Hugo’s first holiday means he gets to go on lots of new adventures, and suffer through me making him pose for a ton of photos.

I worked a busy shift all morning then without skipping a beat I went out and laughed all afternoon and spent time with loved one and came home to do all the dishes and laundry and I am so exhausted and fulfilled by this momentum!!!!

I’m just so tired of not sucking jins dick??? Like this is seriously so disgusting and cruel? And me? I am emotionally exhausted. how am I supposed to believe in a God that would make me exist the same time as Kim seokjin and not let me suck his dick. For shame

  • me:wild's only been out for over a month i can finally relax-
  • troye:*releases full version of talk me down and plans to drop the music video next week, announces preorder of October 15th for album and a release date of December 4th, sets up scavenger hunt for tickets in current tour date cities for people who missed out, is releasing new merch from his store every week, has a world tour that will begin by the end of this year, is generally just being the absolute best version of himself right now*
  • me:never mind
we never talk about the painful side of studying in the studyblr community

the part that leaves you at your desk at midnight with a raging headache. the part that leaves you pulling your hair out while trying to finish a topic. the part that leaves your mind aching from having to cram as much material into it. the part that leaves your heart hurting from all the pressure you’re putting on yourself. 

learning is a joy, i love it and i know how blessed i am to receive all these opportunities at such a young age. but god damn i am so exhausted. 



It is 4:13 AM. I have been up all night, finishing up the final touches. Suffice to say, it has been a very long night. It’s been a very long semester. Twenty-hour days spent juggling every single one of my commitments, including this. This book was written in the early hours of the mornings, because that was literally my only free time. I would hunch over in my chair, similar to my position now, shaking from the lack of sleep. And I’d write word after word, determinedly, because I told myself (and you) that I would release this book in April. Well, it’s April 30th. And like the college student that submits their essay at the last minute…I still made the deadline! But enough about me and my exhaustion! Let us talk about Minnie and hers:

Summary: Minerva Banks had faced more pain in the past year than she had in her entire life, and that was saying something. Still, the aches of an exhausting year were nothing compared to the malicious pain that tore her body apart, as friends became enemies, as enemies became friends, as she made some of the most important decisions of her life, for better or worse.

Link to Book Four:


Link to my other books:


Before I officially collapse, I want to give a huge shoutout to all of you, who have helped me make this deadline, especially @curlyhumility , who went above and beyond.

DeanCas coda to 11x19: The Chitters

No matter how many times he re-settles on his pillow, no matter how many times he tosses and turns, Dean can’t fall asleep. More than that: he can’t fall asleep because he can’t stop thinking about it. Them. Whatever.

Hunter husbands.

It goes against everything Dean has been taught to believe.

Because men are strong, and manly, and they don’t cook like a housewife or like Taylor Swift like some teenybopper and they don’t love other men. Like brothers, yeah. And sure, when you’re holed up in the trenches and there’s nothing but another burly dude to keep you warm at night, it’s cool to help each other out. But it’s not gay, and it’s not love.

Except when it is.

Except when a windblown holy tax accountant fucking waltzes into your life and stays until he’s an acquaintance and then a friend and then a brother and then somehow more than that, still family but also something else. Except when hard, world-wearied hunters like cooking and cleaning and decorating their rooms and listening to TayTay.

So, really, except nothing.

And Dean hadn’t been spying, seriously he hadn’t, but when he’d gone back to check on Cesar and Jess he’d seen them; Jesse’s face had been buried into Cesar’s neck, his arms wrapped tightly around his husband while the latter murmured what was presumably sweetness and solidarity into his skin. Dean’s heart had ached, the feeling only doubling in intensity when Jess had leaned back only to nudge forward.

It was a little different, seeing two big guys kissing so innocently—that kind of thing never happened in small, bumfuck-nowhere towns and in porn—but it was nice. It was really nice, actually, that they were so clearly in love. Still. After all the fighting and killing and darkness that follows hunting around like a plague.

Dean had been jealous; not full out green-eyed monstering, but… enough to feel it.

Sighing, the hunter all but throws himself to the other end of his mattress and tries to relax. He wishes things had been different, that he’d had the balls to man-the-fuck-up and ask for what he wants instead of being stupidly jealous of two genuinely nice guys who’ll probably own a nice ranch with a quaint house and fuckin’ make love five times a day just because they can.

Dean squeezes his eyes shut and grits his teeth. God help him, he wants that. He wants the house and the yard a-and Cas in his bed every night. He wants to make him breakfast, and take showers together, and kiss until their lips are numb, and fuck Dean has never had sex with someone he’s been this in love with (though Cassie came pretty close), but he wants to know what that feels like. And he wants to know what it’ll be like to never sleep next to someone else ever again.

“Cas?” Dean croaks, face half mashed in his pillow as his eyes stay shut. He knows he’s talking to nothing. “I’m gonna find you, okay? And when I do I’m gonna save you, and I’ll make sure you never feel like you need to do stupid shit like this ever again, okay? I’m gonna hug you, a-and, maybe, if you’re okay with it, I’ll kiss you… I’ll kiss the motherfucking hell outta you, Castiel.” Exhaling a shaky breath, Dean nods to himself. “Good,” he mumbles. “S’long as you know.”

He finally manages to drift off to sleep.

Castiel, meanwhile, holds the TV screen close to his face and strokes the sleeping figure on the screen. His mind swims with words he desperately wants to believe: gonna find you… hug you… never feel like you need to do stupid shit like this ever again… kiss you… Castiel…

Forehead pressed to the glass of the screen, Cas gives a little nod of his own. “Okay, Dean,” he murmurs to the spectre.



Arya Stark Appreciation Week — Day 2 Favourite Season ↳  

Season 2 – “My name’s not Arry. It’s Arya. Of House Stark.”