i put my soul on this one

Sweet Tea Part 1

OK, y’all. Here I go with the beginning of the Sweet Tea series. If you have not done so already, please read the pre-series warning I have on my master list before you start this series. (My Heart in Ink on my page and here)

Warnings: None for this part other than swearing.

Pairings: Jared x Reader, Sara (OC)

AN: I want the record to show that I am actually terrified to post this series… Not because of the negative feedback from the things I write but because this story is me literally ripping my heart and soul out and putting it on paper. I am a domestic violence survivor. Keep that in mind when you want to start to ripping me apart in future parts. You were warned.


“How is this seriously happening right now?” you thought to yourself as you began to read one of your student’s papers where he tried, unsuccessfully to compare the visual styles of Alfred Hitchcock to Tim Burton. You sighed as you flipped the page, wishing you didn’t have to read any more. “This is what I get when I give them free range to choose their own paper topics.” You shook your head as you read another page of insufferable bullshit and your (Y/H/C) fell in front of your face. You took the red pen in your hand and spun your hair around it, securing it in place and grabbed another red pen out of your bag without having to draw your eyes away from the train wreck in your hand.

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I don’t know
how to put it
you touched my soul
in a way no one ever had
it’s as if
you swam to my depths
and cleared the rubble
only to show me
there was so much more to see
Chaos Reigns Chapter 21- Night of the hunter

Trigger warnings:  Torture, blood, gore things, drugs, language, alcohol

“No, J… Stop please… I can’t…” My words were slipping from my lips in strangled cries as looked up to his face, that sinister smirk spread across it, his head thrown back with the maniacs cackle. He’s gone again, beyond sanity, he’s dived into the world where I am the soul beneficiary to every ounce of hate and resentment one man can muster towards a human being. How could he hate me so much? What the hell did I do? He didn’t care about the take over; we moved past this didn’t we? Why now, why like this? Why not just put a hit on me? Or just kill me. Please just fucking kill me! I searched his eyes, eyes I didn’t recognise anymore, they weren’t… right…something was not right? I just didn’t care anymore I wanted out of this hell.

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someone: hey do you have an extra hair tie??

me: no sorry :(

someone: but there’s one on your wrist

me: this is not…an…EXTRA hair tie… this is MY hair tie. this is THE hair tie. i’ve put my heart and soul into this hair tie. this hair tie is a masterpiece. i have spent weeks getting it to be the perfect amount of stretched to twist around my hair comfortably and not leave those dents and red marks on my wrists. this is NOT an EXTRA hair tie. this is my life’s work


Steve and Bucky are each other’s soul mates, if you will, because no one on Earth understands what either of them has been through as well as the other does. As the Red Skull himself says to Bucky, ‘The Captain has a… soft spot for you. A spot I plan to put a bullet into this very evening.’ - The writers of the Captain America trilogy


Happy Birthday Elichika!

I put my makeup on, I dried my hair, I stared into the mirror.

I thought about my person—the person my future is waiting to give me. I wondered how they would fit against my body, how their words would complement my voice, how their soul would intricately weave into mine. I looked at my reflection, all dim hope and the glint of sharp sadness in my eyes. I thought of the boy from my past. I remembered the way he looked at me, the way our thoughts followed the same winding paths. I realized no one else makes sense like he did. Like he still does. 

I put my shoes on, I grabbed my keys. My future is seventy miles away and two years behind me, but I’ll pretend it isn’t.

—  i’m still so fucking haunted by him. is that supposed to mean something?

Publishing work is intimidating; publishing something that you’ve been working on for months, something with a heavy word count and a lot of people involved, is even scarier. You never want to be torn down for something that you’ve spent so much time on. Fortunately, this fandom is typically very encouraging.

I know how it feels to post a monster fic, and to be so excited for people to read it. It’s exhausting and nerve wrecking but most of all, it feels like relief.

With that being said, @tvshows-addict and @anhcor just released a massive fic called Where Your Heart Is. I chat with some of the people (or rather, person) working behind the scenes to help make this story come to fruition, and I know it’s been labor intensive and a lot of work for everyone involved. When a community has come together to create something this big - a community clearly filled with love and support - you know it’s something special. I haven’t read the fic yet - let’s be real, it’s 155k, unless I’m a robot, I obviously haven’t read it yet - but knowing that this fic has been in the works for months and has had so many people actively taking part in it makes me think it has to be good ;) Congrats to the writers and betas! (Now go take a nap!) xx


i thought up this script at like 2am a few days ago 

all i know is that it’s a big fucking joke

another joke is how much effort i put into jasper’s face. like damn. what a face.

Signs as deep TØP lyrics

Aries: The ghost of you is close to me, I’m inside- out

Taurus: You’re dead, ‘Cause how could you sleep at a time like this

Gemini: I ain’t the same, And my name became, A new destiny to the grave

Cancer: Get up 'Cause the world has left you lying on the ground

Leo: It will not let me sleep, guess I’ll sleep when I’m dead.

Virgo: Don’t wanna give you all my pieces, don’t wanna hand you all my troubles

Libra: We’re all diseased, you hold the key

Scorpio: Take the pain, ignite it, Tie a noose around your mind

Sagittarius: No one else is dealing with your demons

Capricorn:No one looks up anymore

Aquarius: There is no distraction to mask what is real

Pisces: I put socks on my feet, just so that my soul won’t fall through my toes

The very beginning, the very beginning– where do I start? Remember when you were lonely and wanted to have that one best friend who would talk to you until the sun forgets that it’s the sun, it needs to set in order for the stars to come out, it needs to share the sky with the moon– you see my best friend, she makes my soul feel every word– every word turned into a poem, no rock unturned, no road unexplored, no part of the ocean drowns me when we’re talking, no part of the sky is a mystery unless she says so, my best friend puts poetry into each fingertips and proclaims that I’m her favorite kind of poetry that likes to bleed into my readers, she says that my hearts too big, a million suns just won’t fit in there, my soul is too colorful, I’ve been eating paint and speaking in art. Wouldn’t you know, she makes everything have meaning. If you woke up a little later than usual just because you wanted to see the clouds come a little closer, she says dear little brother, don’t keep your head in the clouds for too long, you must come down, because even poets must stay grounded, and like a kite-string, my heartstrings tend to reach out for people who don’t understand, that when I say I love you– I mean it with every fiber, every cell, every memory, every teardrop, every raindrop, every erupted volcano, every wave from the ocean, every time I trip over a rock, every ring in a tree, every edge on a mountain, every wrinkle on her face, every letter in I love you, every second mark on a clock, every last drop of that bottle, every chemically engineered poison in that pill, and every poem that plans to write me. I give meaning just like that. She makes it so. She makes my hands write better. She makes my soul a little less lost. She makes my heart a little more full. She makes these words and every single fucking letter– they will always end in a poem. So when I say red, it’s because she’s just the right amount of sunset and sunrise trying to fit into our palms, you can hold the sky if it’s with the right person. So when I say pen, it’s because of this ink spilled smile that I keep having, some words have more meaning than others, but words can’t give meaning to our story. We’re a little swept under the rug, they have forgotten about us. We’re a little deeper than poetry, when I say she has my heart, when I say she has my soul, I mean guidance and quills must know love like how love has known us, when I say that she has my smile, when I say that she has my love– darling, my love won’t sleep, my love won’t sleep. When I bloom into pretty things it’s because of you and when I shine into the night it’s because of you. So when I say ankles, I’ve been breaking a leg to show you off, you’re the best thing about me. I’ve been watching the gestures and body language not given to people who don’t matter, you matter even if the sky tends to break past 2 am. If my first words were mother, my last words will be sister. She’s life that’s not strangers with death, some poetry is tragedy passed on as a love story, she lives her life near clouds and claims that she’s not fade just because it changes from night to day. She’s the one cloud that keeps track of her rainfall meter, she loves to write poetry and books, she’s the only thing that needs to see if you’ve been crying lately because those things are important. We need to let things out. It’s not safe to keep it in, it’s always good to vent. Everyone needs an outlet. If you’re planning to write your soul dry, might as well do it right. You’ll have a few typos, that just means it’s real. You’ve only been doing more feeling rather than overthinking, it’s all a step toward something. Maybe you won’t be perfect, but at least someone’s going to understand. We burn fast. We do. We love life, so we live it. We’re burnt out a few days, but we get right back up. She’s the kind of friend that’ll tell you off if you’re wrong. She makes sure to keep you straight. And if you can’t handle her bluntness, then you aren’t accepting. She accepts all of your flaws, but you must know about them. Darling, I’ve been holding onto your arms for too long, some nights I keep it short. I have less long nights when you’re my pillow. I sing my heart out when my shadows forget how to smile, I’ve been trying to be less poetic and more of myself– living your life in these words can drive you mad, she’s the person drinking tea with the mad hatter, she broke the rabbits clock and let’s him run loose– but she always makes sure to apologize to Alice for keeping her for way too long. We’re all a rabbit hole away from being artists and writers forever. I guess I made a home out of poems and lyrics, I guess I’m still a little bit crazy. My best friend? She’s the kind of person who says that things will look up even if the world is on fire and you’re 60 pills in during a solid week of fuck it. I’ve been having a rough time, but she reminds me to be soft. That being this sensitive will pay off one day. That being this poetic will make sense even if the clouds remain grey. That being this kind of person, it’s me. I can’t change the how. I am how I am because of the eyes that still look for love even if I’m all out of it. I can’t change my lungs, but she helps with the breathing. I can’t change this heart, so she makes sure to keep my feelings warm. A cup of poetry and a shot of honesty, I’ve been licking my own wounds while taking a shot at being better than how I’ve been to people that I’ve loved. I’m not perfect, I’m far from it. I’m not amazing, the poetry just paints me out to be. These words they come easy when you’ve been in love as long as me. You see, that’s the thing. Love changes us. Forever. A simple touch of vibrant colors and you’re set on fire. A simple thing turned complex by feelings. My best friend? She makes sure that I’m stable. She makes sure that these constellations are accurate. They don’t stray too far from my skies. We live and love in a code of words. We have a language between us that only we get. We have the kind of heart that likes to break, but maybe it’s just the wind. Maybe it’s just the weather. I won’t love everything about myself today, but as long as she’s here. I can always try. If the words leave us one day, know this one thing. We’ve all got a method to our madness, we just need the right kind of person to understand the formula to the questions. And that’s the best thing about her.

Most days? She’s the only answer that I know.
—  Poets, poems and poetry

One of my favorite bits in Bob’s Burgers is when one of the Belchers pays the other a compliment and there’s a moment where you think it’s gonna go into some one-off insult, but then they just play it straight through and it’s genuine like when Gene told Bob his eyes were soulful, or when Gene put pasta on his head to look like a wig and Tina told him he was gorgeous. 

missgrantscheerleader  asked:

Supercat, Moonstruck au

When Kara wakes, Cat is trying to dress in silence, pulling her stockings back up to mid thigh and that sight alone is enough to have Kara reaching for her, ready to go again.

“This never happened,” Cat hisses when Kara’s fingertips skim the lace edge of her stocking. There’s a run in it, over the curve of Cat’s calf. Kara has never seen anything so beautiful. “You hear me? Put this in your super vault of super secrets, and we never tell a soul.”

“Oh I’d love to,” Kara sighs, her mouth a little dry and her voice still raspy from sleep. She sits up, stretching and strategically letting the sheet drop. Cat can’t look away, she’s transfixed. “But there’s one small problem.”

“The fact that you were supposed to be on a first date with my son and ended up in bed with me instead? That’s not problem enough, Kara?”

“I’m in love with you.” The admission feels almost as good as some of the things Cat did to her last night. Life-altering, possessive, frighteningly pleasurable things. 

Cat pulls Kara’s stroking fingers away from her, sitting down heavily on the edge of the bed. “And if I slapped you and told you to snap out of it?”

It’s an option, one Kara considers for a long moment. “There’s nothing to be done. It’s just a fact. Like gravity, or the sky being blue.”

“He won’t forgive me,” Cat covers her face, groaning. Kara moves in closer, wrapping her arms around Cat from behind. 

“He will,” Kara promises. “And I was never his to lose. I am yours though.”

“And I don’t want to lose you.” Cat finally admits it, leaning back against Kara and accepting the soft kiss on her cheek. “I might need time.”

“Anything you need,” Kara promises. “But time right now belongs to me. There’s nowhere you need to be in such a hurry.” She unzips the dress Cat hadn’t gotten all the way zipped up yet. “So come back to bed.”