothing in the books to suggest that, and Rowling doesn’t even fetishise Cho in her writing of her) and “yellow fever”, terms I have literally never heard of before joining Tumblr. As I said, race issues in Britain ARE NOT the same as in the US - our racial makeup isn’t even similar, for a start. And mixed-race relationships are so commonplace in the UK, both in the media and our most populous city, that no-one really remarks on it. I imagine Harry Potter’s Britain reflects that.

Say “yellow fever” to any Brit, and they’ll probably think you’re talking about the tropical disease you get from mosquitoes. The only time I personally have encountered “Asian fetishisation” was when I was living in China, and a white American man tried to chat me up thinking I was a local (promptly losing interest when he realised I wasn’t, and that I wasn’t impressed). I don’t know of any Chinese person who’s encountered it in the UK - maybe it does exist, I don’t want to say a definitive “no” without proof; but if it does then I’m sure it takes a different form to the version I’ve been reading about from Asian-Americans in the feminist sphere. Because, you know, different racial issues/stereotypes, different national characters.

Personally, I don’t think anyone has the right to judge a mixed-race relationship without actually knowing anything about their relationship, and I find the automatic assumption by some sections on Tumblr (and in this case, Rachel Rostad) that a white man dating an Asian woman automatically has to be fetishising her, or seeing/treating her as some sort of giggling submissive slave, really offensive. (Out of all the East Asian / White British mixed relationships I know, and I know quite a few, NONE OF THEM are like that.) We Western Asian women have far more agency and intelligence than that, for fuck’s sake - don’t patronise us.

I think Rostad’s poem of seeing negative racial stereotypes against Chinese girls that aren’t really there (how the hell is Cho Chang being in “the clever house” of Ravenclaw a bad thing? Even after she proves to be competent (she learns how to do the patronus before Hermione does) and sporty (she’s clearly good at Quidditch - and sports are NOT something your stereotypical Asian family values; “Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother” was right in that regard) and brave (she helps fight the Death Eaters in Dumbledore’s Army)?) were more about her, and less about Cho - and less about actually doing her research on Chinese names, culture, or even the possible dynamics of Chinese/White inter-racial relationships in Britain. I find that appalling, because we are literally being misrepresented by someone who doesn’t fucking know what she’s talking about.

And that’s even leaving aside that she’s a Korean-American who knows nothing about being Chinese, let alone being Chinese in Britain. But Tumblr takes her word for it, because, hey, she looks Asian, she must know what she’s talking about!

Sorry to rant, but this has actually been upsetting me for days.

4

and i thought i saw you out there crying, and i thought i heard you call my name…

Safe Inside

I’ve never done a Supernatural story before because I absolutely love the series and I didn’t want to disappoint myself or other people. After listening to this song, I decided to actually write it. It’s different from all the other material I write so I hope you all like it. P.S. The reader is written in an ambiguous perspective, it doesn’t apply to a specific race because I’m black and I know we carry ourselves differently and have different hair texture.

Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester X Reader
Song Inspo
: Safe Inside by James Arthur
I remember when you were all mine
Watched you changing in front of my eyes


“John how could you not tell me?!” Mary stomped after her husband.  Dean heard the commotion and slipped from his cozy bed. His eyes were half opened, his hair all ruffled, but he was quiet nevertheless. Being careful, Dean slowly turned the doorknob to watch his parents argue. “What did you want me to say?! I’m sorry Mary, I had an affair during the job? How would you have reacted?” Mary crossed her arms. “I guess we’ll never know now will we?” John fixed his gaze at his feet. “We have two kids, you are aware of that, right? What about Sam, what about Dean? Imagine if she was pregnant.” Curious enough, Dean managed to step out of hiding and timidly ask, “What is pregnant?” Mary gasped and dropped to her knees. She moved his hair out of his face and forced a smile. “Dean, what are you doing up? Go back to bed.” Dean nodded and trudged his way back to his room. On his way there he caught his mother saying something to his dad. Something that he may never forget. “You hurt me, John. You really did.”

That night a fire happened and his mother was still inside. One of the officers came over to tell John that they couldn’t rescue Mary. Ever since that night, a piece of John was chipped away. Two years later, Dean opened the door to find a baby in front of their motel door. John was out on a job and Sam was watching cartoons inside. Against his better judgment, Dean dragged the basket inside. Dean looked back outside to find a bag of baby things in there like formula, bottles, three changes of clothes, more than a few diapers, wipes, a pacifier, a bib, a washcloth, and a note. Dean left the note aside and looked at the little girl. She awoke but instead of crying, she just looked at Dean and smiled. When Dean reached for her, she grasped his finger tightly making Dean return a smile. In that moment, it was like she was imprinting on Dean because he had already fallen in love with the newborn.

Over the collection of a few days, Dean cared for her. Even three-year-old Sam began to like her. Dean almost hit Sam when Sam tried to give her cold milk from his cereal. Dean explained that she was a baby and had to eat baby things. When she ran out, Dean charmed a woman from downstairs to go buy her some baby food. He’d even crafted a list of what she might like and gave it to the lady. The woman was a little skeptical but Dean told her that their dad went to work and couldn’t get the food. Unexpectedly, John actually did come home that night. Dean handed him the unopened letter. After reading it, John lost his mind and picked up the baby, heading towards the front door. Dean yelled, screamed, and cried for him to keep the baby. John stopped when Dean asked if it was that woman that mom was talking about the night she died. A cold tear ran down his face at the realization. “We can’t afford another kid, Dean.” Dean stuck his head high, wiped away his tears, and grabbed the car seat. “I’ll take care of her, after all, she’s my sister, right?” John choked back a cry at his son’s boldness. “You, uh, it needs a name.” Dean frowned at his father’s choice of words. “Her, she’s a girl, not a thing, and her name is…Y/N. Y/N Winchester.”

If you’re home I just hope that you’re sober
Is it time to let go now you’re older
Don’t leave me this way

*15 years later


“Hey dad, there’s this dance and I was wondering–” John cut you off with a stern voice. “Dance? How many times do I have to tell you? This isn’t a game.” You nodded your head and smiled to avoid breaking down. “Yeah, I know but I just figured–” “You always figure, you never think.” John rose from the table and folded his newspaper. “You’re staying here, in the motel. End of story.” John grabbed his coat and slammed the door on his way out.

Sam was three years older than you, so he understood what position you were in. “Asshole,” Sam scoffed. He pulled up a chair next you and handed you a soda. Dean was out with dad, so he didn’t have the chance to comfort you but lately he was never home just like him. “So this dance, were you planning on going with someone?” You smiled and took a sip. His name was Jacob but all his friends called him Crush. Crush was always there for you in ways that no one else was. When you felt like dying, Crush would pick you up outside the motel and take you out into the open. The two of you would smoke and drink and talk until it was time to take you back home. You knew the dangers of hanging out with a slightly older guy, but he made you feel safe. Kind of like Dean.

Sam elbowed you gently and the two of you chuckled. “What’s his name?” You softly said “Jacob.” Sam nodded his head and grabbed his coat. “Let’s go,” You furrowed a brow. “You got to get a dress if you want to dance, right?” You shrieked and followed Sam out the door. After a while of searching the thrift store, you found a long green sleeved sweater dress and a pair of white clean converses. It was a total of forty bucks, but so worth it. Sam suggested you wore your hair down and it was like the whole outfit changed. You were beautiful and radiant. Sam dropped you off the dance after giving you a lecture about not staying out too long and to stay safe, stay sharp.

Crush greeted you by dropping to his knees and bowing before you. It made you laugh so much that you forgot about your neglecting father, your protective brother Dean, and even Sam. Throughout the night he paid special attention to you, grabbing you drinks when you seemed thirsty, asking if you were okay every 15 minutes, and making sure you ate. After the dance, Crush took you to an arcade and the two of you laughed until your sides hurt. It was nothing compared to when you lost your virginity to him. You asked him to drive you to your special spot and you both had sex. Afterward, he told you that he loved you and that he would do anything for you if you asked.

Dean paced in the middle of the motel room, waiting for your arrival. Once you walked in, hair a little messy, a huge smile, and glowing skin, Dean ran up to you and grabbed your shoulders. “Y/N, where have you been?!” He had dried tears on his face and he raised his voice in a way you’ve never heard before. “I was at the dance,” Dean clenched his jaw and took a step back. “The dance? What are you crazy?! Dad said you weren’t allowed to go”

Speak of the devil, John walked in the motel with his arms crossed. The expression on his face shouted disgust and anger. “The dance was over three hours ago, where’d you go?” Something bubbled up inside of you and you remembered what Crush told you, “You gotta be strong.” With a new sense of confidence, you fixed your stare onto John. “Now you care? That’s new.” John rose his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side, “excuse me?” “You heard me, John. You haven’t paid attention to me for 15 years, you must be possessed.” Dean widened his eyes at his sister’s boldness. Sam on the other hand, silently chuckled. “Young lady–” “What’s my name?” You cut him off. Dean stepped in and tried to pull you to the side but you yanked your arm away. “I’ve never once, heard you say my name. It’s not my fault that I’m the mistake. I didn’t ask to be born–”

Dean had heard enough. “Y/N, knock it off!” Sam tried to mediate the situation but it just pissed Dean off even more. “Get out. Come back when you’ve got some sense.” A piece of you died inside. Dean was acting just like him, a mere shadow. “Dean…” “Shut up, Sam!” A tear rolled down your cheek as you fled from the motel room. You called Crush and told him to come pick you up. While you waited, you walked to the front desk and waited inside. Once Crush pulled up, you jumped in and never looked back.

Will you call me to tell me you’re alright
Cause I worry about you the whole night

“I’ll load up.” Sam picked up his bags and headed for the car. Dean gathered his things together into his bag. He sighed at a folded piece of paper that fell out of dad’s journal. Dean was about to place back in its place when he saw a familiar name of a motel. Unfolding the paper, Dean read its contents:

Dear Dean and Sam,
You’re my brothers and despite how I came to be, you never let me think that I was anything less than your sister. I can’t stand the way he looks at me. Like I’m the reason, Mary… Anyways, I’m going off to live a life that I deserve. It’s not one with you and I’m sorry about that. I really am. Here’s how to contact me 476-XXX-XXXX, I’ll be waiting for your call. I love you.

- Sincerely yours, Y/N Winchester

Tears rolled down Dean’s face as he finished the letter. Sam walked back in, confused. “Dude, what are you–are you crying?” Sam rarely saw his brother cry. Dean handed Sam the letter and waited until he read it. Sam could barely speak. When he did, his vocals wavered, “where’d you find this?” Dean raised dad’s journal. Sam was no longer sad. “So all these years, we thought she ran away without telling us where and how to find her.” Dean didn’t speak. He remembered yelling at her that night. He didn’t mean to, he was just scared because he didn’t know where she went. The thought of losing his sister scared him more than any creature they hunted. “Dad lied to us! He knew about the letter and he didn’t tell us about it…Dean?” Dean placed his head in hands and cried. Sam rubbed his back while he let out all the guilt that built up over the five years that you’d been gone.

If you make the same mistakes
I will love you either way
All I know is that I can’t live without you
There is nothing I can say
That will change you anyway
Darling, I could never live without you
I can’t live, I can’t live

After two weeks of tracking you down, they finally found you in Ormond Beach, Florida. “You sure this is it?” Sam read the address again. “Yup, 23 South Division St. Ormond Beach, Florida” Dean looked at the house again. It was beautiful. The house was a camel color with white pillars in the front. The house had a beautiful view of the beach. Just like you always wanted. The brothers stepped out of the car and walked up to the front. Sam knocked on the big wooden door. After no response, Dean scratched the back of his head. He wasn’t ready to see you yet. “Well, no one’s here looks like we got to go,” Dean already made his way back to the car. “Dean, wait,” Sam pulled him back. “I know it’s scary but, she’s our sister.” “Dean? Sam? Is that you?” Dean turned around. You wore black skinny jeans, a red and black flannel shirt, and a little boy’s hand. He looked three. Dean’s heart sunk at the sight. Another kid, about 11 stood behind her. “Terry, can you take him inside please?” The older boy nodded and walked past the confused brothers.

The three of you talked for a while until you brought them inside. Sam looked around the room at all the pictures. Half of them were with a guy who seemed to care for you. “Who’s he?” You smiled and went upstairs. When you returned, you held the long-sleeved green dress, Sam bought her. Sam laughed and immediately knew who it was, “Jacob.” You explained that Crush proposed to you last month. The little boy from earlier waddled towards you. You picked him up and kissed him on the forehead. Dean looked closely and saw that he had your eyes and your smile. “This big guy is my son, Arrow Smith Winchester.” Dean laughed while Sam groaned. “Arrow Smith?” At that moment, Crush walked in. “She named him after your favorite band. We couldn’t exactly call him Led or Zeppelin. I assume you’re both Sam and Dean?”

*Six months later

“I can’t do this,” Sam laughed. He rubbed your shoulders while you looked at your reflection. “Yes, you can. You can do anything, you’re a Winchester.” You smiled and embraced Sam with a hug. Dean walked in the room and quickly closed the door. “You ready–” Dean stopped short once he saw you. You looked gorgeous. From the time that you entered his life, Dean watched you grow into the woman you are now. It was like you’d never left and there was no way Dean would let you go ever again. You hugged Dean as well. “Thank you, for everything and more, for making me feel safe.”

Thinking about my reply re: Root and Harold and the nature of names between them (and between the team), how Root uses a person’s nickname to ‘hack’ a feeling of closeness and familiarity and Harold’s initial resistance to call Root anything but ‘Miss Groves’ as both an act of defiance and a reminder to Root that she isn’t above humanity.

I love @poipotc’s observation that the moment Harold starting seeing Root bend (and not just because its the Machine’s prompting) about her ‘bad code’ philosophy that’s when he started calling Root by her chosen name.

I also remain fascinated by the dynamic between Root and Harold that isn’t often explored:

Once upon a time Root kidnapped Harold and he was her victim, that he did get PTSD and its something that vestiges of that still remain. I love that while Harold has come to care for Root this doesn’t erase the knee jerk mistrust and fear that lingers.

I also love while Harold is one of the few people Root cares for, there is still a dark part of her that views Harold as hers in a possessive sort of way.

I love imagining there are still days when being alone with Root would give Harold a half’s second pause. His heart would race for just a moment and a second where his whole body, already stiff from old injuries would become rigid.

I’m sure Root would notice and there would be a part of her that still enjoys that reaction, if only for a minute before they both shake off the feeling.

And I love, love that Michael Emerson is cognizant that Harold still has misgivings of Root even if he cares for her and I also love that Amy Acker always responds from Root’s point of view.

This is why Harold and Root’s scene with Martine (Aslyum) is still so fascinating to me.

As I mentioned before:

I’ve played that scene in the Asylum again and again and each time I find something interesting and new. Starting from Martine severely underestimating Root, and possibly not doing her reading about Root, to Root’s furious realization of Martine’s tactics to intimidate and dominate. Harold’s fearful and submissive body language and how entirely furious and burning with rage Root was.

Yes, Root is protective of Harold but it seemed there was also something in the way Root’s eyes burned at Martine daring to touch Harold and the way Martine implied she would do more… what ever more would be.

Martine invading both Root and Harold’s personal space is one of the markers of someone who wants to intimidate another person and Root knows all about intimidation tactics and power plays. When Martine tried that tactic  by reaching out and touch Root’s cheek but Root refused to play Martine’s game.

Harold on the other hand? Was not in a position nor mindset to react against Martine. Root knows how Harold reacts when someone else is in pain. How he makes himself small and can’t even bear the sight.

And she got that insight because she put Harold in that position, she knows Harold’s buttons.

Martine already took Shaw, and while Shaw was not, strictly speaking hers (Shaw is like a cat, she doesn’t belong to anyone but you belong with her), Harold most definitely is Root’s and no one gets to hurt and kill Harold.

In a very different context from the one with Shaw, Root can‘t bear the thought of anyone hurting Harold without her leave.

Cold December Night

Notes: I wanted this done earlier, but finals are killing me. Inspired by Cold December Night by Michael Buble. 

The wind bit against her exposed cheeks and small frame. The days had only gotten colder as their time on the ground got longer. Clarke had pictured this time of year so differently. The stories she had heard as a child always took place under a thick blanket of snow.

Snow. Pristine white flakes falling upon the Earth and cleansing it of its imperfections. She would always dream of snow on the Ark. How would it feel? What would it smell like? What would it taste like?

As the temperature dropped, she waited with baited breath for this magical weather. But so far, all she had gotten was below freezing temperatures and an increase in firewood consumption. She had yet to wake up to find her world a snow-filled paradise, just someone telling her they had hypothermia.

They didn’t.

Clarke snuggled deeper into her layers, hoping the thin material might shield her from the ice trying to make its way into her bloodstream.

Screw you winter.

Through the rough wind that had picked up during her short trek, Clarke heard a familiar voice calling her name.

Bellamy made his way towards her purposefully. Did he really walk any other way? Yes, she thought with a grin. Cockily. The only two ways Bellamy Blake is able to walk; purposefully and cockily. She hated how much she loved it.

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tragically-undead-blog  asked:

You know how cats do that thing where they kinda headbutt you, but in a loving way? Do you think it's weird to kinda "head butt" him back? I mean, that's his way of showing me he loves me, why shouldn't I show him I love him, right? Is that weird?

Kitty headbutts actually have a formal name: bunting. It’s a behavior that cats use to mark their scent on people, things, other cats, etc. Not only is this your cat’s way of making its surroundings familiar and comfortable, but the action of bunting is a pleasant one that releases happy little brain chemicals for it. There’s nothing about bunting that your cat doesn’t enjoy.

As for how you can respond to bunting, I don’t think you’re alone in feeling the urge to bunt back. I can tell you that my cat Wall-E loves to bunt and be bunted upon. He loves to be cradled like a baby, and we headbutt each other constantly. I don’t know about crawling up to your cat out of the blue on all fours and headbutting him, but if your cat is trying to bunt you, I recommend reciprocating. He’ll love you for it.

You can learn all about bunting and allorubbing (yes! that’s a real thing!) right here.

don't suppose you know where this train goes

a little drabble based off the song ‘Paris’ by 1975. 

Pairing: Niall / Harry

WC; 1.3k

There is a banner outside the club, neon red lights strung together to form the word ‘ALWAYS’, on top of the grungy metal door that creaks every time the bouncer pulls the handle to open it, the metal grinding harshly against the solid concrete pavement. There’s a queue that’s winding around the brick building, young girls dressed in fish-net tights and too tight leather jackets, fags hanging off their cherry stained lips, tattoos hidden under the meager clothing, the crop tops that shy away around the curve of their breasts.

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so at our pretty much weekly Pho adventure(which I am loving btw), confectionary and I got to talking about coli bosses, and we have to agree to disagree on how many of the venues should have bosses but somehow we got on the subject of the Mire, and of KELPIES AND BADASS KELPIE BOSSES IN THE MIRE.

I hate bosses but I would be okay with this so much.

Lol omg my designs keep getting darker and darker. which one should I pursue? I liked the idea of an elk based design but its not working out like I’m wanting booooo.