love and internal organs

jalapeno--business  asked:

So whenever I read trc, I'm always overwhelmed by this almost pathological desire to experience the same feelings of wonder and beauty and magic that you describe in the series. Yes, I understand that there is no sentient, magical forest to discover, and no sleeping king that I can search for, but I still have this urge to have similar feelings and experiences in my life. So how do you experience a similar kind of magic and wonder that you describe in your books, in everyday life?

Dear jalapeno–business,

Are you listening closely?

As an author, I travel a lot. At one point, I was on the road one day out of every three — planes, hotels, rental cars. There’s a rhythm to it, like running up a very long flight of stairs. You figure out how many stairs you can take in a jump, and how to breathe-in-breathe-out to keep from wasting your lungs, and you learn how to tell when you have to stop to rest your knees or you just won’t make it to the top. 

The airports and the planes and the people can all start to seem the same after awhile, if you’re looking at them wrong. If you let them. Anything in life can sound ordinary if that’s all you’re listening for.

Back in 2014, I was in a Texas airport. The night had that glittering senseless jitter to it that happens when you’re tired but going home, finally going home. I was early for my flight and sitting several gates away from my real gate, listening to music. A young man sat down two seats away. Ordinarily, tired and occupied with the peculiar every-day magic of the music in my headphones, I wouldn’t have noticed him, but a moment later, a phone rang. He asked if it was mine; it wasn’t. Someone had forgotten it on the seat between us. 

We both looked at it.

It rang again for someone who didn’t know to pick up, and then he took it away to one of the United desks for them to give it to someone who would listen. He didn’t return.

Two hours later, I went to my real gate to board. Full flight. Everyone was checking and double-checking their seat assignments as they defended their right to aisles and windows. When my seatmate settled himself next to me, I looked up, and it was the guy from the waiting area. He had a tilt to his chin that telegraphed that he thought he was hot shit and a grin that said he recognized me. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

We laughed ruefully and applied our headphones — we both knew the routine of polite air travel. But the agreeable tingle of the coincidence still ate at me, and I could tell it ate at him, too, because after a few moments, he offered me a truffle from his bag. I told him I couldn’t take it because of my allergies, but the headphones came off. We started to talk.

And he was a big talker. He was cocky. A surgical resident. He told me how he loved the hell out of taking internal organs out of people. He described how he listened to sixty-minute epic soundtracks in his ear buds while he removed appendixes and gallbladders, kidneys and stones. He told me of watching Dateline by himself at the end of seventy and eighty hour work weeks, and he told me about his Hyundai, which I made fun of. Confidentially, he whispered to me about a surgeon he knew who had the goal of removing every gallbladder in Texas. Two hours into the flight, the conversation tilted toward spirituality. He’s hot shit, he confessed, and works hard, but he sometimes wonders if he’s allowed to want to be successful, or if that makes him a bad person. Because he’s working a lot of hours in a week, and he’s tired, but he’s pretty sure that he’s hot shit, but maybe that’s not allowed.

I was watching him fumble his fingers over each other. He was scratching a hole in his own palm.

And all at once there was a phone in my head, and it was ringing just for me. 

“One of your parents has obsessive-compulsive disorder,” I told him. “Maybe both.”

The shimmering grin slipped. “How did you know? How could you know that?” 

I asked him if he was getting treatment for it.

He said, “No, no, I’m over it. How could you know that?”

Because in a foggy way, that phone was still ringing between us, and now, I recognized the number.

I said, “Don’t kill yourself.”

He replied, “No way,” and then he started to cry. 

The shit-eating grin had vanished. He told me how he’d made up his mind that he didn’t want to make it to 35. He’d researched all the ways to make sure he didn’t. Over the next hour, I told him about my OCD, and how I thought his uncertainty over wanting to be successful but also wanting to be humble was a function of his OCD’s spiritual obsession. That he wasn’t over OCD, that you never were, but that his agony didn’t have to be a real thing. He could be both humble and successful. It wasn’t against the rules of goodness to be proud of what you’d done, as long as you were doing things for the right reasons. I told him how once I bought a race car, but I’d given it away to someone who could use the money, because I realized I was only racing to look sexy in a car, and not because it was really making me happy. 

I told him he didn’t have to worry about looking sexy in a Hyundai, though, and he replied that he would look sexy in anything, and then he cried a little more. 

Everyone else in the plane was asleep, but we were wide awake.

When we got off the plane in Virginia, the surgical resident gave me an awkward side-hug, and he wiped his face. Then he dug in his bag for the wrapper from his truffle. As the other travelers shuffled past us sleepily, he pressed it into my hand. He didn’t want to give me his name, he said, but he wanted something for me to remember so that when we ran into each other again in 15 years, I’d know who he was.

After we’d parted ways, I turned my phone off airplane mode, and a text came in that had been sent while I was in the air. It was from the person I’d given the race car to. I hadn’t heard from him in nearly six months. The text said only: thank u maggie i have such a hppy life bc of u

Magic.

You have to be listening closely. Phones are ringing all over the world, and sometimes they look like magical forests, and sometimes they look like race cars, and sometimes they look like surgical residents.

urs,

Stiefvater

anonymous asked:

I saw rabidfairyshakestinyfist's ask and I was thinking, couldn't Lance had shards of balmera crystal embedded in his back after the explosion? So maybe he draws power from those, maybe they even grow the more he ovedoes it which could cause problems with the shards affecting his spine and/or internal organs.

YOLY SHIT THAT’S KINDA FREAKY I love it

what if he got like tattoos made of crushed crystal or smth over his scars that would be lit

Huntress- Part 13: Trust

Sam x Daughter!Reader, takes place in S12 E13 so warning: SPOILERS

Part one
Part two
Part three
Part four
Part five

Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Ten
Part Eleven
Part Twelve

Your feet padded quietly on the floorboards of the Bunker as you neared the voices. Dad had his back to you, typing away on his laptop, Uncle Dean was leaning over him, staring at whatever was on the screen. 

You had a cup of tea in hands as you wandered up behind them.

“Found a case?” You asked, making Uncle Dean jump. 
“The hell did you come from?” He looked at you with a frown.
“Europe.”You mumbled, reading the screen.

Dad chuckled before saying “Yeah, a Museum not too far away. Someone had their tongue ripped out…”
“Ouch.” You grimaced.
“…Yeah, but that didn’t kill them.” 
You tilted your head questioningly.
“Having their internal organs crushed did.”

“Lovely.”

“Sure is.” Uncle Dean huffed, his eyes squinting as he read over the article. You took a sip, the warmth of the mug spreading through to the palms of your hands.

“I take it you’re coming, Kid.” Uncle Dean looked at you expectantly. You nodded, grabbing a hair-tie from your wrist and tying your hair up into a bunche. 

Dad sighed, but didn’t say anything. He knew you’d probably end up finding a way, it was safer if you all stayed together.

“I’ll call Mom,” Uncle Dean broke the slight tension before it grew to too much “See if she wants to help out.”

“Okay.” Dad nodded, closing his laptop slightly and adjusting himself so he was facing you.
“Sleep well?” He asked in such a way you felt obliged to answer truthfully.
“Kinda.” You shrugged.
Dad nodded, thankful you didn’t outright lie, he could tell you trusted him more than you initially did.

“If you can’t sleep, it’s okay to tell me. I’m not going to be angry at you.”

“I know…thanks.” You didn’t want to offend him, but there was really nothing he could have done to help.

“Offering a tight smile, he looked up when Uncle Dean re-entered the room. “Okay, looks like it’s just gonna be the three of us,” He bitterly declared. Before you could question why he added: “Let’s go.”


You enjoyed car journeys. There was so much more land in America so the roads weren’t too busy and it gave you lots of time to listen to music or play dumb games. It was the simple things, but they made a difference.

You took out an earphone whenever they seemed to be talking about anything interesting.
“Wait, you said Mom was…”too tired” right?” Dad asked his brother, making sure he had his facts straight.
“Yep” Uncle Dean snapped. He was obviously not buying the “tired” excuse. To be fair, it was an excuse you’d often find yourself losing.

“What?” Dad frowned.
“I don’t know..I just feel like something’s going on and she doesn’t wanna talk about it.” Uncle Dean admitted his suspicions.
“She’s back into Hunting, she just needs time. We can’t expect her to be perfectly okay.”
“Yeah. I guess…”

You sighed, watching them go back and forth. Of course Mary had every right to hunt on her own, to have any secrets she wants to keep, to be away from her family and still love them. But Uncle Dean appeared to have different ideas, he was family driven and couldn’t get his head around the fact that she didn’t want to be with them all of the time.

From what Mary had told you, it sounded like she’d spent the earlier years of her life running from the Hunting life, to be dragged back in…it couldn’t have been easy.

You wouldn’t be able to cope if Dad hadn’t wanted you to stay, if you’d have to go back to live in The Chapter House…


After a solid fifteen minutes of waiting in the car, you’d just about had enough of not being able to know what’s going on. No, you couldn’t pretend to be an FBI agent, but you didn’t have to.

Instead of waiting for Dad and Uncle Dean to arrive back from the Museum, you got out of the car and marched in. You held your head high and walked straight past a few people, acting like you were meant to be there.
No one questioned you or stopped you from walking in. When you spotted the “FBI” you strode over and leaned over Uncle Dean’s shoulder: “Sup.”

He jumped, staring at you with wide eyes soon turning to a disapproved frown. You giggled, having managed to scare him for the second time that day.
“Y/N?” Dad walked over to where you were, looking confused “How did you get in here?”

“Walked through the door.” You explained, looking at the cabinets filled with antiques and relics. “Anything interesting?”
“How?”
“People don’t question you if you look like you know what you’re doing.” You shrugged, earning a small smile from the pair of them. 

“Okay I’m changing my vote to a ghost, this place is full of EMF.” Uncle Dean looked down at the small machine in his hand.
“That’s actually pretty normal for a Museum, all these antiques everywhere. there’s bound to be a few pissed of spirits.” Dad gently argued.

“Hey, check this out.” Dad pointed to the front of some sort of ship, forcing you and Uncle Dean to move closer to get a better look.
“The Star.” You read, picking up an information booklet, “Sunk in 1723…”

“Wait, I know something about something,” Uncle Dean held a finger up, making you pause “Gavin McLeod.”

You scrunched your face up “Who?”

“Crowley’s kid?!” Dad looked half impressed an half confused.

“Crowley’s got a kid?” You wonder aloud.

“Yeah, uh, long story.” Uncle Dean quickly dismissed the chance to recite it for you; you were beginning to think everything was a long story. “But, this is Gavin’s ship.”

Speaking of the King Of Hell, his caller ID appeared on Uncle Dean’s phone.
“Hey Crowley.” He sighed, putting it on loud speaker.
“I can’t believe you! You idiots let Lucifer’s lovechild live?!”
“How do you know about that?” Dad interrogated.
“I don’t owe you an explanation!”
“Oh great- that’s reassuring.” You rolled your eyes.
“I guess this is a bad time to ask you if you can ask Gavin to come over?”
“Why on Earth would I want to do that?!”
“We don’t owe you an explanation.” You echoed his excuse, making him scoff.
“Look, Crowley. When we let Gavin live in our world, possibly screwing up the rest of history and time, we didn’t hunt him down. So yeah, you do owe us something.” Uncle Dean explained, unfortunately, Crowley didn’t seem convinced.
“I can’t believe you three!” He hissed before hanging up.


“That’s a fascinating story,” Rowena smiled sickly, her Scottish accent filling the room “But you said there was something in it for me?” 
Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms and leaned back.
“We’re gonna need your help to-

“I said for me.” She sighed, collecting her things and standing up to leave. Your Dad rose from his chair, grabbing her arm and holding her in position: “Sit down.” 

She hesitated, deciding whether to do so or not.Swallowing, she sat back down. Glaring at your Dad. Her eyes fluttered back to normal as she adjusted her position, getting comfortable.

“When we discover this eye witness, we can get our valuable information and you, well, you’ll want to meet them.” Uncle Dean promised.

“Who is this eye witness?” Rowena asked, her curiosity taking over her as she waited for someone to speak.

Your Dad smirked, looking between you and his brother. 


Sandwiched between your Dad and your Uncle, the three of you watched as the coach pulled up. It was large and silver, with one of those compartments for luggage.
“Gavin!” They called as a younger man walked off of the steps. He had dark brown hair, a navy trench coat and a satchel with his belongings. He strode over to you all, his eyes falling on yours. “Gavin, this is my daughter, Y/N.”
Dad shook hands with him, gesturing to you slightly.
“Y/N,” Gavin echoed “Hello.”
“Hey.” You greeted, noting his accent was much like Rowenas.

“You’re English!” He seemed more excited about this than you’d thought he’d be.
“Sure am.” You chuckled.

“So uh….how’s my Father?” He seemed to be asking you, making you back up slightly.

“About that,” Dad cleared his throat “We may have exaggerated…a little.”
“We lied.” Uncle Dean admitted “We lied.”
“Why?”
“We need your help-”
“Help!” He called, frightening one of the travelers as they walked past. You giggled as Uncle Dean tried to usher him away, assuring him no help was actually needed.
“We wanted to ask you about this.” You got your phone out and held up a picture of the ship.
“That’s the Star!” He grinned, squinting his eyes to see “That’s my ship!”

“Yeah it should have been.” Dad nodded, looking up as a car sounded.
A taxi parked and a certain Witch got out. Gavin looked up, confused. “You look just like my father when he was young” She grinned.
He frowned.
“Gavin, this is Rowena, you’re Grandmother.”
“My Grandmother…She can’t be alive.”
“Neither can you, mate.” You huffed “Don’t question it.”


“I would have thought all the wreckage would still be at the bottom of the Atlantic!” Gavin grinned as he studied the front of his ship back in the Museum. He walked around it a few dozen times, looking it up and down in fascination.

“Here’s a folder of what they recovered, recognise anything?” You handed him the folder, hoping to speed things up a little without sounding too rude. People’s lives were at stake.

“Amazing.” He said, eagerly taking it from your hands.

You chuckled, rolling your eyes at him and leaning on the table behind.

“Nope…Nope…Nope” He flicked through the pages, glancing at the photos. You shared a look with your Dad, making him smirk.

“My God,” Gavin placed the folder on the table open on the page “That’s the locket.”
“The locket?” Dad questioned.

You leaned in, examining the picture and scanning the paragraph of information for anything useful or interesting.
“It’s the locket I bought…for my Fiona”
“Darlin’, you had a we girlfriend!” Rowena squealed.
“Fiona Dunken.” He said proudly.

“Hey.” Uncle Dean called you over to where he and your Dad were stood. You backed up to where they were, looking up expectantly.
“It’s missing.” He said, pointing at a stand.
“Maybe the ghost of this Fiona took it.” Dad suggested.

“My Fiona’s a ghost?!” Gavin butted in, looking insulted anyone would suggest such a thing.
“She’s vengeful, she wants clarity…She’s also very dangerous.” You sighed, knowing full well he wouldn’t want to hear this. His eyes said it all, they were shocked and barely managing to process the information you were telling him.


You stood behind your Dad and Uncle as they stormed in, shotguns armed with salt-bullets. Dad took a shot at the ghost-who must have been Fiona- she disintegrated through smoke. There was no doubt she’d be back soon.
 As she did so, you had to physically hold Gavin back so he didn’t run in to see if it truly was her. He struggled in your grip, making you press your thumb into one of the pressure points along the arm. He stopped struggling “Ow!”
“Don’t move then!” You hissed, letting him go since the ghost was gone.
Rowena watched with disapproval “Hush!”.

Holding his arm, he pouted “Okay…now what?”

“We need you to speak with her. We need to be sure it is her.” Dad explained. He lowered his gun fully and offered Gavin an encouraging smile.
“How?”

“Oh restless spirit, make thy presence known to me…”

You waited on the other side of the door with Rowena, Uncle Dean and Dad. The ghost would be more likely to show if he was on his own. However, you had fully loaded firearms on the table to your right in case things got messy.

“…Fiona…’tis I: Gavin…”

You all waited in silence, straining to hear for cries of help. You had to prepare for the worst case scenario- just in case. As they spoke their voices became more and more louder and it appeared to be becoming an argument more than a conversation.
You noticed your Dad looking over to the shotguns, as if contemplating reaching for one. He licked his lips in thought before looking away. The room fell silent and you looked up at Dad.

He opened the door slowly, Uncle Dean holding a weapon just in case.

The three of you peered in to see Gavin stood in the middle of the room, watching an empty space with sorry eyes which was probably where Fiona had stood.

“Was it her?” Rowena asked, moving towards where he stood.
“Aye, it was Fiona.” He nodded slowly, his face hardened and he added “But not my Fiona.”

“So…we’re all agreed she needs to be stopped?” Dad spoke. Every nodded in response. “How? We can’t burn her bones if she’s at the bottom of the ocean?” You weren’t trying to be a pessimist, but you hadn’t any other ideas.
“Well,” Uncle Dean cleared his throat, eyeing Gavin “There might be a way to fix everything.”
“No.” Rowena snapped, meanwhile you were let to catch on. “We’re not sending him to his death. That’s not a solution.”
“Actually, I was thinking the same thing. If I go back in time and board the ship, time would go as it was supposed to.” Gavin agreed.

“You can send someone back in time?” You asked, intrigued,
“Aye, that’s how I arrived in the twenty first century. It’s a long story.” Gavin nodded.
“Isn’t everything…” You mumbled.

“Never gonna happen.” A certain King Of Hell decided to show his face. “Just because your family’s a mess doesn’t mean you get to mess with mine!” He shouted at the three of you. You frowned at the word “mess”.
“Let him go Fergus!” Rowena hissed.
“If you want to go so badly then why did you call me?!” Crowley ignored his Mother.
“You called him?” Uncle Dean said.
“Yes…I called you,” Gavin hesitated “I called you to say goodbye.”
Crowley stiffened and his head rose with realisation. 

Standing up to leave, Crowley reached out to stop his son. However Rowena held up her hand and chanted a sharp spell, making Crowley freeze. “…Mother…” He hummed, raising an eyebrow at her.

You watched with anticipation, unsure as to whether you could really have a valuable opinion on someone else’s situation. 
Gavin waled past, turning round to his Dad and saying “I’m sorry, Father…”


You watched as Dad prepared the last of the spell. Standing next to Uncle Dean, Gavin wondered over to join you both and sighed. “You ready?” You asked, glancing at his pale face.

He swallowed. “Yes.”

Dad held a blade up to his palm and sliced through, Gavin winced but didn’t say anything as he squeezed his blood into the bowl of ingredients.
“Are you sure this’ll work?” He asked.
“We’ve never actually done it before,” Uncle Dean admitted “But other family members have.”
You added “Plus Rowena tweaked the spell.”

“Hey, uh, Gavin,” Dad gently caught his attention “You’re a good guy. Thank you.”

Gavin nodded ad moved so he was stood in front of the three of you. He nodded “Hopefully, this is all for the best.” 

As Dad read the spell Fiona appeared at his side, her body translucent with a murky yellow tinge. The pair of them turned to face each other, both smiling and hands reaching for each others. Their bodies began to change so they both had a middle-ground between being see through and tangible. Then, as softly as she had appeared, they were whisked away back in time. 

You kept your eyes on the empty space. Gavin was nice. It was hard to believe Crowley was his father, although, something told you the King Of Hell had more of a heart than he let on.


Your phone buzzed in your pocket, making you roll off of your bed to get into a position where you could answer it. You looked down at the caller ID and scowled. It was him again.
Why couldn’t that bastard just leave you alone?!
You’d had it.

“What?” You snapped, finally answering.

“Y/N?”

“Duh!”

“Finally, why are you suddenly ignoring me?” He questioned.

“Why are you always calling me?” You were trying to keep your volume to a minimum. At this point, you didn’t want your Dad getting involved.

“Look, I get that you belong with your…Dad.” He had a hard time getting the word out “But you can still work with us. The idea was that you got us into the Winchester’s good books.”

“I never agreed to the bleeding idea in the first place!” You protested.

Sam Winchester stood outside your bedroom door, leaning against the wall and straining to hear. He listened curiously.

“Y/N, you trust us don’t you?” The man asked.
You didn’t answer.
“You trust me don’t you?” He altered the question a little in hopes for a response.
“I don’t know anymore…”
“Who do you trust?” He asked in such a way you could almost hear the cogs whirring in his brain as he calculated a plan to re-earn your trust.
“I trusted Max…” You whispered.
“I know you did.”
“Your Dad?” He suggested.
My Dad?” You echoed, realising you didn’t know if you did or not. Sam lifted his head at the mention of himself. “I think I trust him…but I trusted you and look where that got me.”
“Y/N, I didn’t want to do that to you either. I’ve changed. Your Mum changed me.”
“My Mum’s dead.” You retorted “Change yourself.” 


As you approach your Dad and Uncle, they seemed to be talking about the case and how Cas still hasn’t found out much on Kelly. You silently agree before sitting down next to your Dad. 
He shoots you a frown, but doesn’t question what you’d been doing. “You okay?” He asked, perhaps hoping you’d explain.
“Mmmhmm.” You smiled.

He could have wanted to push you to say more, but Mary walking down the steps turned all attention away from you. 
“Mom!”
“Hey!”
“It’s been a while,” Uncle Dean expresses “A long long long while.” You kicked your Uncle’s shin from under the table, making him flinch “Ow!”
You stuck your tongue out at him, making Mary roll her eyes.

“I brought beers and burgers.” She declared. Mary placed the bags down on the table, smiling at you. You smiled back, thinking she had more to say.
“Forgiven.” Uncle Dean grinned, ripping open the case of beers.

“So, uh, what’ve you been up to?” Dad asked her, leaning back in his chair.

“Oh you know, chasing vampires, shooting werewolves, melting rugaru brains.”
Your head shot up at the mention and you squinted your eyes at her suspiciously. “What?” Uncle Dean questioned her.

She looked down and suddenly the happy family atmosphere was gone.

Realisation hit you: “You’ve been working with them…haven’t you?” She directy looked at you, guilty eyes and a tired stance. “There’s no easy way to say it…”

“I just did.” You snapped “You’re welcome.”

“Y/N…”

“Mom…” Dad sighed “We have a history with them.”

“I know, Sam. But what they’re doing, it’s incredible. We’ve saved so many lives-”

We? So you’re a we now?” Uncle Dean interrogated. The betrayal in his voice was harsh and thick. 

You watched as they went back and forth. You knew the most about The British Men Of Letters, they weren’t necessarily bad people… It was complicated and you thought you’d finally gotten out.
Truth was, you did miss parts of it. The Hunting they’d prepared you for was certainly easier and more effective. They’d practically wiped out every Supernatural species in the UK. 
It wasn’t all bad…you just wished they hadn’t kept your Dad from you for so long. And what they did to Mum… you couldn’t just forgive them for that.

“Don’t give me the face.” Mary folded her arms across her chest at her eldest.
“What face?”
The face.”
“There is no face.”
“That face!” She pointed at your Uncle, her voice loud.

“Mom…we don’t trust the Brits.” Your Dad trailed off when he spoke, noticing you becoming more and more awkward between the three of them.

“So where does that leave us?” Uncle Dean stood tall.

“Same as always. Family. Please, just hear me out.”


Part Fourteen- Pick A Side

Masterlist

I do not won these gifs

A/N: I’ve kinda worked my butt off all day to get this finished *phew*. Time to start planning for the next part I guess \_(-_-)_/

(Tag list after cut)

Keep reading

This is a mushroom jelly.

It has one normal ear and one mushroom ear. It smiles and has unusual eyes. It’s made of fungus, gelatin, and potato purée. It has no nose, and it jumps. Its normal ear hears normal things. Its mushroom ear hears mushroom things. It lives in the forest. It has three friends and two enemies. It can’t decide where to go for dinner. It took a bath once and drowned. It has no feet. It has no hands. It has no arms, and it has no legs. It rolls very fast and bounces very high. It launches into space sometimes and suffocates. It loves hugs, but it can’t reciprocate. It has no internal organs.

That is all that is currently known about the mushroom jelly.

Hello,” Sherlock slurs up to him with the most agonizingly exquisite smile, his voice lazy and beautifully thick as he miraculously achieves what the doctor has asked, “You were correct, John, Christmas has come early. It’s perfect—no. It’s not merely perfect, it’s abhorrently brilliant. I have a part of you. Couldn’t have asked for anything better. Best one yet. I love this holiday.”

“You,” John says with a dismaying twist of his own lips as he carefully brushes his fingertips against the inside of Sherlock’s white wrist, as he almost had done so many times before, “are higher than bloody a kite right now.”

“You love me.”

“Right, yes, I wouldn’t really—I just. You remember, brilliant. Good deduction, that. Saves us a bit of an awkward conversation later, I suppose.”

“You love me and I have an internal organ of yours.” Sherlock says up to him as if it’s the most ground breaking deduction of his life, his eyes practically ablaze with very heavy pain killers, “It’s Christmas. It’s thirty four Christmases worth of gifts. I asked for a kidney, and I received your own. Oh, Father Christmas, you are brilliant, I never doubted your abilities, really, it was all just an act.

anonymous asked:

Okay, but in that fetus exo you reblogged last night, are we just going to ignore how kyungsoo is literally leaning hus entire weight against chanyeol's front????

Have I told you that I love you anonnie?

YASSSSS GHSADFASJHGDFAJSHGDFAJSHG

ALL MY INTERNAL ORGANS SCREAMED WHEN I SAW THAT

Some lovers were never lovers, they were only nicotine laced toxic. A former smoker may long for the feeling of a cigarette between his lips every now and then. Does this mean he is in love with cigarettes? No. This is not love. There’s a difference between love and unhealthy addictions. Love does not kill you. Love does not darken the color of your internal organs. Love does not make it hard to breathe.

Remember, this when you crave to hear the voice of someone who once suffocated your lively heart; there is a difference between love and nicotine.

—  Hannah Sofia Ghani, Love & Nicotine
Today’s subject: Hisau Maiya [Person]

Source: Fate/Zero material (2008-08-08), p.102

Fate/Zero Dictionary

Emiya Kiritsugu’s assistant. Also his lover, in a certain sense of the word.

Due to growing up utterly deprived of humanity, Maiya lacks a strong sense of self, and has given her entire being to Emiya Kiritsugu. Asking her if she loves him would be the same as asking the internal organs if they love the brain – completely meaningless.

And, regardless of what others might say, for Kiritsugu sacrificing his wife to complete the Holy Grail was a betrayal of their love. However, it was a betrayal which he absolutely must not hesitate to perform. His sexual relationship with Maiya, then, was simply a rehearsal for this betrayal – a form of masochism to calm his nerves.

This is already pretty much the worst reason for having an affair, but the fact that Maiya valued it makes it an endless vicious cycle. Shirou, whatever you do, never ask your old man for advice on women…

Though her skill at sorcery is only a little better than Kara no Kyoukai’s Azaka, she is a professional assassin capable of using any tool to kill no matter how crude it may be. So in that sense, she is a user of “deadly sorcery”.

If push came to shove, she would be able to kill somebody with nothing more than a simple wooden skewer from a yakitori restaurant.

By the way, this is just a digression but Maiya has an absolutely devastating sweet tooth. There’s actually an urban legend passed around among store clerks about a mysterious woman who would always show up at cake buffets all alone and start gulping down desserts one after the other with a sour look on her face. Of course, Maiya herself would die of shame if anybody ever found out about this.

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NEW VIDEO: “What REALLY Happens on TOUR - huge announcement y’all! I’m taking my tour INTERNATIONAL! See if I’m coming to your country HERE. Rebog this post if you want me to check out your blog - I’m following a bunch of people who do!

#BestYearEver: Travel More

7 handy packing advice tips, plus must-have travel essentials for her and him

This year, make less talking and more doing your number one priority, and plan that dream trip you’ve always wanted to take. If there’s one piece of advice we’ve heard over and over again, it’s travel as much as you can. Life’s short, so live it to the fullest! Expand your mind, experience different food and cultures, and don’t worry about the money. Not all trips have to be elaborate and expensive. Budget trips can be just as fun, and possibly even a bit more enlightening. So, start researching tickets today and make traveling one of 2015’s top to-dos.

Packing 101

Once you’ve booked your tickets, come back here for packing advice. From making sure you aren’t bringing too much stuff to the best way to save space in your suitcase, see seven tips that will make your life easier. 

1. Pack light. We start off with the most important tip - do not overpack. You’re bag will be too heavy and you can always buy more when you get to your travel destination. 

2. Pack basics. When you’re packing your bags, make sure you take pieces that are versatile so that you can mix and match. Leave your bold pieces at home.

3. Roll your clothes. To save some space in your bag, roll up your clothes. Lay them on the ground, fold in the corners and roll up from the bottom. 

4. Carryons are key. Try to fit all your things into carryon luggage. That way your bag will never get lost or go missing. 

5. Invest in noise canceling headphones. One of the best ways to actual get some rest on the plane is by wearing a pair of these headphones. Your world will change, for the better.

6. Dress comfortable. Nothing’s worse than having a pair of stiff jeans to wear while you’re traveling. Wear comfy clothing that’s easy to move in.  

7. Have fun! Be flexible when you travel. Not everything will go as planned, but that’s ok. The more carefree you are, the more fun you will have. 

Shop Travel Essentials

Now that you’re going to be traveling more, you’re going to need some help packing your bags. Update your gear and shop the best travel essentials below.

Top 10 Travel Essentials for Her

Super Leger International Carry On Luggage

One Love Organics Travel Kit

Beats by Dr. Dre Headphones, Beats Mixr On-Ear Headphones

Precious Metals Wallet

ASOS V-Neck Sweater With Travelling Rib

Avenue Pant

Vince Bogart Python-Print Slip-On, Black/White

Go Clean Beach Set

ASOS Novelty Makeup Bag & Eye Mask Set

Diptyque Eau Rose Hand Lotion

Want to search for more travel essentials for her? Head to our search bar here to shop over 150 stores, all in one place.

Top 10 Travel Essentials for Him

FPM - FABBRICAPELLETTERIEMILANO Wheeled luggage

Belting Passport Cover, Personalized

Beats by Dr. Dre Studio 2.0 Over-Ear Headphones

The Art of Shaving Travel Kit & Razor -Sandalwood

Ginger Flight Therapy

F1 4-in-1 Adapter

Down Sweater Vest

USB Travel Adaptor

Hollister Fleece Joggers

Nike Men’s Zoom Speed TR 2 Training Sneakers from Finish Line

Want to search for more travel essentials for him? Head to our search bar here to shop over 150 stores, all in one place.

Here's my two cents, KCI, but I'm keeping the other 48

Well, I am officially no longer a member of Key Club International, and I’m leaving with a very poor taste in my mouth. Over a massive fifty cents too.

For those who DON’T know, as of July 5, 2014, every Key Clubber now has to pay AT LEAST fifty more cents to join this organization, probably more to be completely honest. To many, it’s not a big deal (very debatable); fifty cents can’t even buy you coffee or boba, but it’s International’s reasoning for pushing the amendment in the first place that’s embarrassing.

Let me get this straight, I still love Key Club. I may be burnt out, and I may not want to do work anymore, but this last ICON just makes me feel gross about where this organization is going. $40k on a two minute video that could have been produced by a high schooler, $60k on a godawful Key Club app, and thousands more on who even knows what have dropped us tens of thousands of dollars in debt, and what does International do to fix this problem? Make Key Club members across the world pay for their mistakes.

What kind of message are we trying to send if our organization isn’t even fiscally responsible enough to keep ourselves from dropping $170k in debt? Are we to follow the branch of Key Club that can barely run themselves administratively? Are we to learn from their example and make sure we make others pay for our mistakes? Are we to be honest and caring servant leaders when those we’re SUPPOSED to look up to lack even the most basic transparency so that WE can understand what will affect us in this organization?

This is an embarrassment to ALL of us as Key Club members AND as a branch of the Kiwanis Family. Whether or not this amendment was truly necessary is no longer even the question. The question is whether or not the example that the “leaders” of this organization are setting is one that we should all follow to be model Key Clubbers.

Here’s to you, Key Club International. I’ve given you all my 2 cents, but until this mess is made up for, neither I nor many of the other individuals that are the ones truly affected by this amendment are willing to give you the other 48. Cheers, and I truly hope that someone fixes this, for our sakes and the sake of the organization we all love.

*EDIT*

To those who complained about CNH fighting the amendment as well, I do hope you realize that WE are doing our duty to represent the members that could not attend this convention. Yes, I am sure that you are dying to go buy your overpriced dinners. There were many of us that would have rather been eating as well. Although we may be obnoxious and loud and spirited, we know our duty as leaders in this organization. Do you?

things girls do that i love:

  • convert oxygen into carbon dioxide using their internal organs alone
  • possess the FOXP2 gene rendering them capable of communicative speech
  • omnivorous mastication via specialized dentition
  • possess skull and neck structures passed down through thousands of years of evolution specifically to help enable upright locomotion 
  • rarely have an occipital bun
Salads for Every Occasion D-6: Raspberry Ring With Creamy Fruit

This is pretty weird.  The ring is a combination of raspberry jello and raspberry sherbet–that’s how you get the lovely internal organ look and feel.

The gunk in the center is sour cream with pineapple, canned mandarin oranges, canned pineapple, coconut, and miniature marshmallows.

The dead leaves are supposedly mint.

This just has way too much going on to be good.