minor sounds

If something doesn’t apply to you, then you have no right to speak on behalf of a whole group that is affected by it. When women, the LGBTQ+ community, the mentally/physically disabled, Muslims, immigrants, POCs, etc. say that they are offended or that they are hurt or being disrespected or being oppressed or that they are fearing for their lives, fucking LISTEN TO THEM. Believe me, they know a hell of a lot more about their oppressions than you do.

So stop telling minorities that there’s nothing to fear or that if we just do everything the “right” way we’ll be fine. Not everything is so black and white and to act like it is is just showing that you are coming from a position of privilege that, unfortunately, not everybody has.

Stop telling minorities how to feel about what is going on around them and what is happening to them. They shouldn’t have to feel these horrible things- nobody should- but they are. The least you can do is realize that their feelings are valid and try to help them.

Stop telling minorities, “Oh, well, I’m an [insert minority group here] and [blah blah blah] doesn’t hurt/offend/scare me.” Because yeah, it’s great that you are in a position of privilege/power where you aren’t being affected by these things, but use that position to help others and just acknowledge the fact that not everybody has the same luxuries that you do.

Just because you can’t see or understand the magnitude of what is going on, it doesn’t mean that it isn’t happening. It just means that it isn’t happening to you. (at least not to the same extent as other people are)

Instead of telling minorities how to feel, listen to us. Open up your eyes. Don’t stay ignorant. Try to understand the viewpoint of different minorities and realize that although you will never truly be able to, you will have at least a tiny bit more of an understanding- you will gain some sort of compassion by doing so. Then find a way (or ways) to join in the fight for justice and equality.

drarry  fic rec - me...by me

alright that’s it I don’t care anymore. i’m reccing (and rating) my own damn drarry fics. i don’t care.

How to Apologise To Harry Potter in 10 Days

18k, Post Hogwarts, Auror!Potter, Draco’s POV, fluff, minor angst
exactly as it sounds. 9 days of Draco being a coward and 1 day of him finally apologising…amongst other things. 10/10 total rip off of that Gwyneth Paltrow movie

I Hex You, You Hex me
4k, Eighth Year, Hogwarts, Harry’s POV, fluff, minor angst
my first ever drarry story. just an excuse to experience that cringe inducing but addictive second hand embarrassment through Harry when his feelings become obvious. 8/10 at me using masturbation as a plot device

9 Times Harry Potter Rescued Draco Malfoy
1k, Eight Year Hogwarts, fluff
me being lazy and basically just writing a screenplay and pretending I did it on purpose for the art. i’m not doing a summary for you – just read the title. 9/10 I hate writing descriptions

Hot Tea
13k, Post Hogwarts, Contrived “Date”, Harry’s POV, Malfoy snark alert, fluff, minor angst
me thinking I’m clever because the title is a metaphor for Draco Malfoy. I’m not going to explain it to you. Harry sort of not really takes Draco on a date and Draco sort of very much enjoys it. this is my best drarry because of the snark factor. 17/10 would willingly drown in Malfoy snark

Dangerously Boiling Hot Explicit Tea
5k, Hot Tea sequel, Harry’s POV, just smut really, all the dirty talk
a venture into smut that clearly demonstrates how much I enjoy talking about sex, but how little I like actually following through. still explicit though. 153/10 could jerk off to

The Softer Side of Draco Malfoy
WIP, Eighth Year Hogwarts, Harry’s POV, mystery, fluff, minor angst
Harry spills a potion on Draco. Draco starts acting weird. it’s a mystery. I can’t say anymore. sorry. what do you think a mystery is anyway? 14/10 but only if we get to see the harder side of Draco Malfoy too

How to Kiss Draco Malfoy in 10 Days
WIP, Sequel to How to Apologise, Harry’s POV, fluff
everyone knows sequels are where the money is at, or in this case, the kudos. at least I hope. i’ll get back to you on that. Harry is pining for Draco…good thing he keeps turning up at the office. 12/10 easier to write when you’re recycling a story

and that’s all my drarry. please come again. (not sexual)

V3 cast as Traitors

this hurts me to write because I remember the second game traitor :((

IMPORTANT!:  I wrote this as if the reader((y/n))was part of the killing game, and may or may not the the s/o. It’s up to the reader 

this is way too long , so for the anon who asked, imagine is under the cut

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

what happened angel? :(

Do you ever anticipate a well deserved iced drink on a hot day or a big heaping piece of chocolate cake that’s waiting in the fridge for you when you’re in class? And when you’re having a bad day and you finally get that drink or pice of cake and you accidentally drop it and spill it all over the counter or the last slice of cake was already eaten? Well basically that. Sounds ridiculous but i was really looking forward to this drink and I don’t remember how but I spilled it all over the counter, under the keurig and microwave, all over the floor (mind you that we have a carpeted kitchen), and it was the last drop from the large container so there was literally none left to pour more..

anonymous asked:

care to explain why you ship ava, a 15 year old, with odin, an 18 year old? :/ like literally why are you shipping adults with minors

Ah yes, just as Ava’s Demon is soon to return so will this. I think I’ve already participated in issues like this before and you’re 150% probably trolling, but heeeeeeerrrreeee we goooooo,

  • If Flaming Arrow/AvaOdin or frankly any element of a fictional universe upsets you; then I respect that. There are plenty of elements of fiction out there that really upset me so I avoid it like the plague and create safe spaces online (there are not enough safe places in the real world, why subject myself to something unnecessarily distressing on a website where I come to relax and hang out with friends ?) If Ava/Odin reminds you of something personal or triggers bad memories then I have empathy for you and can understand completely where you are coming from. Please though, do not force your interpenetration of canon on to other people 
  •  Odin is still a teenager. You framing Odin like an ‘adult’ and Ava like a ‘minor’ sounds like you are making Odin out to be a 24 year old man and Ava a fifteen year old highschooler and that gives me the heebie jeebies. The canon age gap between them is three years. The teen romance genre of this category is very common and I’ve grown up around it in anime, books and plenty of television and movies. I can list a bunch off the top of my head. I hate to tell you this, but eighteen year olds and fifteen year olds dating isn’t as uncommon as you may believe. 
  • Ava’s Demon’s timeline is unclear. I doubt Ava is gonna defeat TiTAN in a year or less. The idea that Ava and Odin are going to work together and grow older together as they fight TiTAN is pretty likely. 
  • The comic literally gives off a bunch of foreshadowing for the two of them and both of them share chemistry, if romance isn’t going to happen then I’m sure an awesome friendship will. 
  • Ava’s Demon is heavily removed from the real world. Fiction is crucial to culture and holds a firm place in our world as media we consume, but not all bodies of fiction are equal in where they stand. Earth doesn’t even exist in Ava’s Demon, powerful warriors are reincarnated in angsty teens, the universe has been taken over by space furries, Wrathia is implied to have laid a goddamn egg and at one point  “Smells Like Teen Spirit” by Nirvana was in someway/shape/form on every canon character’s official playlist


I’m done.

Stir Crazy

Anon: Please can you write a fanfic about an overprotective Castiel or Gabriel , they are protecting Dean and Sam’s little sister the universal prophet

Okay, this is heavily influenced by the facts that 1) I was watching Moana clips last night and 2) I live where it’s very cold and I don’t like cold that much. So, to the Nonnie who asked, I hope that this works for you! Like always, feel free to send me any suggestions, tagging requests, and whatnot.

Summary: Reader, the Winchester’s sister, is a prophetess who is still learning from the angels charged with protecting her: Castiel and Gabriel. She is going absolutely mad from cabin fever.

Warnings: Fluff (NOTE: I tried to make the relationship between the reader and Gabriel platonic, not romantic.)

Tags: @winchesters-favorite-girl @the-third-winchester-warrior @jensen-jarpad @sister-winchester-imagines

An ancient television set in the corner of the room flickers to life as you mess around with the knobs. For the three-billionth time. You pace around the motel room, bored completely out of your mind. The research books that Cas had provided supplied nothing for your curious mind and you couldn’t catch any type of signal on the black and white tv. Your phone and anything electronic was currently off limits in case anyone tried to trace the signal back to you. Could you understand why the ‘house arrest’ was necessary? Yes. Could you deal with it? Not in a thousand apocalypses.

You sigh as you lie back down on a rickety bed and kick off your boots. The springs squeak gently as you lower yourself onto it. Cas promised that he wouldn’t be gone for long. Just enough to make sure that everything was okay with your brothers Sam and Dean. You look at your watch. Well, apparently over an hour qualified for the ‘long enough’ category. You pick up a mythology book and stare at the text. You the open book fall on your face.

“Why me?” you say exasperatedly. Course, with the pages on your face, it probably sounded like, “Fmrhmph mphhhh!”

You hear a flutter of wings; your adrenaline spikes. Under the musty pillow, your fingers curl around the knife you hid. You take the book off your face, almost welcoming a battle to happen. As soon as you see who has entered your room though, you disappointedly let the knife go.

“I have returned, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I can see that Cas. How’s life at the bunker?”

“Sam and Dean are fine. They are actually doing some work on a vampire case in Tennessee currently.”

You jump off the bed. “So what are we waiting for? Let’s go chop some heads and let blood fly!”

Cas looks at you with a mixture of concern and disgust. “Why would you get excited at the prospect of decapitation?”

“My bros need me. You know it’s not safe if they go take care of stuff on their own! C’mon Cas! Please let me go with them! Just this once?”

The angel shakes his head. “Allowing you to go on a dangerous hunt would be violating protocol.” You throw your hands up in the air and begin to pace the room. Again. Cas tries to console you. “If anything happen to you, your brothers would kill me. I have been charged with protecting you.”

“You’re not the only one who’s supposed to be watching our girl.” A sly voice pops into the conversation. You hide a small smile from Castiel as your buddy the archangel appears in the room. “Afterall, it’s not like she’s jonesing around doing all kinds of immoral stuff, right?” Gabriel winks at you.

“Shut up, Gabe,” you smirk.

He puts his hands to his heart sarcastically. “I am offended! Here I am, coming to bestow upon you a treasure for which I have searched far and wide to discover and you treat me like a simple peasant!”

“What treasure? Tell me!”

Gabriel makes a zipping motion across his lips. “Mmh-mm.”

“C’mon! Please!”

Cas sighs in the corner. “Theatrics…” he mutters disdainfully.

“Is that the way this is going to be? Fine then.” You grin as you get into medieval character. “My most humble apologies to the guardian of my honor, a knight of the highest chivalry, the protector of-”

“All right, all right. You’re milking it now.” He grins and tosses something to you.

“Finally! Something besides rabbit food!” You crack a real smile as you tear vigorously shred the wrapper off a Three Musketeers bar. “Cas over here doesn’t seem to understand the importance of chocolate in a daily diet,” you gesture to the sullen angel in the corner with your prize.

“I promised your brothers to keep you safe and in good health. There is nothing healthy at all about candy.”

Gabe raises an eyebrow teasingly. “What are you now, Doctor Dismal? Even the Aztecs knew the importance of chocolate during the day. Let the kid have some fun!”

“She’s more than a child, Gabriel.”

“Yeah, yeah, we all know. The Universal Prophetess Supreme!” He makes jazz hands on the last words. Gabriel turns to address you. “So, what’s all this about still being on house arrest?”

You shrug. “Dean and Sam are on hunt without me and I’m done with these books. Again. I guess I’m just…stir crazy.”

“All right then.” Gabriel turns to his angelic brother. “Cas, I’m taking her out for a one-on-one archangel/prophet training session at the library. I’ll keep in touch.”

You groan on the bed, but Castiel nods. “Very well. You have been here for some time. It would not hurt to take training to another location.”

“Great. More dusty scroll reading! Just what I need!” You gripe sarcastically. Gabe puts a hand on your shoulder before you can protest anything else. You blink as the archangel teleports you away. You expect the little library smells and sounds. Minor talking in the background, turning pages perfuming the air with that “old book” smell, pencils scratching on paper, and creaking of shelves being passed.

Originally posted by suzievibe

Instead, you smell the beautiful combination of dead fish and salt spray. You hear gulls crying and gentle waves slapping against the side of a sandy shore. Your toes sink into petite grains of sand. Sunlight beams down on your face and heavy hunting clothing. The sky is radiantly blue against an even bluer ocean. Tinted sea foam rolls onto the ground next to your feet. You turn around in absolute amazement. While the view you first saw was all blue, behind you is various shades of green so bright and vivid, you pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming.

“Gabriel?”

“Ahem.” Beside you a little ways sits your guardian angel, sipping on a soda can under a cabana umbrella. In a Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts. He smiles and points to the waves. “Aren’t you gonna jump in?”

“I-I-I’m not dressed…”

“Psh. That’s what you’re worried about?” He snaps his fingers. No longer in jeans and flannel, you’re in a cherry one piece swimsuit decorated with white dolphins and small hibiscus flower outlines. A simple turquoise wrap skirt is knotted around your waist. “How about now?”

The child inside you leaps for joy. You rush towards water, your bare feet slapping the damp sand. You rush into the salty waves and dive. You shake your wet hair out of your face when you come up. You laugh blissfully, splashing and swimming in the glorious tropical ocean.

“Best! Research! EVER!” You cannot contain your happiness.

Gabriel smiles at your laughter, allowing for some pride to swell in his heart for his young friend. After a while, he pulls out a beach towel from thin air that matches your wrap skirt. You haul your soaking wet self out of the water. You sit down by your friend.

“Does that satisfy your stir craziness, Miss Prophetess?”

You grin and roll your eyes at the teasing name he gave you. “Thanks Gabe. I needed this today, especially after that hideous weekend studying ancient writing forever.”

“Don’t mention it kid,” he states waving his hand dismissively. “You looked like you needed some sunshine.”

“So, where are we then?”

“Some island I found in the Bermuda Triangle. I call this place ‘Gabriel’s Ultimate Island of Food, Happiness, and Hakuna Matata’,” he pauses as you laugh. “But, I think you might enjoy it as somewhere to study. Become a prophetess.”

You stare surprised. “Really? You’re serious?”

Gabriel nods. “There’s a cabin up there on the other side of that bend. Cas and I would come here to help you instead of cooping you up in some ratty motel. Plus, it’s pretty much unapproachable by anything evil ever since I set up the warding line in the reef. And man has yet to invent something to get past this angel power shielding the island.” He raises an eyebrow playfully as you glance everywhere, taking every little detail in. “So. Whadda’ya say?”

“What about my brothers?”

“Dumb and Dumber? Sure, I mean, if you wanted, I could have them come check in. Don’t think their flannel culture would fit in, but, hey, that’s between them and the fish.” He points out a pod of dolphins leaping past in the distance. “Now, this ain’t all fun and games. You’d be working hard, reading texts, doing prophety…things. But would this be better?”

“Anything’s better than that motel in the middle of Iowa,” you readily reply. “I’m in. On one condition”

Gabriel shrugs. “Anything, kid.”

“I get to change the name.”

“Wow. I provide a whole island for you, complete with water slide from the room in your cabin to the ocean, and you want to change the name?”

You laugh. “Picky, aren’t I?”

“Fine, fine, you rascal. Island’s all yours. And what do you plan on calling my awesome island?”

You take a deep breath, inhaling all the tropical and nautical scents. You smile at your best friend. “Filemu.”

anonymous asked:

What do you think about non-offending (anti-contact) MAP (minor attracted person) communities? Sounds like they just try to support each other, but I feel a bit suspicious. There is website Virtuous Pedophiles and I saw plenty of screenshots of their forums (closed for not verified users) discussing sexual fantasies about children they know in real life. They also claim to be discriminated, but idk how. I have no idea what to think about this. Are MAP communities good or bad in the long run?

What do you think about non-offending (anti-contact) MAP (minor attracted person) communities? 

Myth

Sounds like they just try to support each other, but I feel a bit suspicious.

Yeah support each other by normalizing pedophilia

There is website Virtuous Pedophiles and I saw plenty of screenshots of their forums (closed for not verified users) discussing sexual fantasies about children they know in real life.

That’s why “non-offending” is a myth.

They also claim to be discriminated, but idk how.

Trust your gut, they’re not.

I have no idea what to think about this.

I’m giving you permission to not need permission to have “verified” knowledge handed down to you. You’re unsettled because it’s unsettling. Men have nothing to lose by subjecting children to sexual abuse, and lots of power to gain, if it’s considered “normal” sexuality.

Are MAP communities good or bad in the long run?

Terrible and I’ll tell you why: they are using the very brief window the symptom of intense intrusive thoughts had some publicity to claim that either their pedophilia is a) a mental illness or b) a sexuality, depending on which argument suits them better for there current audience.

Why do pedophile’s need community? The idea that it’s a “struggle” is a bold face lie: the very notion of controlling the sexuality of children is what’s appealing to pedophiles. It is the deal. It’s the point. They aren’t suffering from these thoughts so much as they’re suffering from the knowledge that they can’t just be abusive shit stains without consequence. They don’t fucking care about the health of children, they care about their own asses.

So getting a bunch of them together in a room so that they can all complain about how hard it is that it feels just so great to jack off to what is literally horror scenarios because it makes them feel bad afterward because they know people would be (rightfully) disgusted isn’t going to achieve anything but get them all in a room together to validate themselves. 

Ask yourself, what needs to be done to prioritize children? Politely ask pedophiles to stop being excited about the notion of abuse, or remove pedophilia from the planet? 

Children have a lot to gain for every pedophile dropping dead right this second, if only it would be so.

run.

Words; 2,274

Pairing; jimin x reader

Warnings; slight angst, fluff, soulmate!au

A/N; ahhh this is finally finished!!! this is officially the longest part so far in the soulmate!au series, so i hope you all enjoy it!!! i’m actually very proud of this and i worked very hard on it, so your feedback is encouraged! separate requests are currently closed, but requests for the soulmate!au’s are still open!! namjoon, hoseok, taehyung, and jungkook are still open for request! thank you so much for reading this and supporting me, i love you all very much! ♥

P.S; if anyone seemed to be confused by the timer’s format, it goes years:months:hours:seconds, if there are any more confusions please feel free to ask!!!!

Originally posted by kva-231


“The countdown starts at zero, and it should count the time until you meet your soulmate.” The teacher’s words didn’t seem to faze anyone else in the room, but it definitely struck something within you. This was a lesson everyone was taught, being almost the equivalent to your normal algebra class. It slowly grew to become a required class, especially for kinds about to graduate. You remember not exactly having to take this class, because it was not like you needed to anyway; but now that you were about only days away from graduating, it had become expected from you. Soulmates had become a part of normal life in the last couple decades, slowly climbing to the top priority of most people; even more so than electronics. It became one of the most important parts of society, and you had somehow spaced out while learning about it? Almost anything could’ve distracted you at this point, you were completely bored of the class. It was all because of the timer on your wrist, 17:12:05:46 it read, and it just made you want to get out of this damned closed space called a classroom and venture throughout the world to find him. The timer was something that everyone on this whole entire plant was born with, and they would have it for the rest of their lives. It even came with an annoying ticking noise; you were never able to hear it outside of your body, meaning you couldn’t hear anyone else’s but yours. The sound traveled through your arteries, exactly like your blood did, and they followed right into your brain. Sometimes the sound was minor, something that wouldn’t bother you often; but it was when your heart began racing, when you could feel your head just pounding in pain. You stared blankly as the seconds passed by on your arm, and all that went through your head was one question. When will I meet my soulmate??

You listened as the teacher droned on in front of you, watching as she paced back and forth in front of the lecture hall. Words like time, countdown, and soulmate fell out of her mouth over and over, and you just wished you could pay any less attention than you currently were. The noise in the classroom had been completely cut off, the only audible sounds the chirping of birds from outside, or the steady breathing of the person right next to you. Only seconds ago were people chatting back and forth, ignoring the teacher just as much as you were actually listening; until the really interesting question was asked. What happens when you don’t find your soulmate? In the world we have been dreaded to live in, finding your soulmate was just like a game. A game just like Where’s Waldo? , except your game board is the entire world and you’re being timed. Numbers had stained your arm your whole life, but no one really wanted it; it was almost like tattooing your ex’s name on yourself. But yet again, it was still worth it for when you really met the one. It seemed that everyone was only half a man without their soulmate, the part of you you’ve been missing ever since you were born. The clock reminded you of when you met that one person who completed you, something nostalgic for the both of you.

Now, finding your soulmate was one thing; one of the greatest things in the world in fact. It wasn’t so simple, yet, it’s so worth it. Because not finding them, is a whole other world. The world isn’t perfect, and neither are the humans that inhabit it. “The system is flawed.” The words caught everyone by surprise, of course, this isn’t something people were told everyday. Some believed it was for their own safety, while others believed it was necessary for their children to know the consequences of their actions; and in this case, they were both. “There are consequences when you don’t find your soulmate.” The teacher’s actions seemed to fit both perfectly. They told you that danger was coming, but they left out one important detail; what was the danger?


Cheers echoed from throughout the field, tears of joy and sadness were all shed. It was the last day of school, we’d be free. Or that’s what everyone thought. Students rampaged through the hallways, trashing math books and notebooks all the way until they got outside. You smiled back and forth between your group of friends, wishing them all goodbye before taking a step outside of the school gate. You felt like you were walking on rainbows, almost like the busy day you’ve ever experienced so far; until you felt a sharp pain in your wrist, right where your timer was.

It almost felt like a stab to your wrist, but you looked to see you were greeted by no blood or knife. You hissed in pain and you went to examine your wrist, you hadn’t run into anything so you had no idea what it could have been. You had become so focused on the pain that had struck you, that you seemed to fail to notice your timer beginning to count down from it’s previous place; and of course this scared you enough, plus the fact that it was counting down really fast. Minutes began to count down as fast as seconds, the constant changes of numbers was making you go dizzy. Pain was now coming from both your head and wrist, you held your head with your wrist as you tried to call out for help. Your eyes were clenched tightly in pain, but when you opened them to search for help; it was like you were looking a mirror. Fellow students around you were the exact same, some whining in pain while others tried helping out as much as possible. A loud piercing siren began attacking your ears, driving you even more crazy. Your knees began to sink, your body falling even closer and closer to the ground. You let out one last groan before you finally hit the ground, your vision disappearing with it.


You had finally woken up from your daze the next day, your eyes first met by a plain white and dotted ceiling. The constant and quite memorable ticking of the timer on your wrist was the only audible sound in the room. It slowly became obvious to you that you were in a hospital room; to you, hospitals were always easily told apart from other buildings. It wasn’t the huge letters in front of the building that said Hospital on them, or the any of the distinct physical features in general.

It was the way you felt once you walked into the hospital, it was the heavy air that carried such emotions; depression and despair, or happiness and joy. The cries from down the halls would echo into every bit and corner of the hospital, it almost seemed to bring tears to your own eyes. It was the smell; not the smell of disinfectants, but the smell of death. The kind of thing that will stick with you the rest of your life, that’s what a hospital was.

You could hear voices from probably a whole crown od people from inside your room, commotion from outside seeming to spiral out of control. Finally, after a while of sitting through the noise, was when a doctor had finally came in to inform you of what has happened; and finally you had figured out the danger, the one no one was told about until it happened to them.

It happened to everyone was what you had been told, in fact, apparently almost a hundred people your age were admitted into the hospital the exact same time you were. You wouldn’t say it was a curse or just plain bad luck, but it was similar. When one reached the age of 18, your clock resets in a way. It stops at 18:00:00:00, and begins to count down at what the doctor said was a normal pace; but you remember exactly how fast yours began to count down, and you knew for sure that wasn’t normal. “I’ve never heard of this happen to anyone before Miss, but I would assume it means your soulmate is near.” You were beginning to drift off, not pay attention to the doctor whatsoever; but at those words your ears seemed to perk up. “Since they are closer to you, it may seem it will be easier to find them, but please keep in mind the consequences.”

Oh right, there are consequences, you thought to yourself. Just like the teacher had said only hours before, they system is flawed and the universe is sadistic. It’s like you could see it right before your eyes, death. That was the consequence, if you don’t find your soulmate before your timer reaches zero; guess what? Both you and your soulmate die instantly, isn’t that quite pleasant to hear when apparently have only an hour left to find your soulmate? 00:00:01:27 was the time stated on your wrist, counting down at a normal pace. “Well, I just lost 18 years of my life,” you muttered before getting up from your hospital bed and ripping out your IV.

Luckily for you, due to the large amount of people coming in to the hospital, you were allowed be discharged earlier. You had dropped into full panic mode once you left the cluttered and stuffy building, breathing in the fresh air to calm yourself down. The ticking of your timer was now pounding against your skull, the constant sensation began giving you a headache. Despite your growing pain, your feet began to lift themselves, and you began to run. You were stumbling over everything; rocks, cracks, maybe even your own shadows. Your arms pushed out frantically, moving pedestrians out of the way to find him. They told me he was near, you screamed internally. At this point, the only thing you could so was run; run until your hands and feet were full of scars, run until your heart stopped beating. You had become so lost in your own fear, your own despair that you didn’t notice the black haired boy running the opposite direction of you. He was practically mimicking your actions, he ran full force throughout the crowd with his hand held against his head. His eyes were shut tight in pain, but he pushed on; in fact, it looked as if he were about to run right into you.

As the time got even closer and closer to zero, your vision began changing. You began to see beautiful things, almost resembling a heaven of some sorts. Your memories resembled flowers, all lining up behind you as you continued to run; but once they got far enough from you, the began to dry and crumble up. The boy running at you, had become a butterfly; and you were determined to chase it for its beauty. And the ticking of your timer, it had become a beautiful melody, one that may as well put you to sleep.

I wasn’t until the butterfly finally landed on your finger, that you finally realized none of this was real. Your mind began tearing down the perfect heaven you dream of, and suddenly you were back in the middle of the sidewalk. The headache was still there, but you head realized that there was no ticking of your timer.ou quickly peeled your own eyes open and checked your timer, it stopped. 00:00:00:01 was what it said, and you had never been so confused in your life. Was it all just a silly joke?

“I still haven’t found my sou—wow”, your mind had begun running wild and you had become physically breathless at the sight in front of you. You were sat on the warm, concrete floor as if you just fell; well, you fell on top of a beautiful boy first.You were just running a minute ago, and now you were faced with a an extremely good looking boy? Your mind was still working to take everything that just happened in, until it finally clicked within you; this boy is my soulmate.

The first thing you thought of doing was checking his timer. You grabbed his wrist gently, noticing both of your hands were still shaking. You read the time on his clock aloud as you lined it with your own, 00:00:00:01.

“H-here, let me help you up.” You stood up first, lending the boy your hand and bringing him up to your height. He wasn’t much taller than you, his hair was a shade of jet black, and his complexion one of a kind. “I’m Y/N,” you held your hand out one last time to properly greet him. Instead of shaking your hand, he just casually laced his fingers with yours, a playful smirk displayed on his face.

“I see I’ve finally met you my love, could you see that I was ready to die for you? Aish, oh how you scared me darling, but at least we’re not dead right? Let me take you home, I’m Jimin.”

I have to compose a piece for my music theory final, and I am trying to write words for it. I have it partially written but I have run out of ideas and I need your help. The song is called ‘Carpe Nacht’ and is for soprano and marimba. It’s a mysterious song written in minor-sounding key.

Think weird dreams, profound insomnia-driven thoughts, ‘Starry Night,’ and slightly-altered reality.

How might one ‘seize the night’?

Composers are freaking amazing.
Like someone can sit down with some sheet music and be like
This is what the violins should do.
This is what the bassoons will do.
This is what the timpani will do.
But the tuba will also do that.
But it will sound different. But good different.

And the composer will be like
The notes are going to go up here.
But down here.
And here it’s going to go back up. But it’s going to sound different. Minor. But good minor.

And then they’ll be done imagining all these sounds because the sounds will be on the paper.
And once they’re on the paper it’s different because the composer no longer needs to imagine the sounds.
Because now that they’re on paper other people can play the sounds. Because now they can see what the composer was imagining.

And then the composer gets to hear what his mind heard.
And the composer can share that with everyone.
And we get to hear it.
And it’s freaking amazing.

-H

I step outside and thank my lucky stars we won’t be soaked.
I love the smell of wet pavement and a withered storm.
The kind that lasts for days and drenches everything
When it’s all over you can still get wet.
Like a memory that still feels real for a couple of days.
I hate getting my shoes wet until I’ve got you in my arms.
The car is a bit frigid and then I’ll turn on the heat that takes forever to start.
And while I’m waiting I’ll think.
This is what it’s all about.
The sound of minor tsunamis erupting from beneath my tires is all we hear until you
play some retro music that I didn’t even realize I liked until you started singing it.
Waves of nostalgia are refreshing like breathing old oxygen that hasn’t gathered dust.
For a minute you’re loose, we’ve taken off the garrote wire and I’m feeling it too.
I’ll manage to park while distracted and we’ll stop for a minute.
Swap some sorrows, and some emotions over the sound of rain drops gently drumming the roof in sync with my fingers on the dash.
We’ll trade some laughs too.
But I mean
I didn’t care what you said or didn’t say about me
Because
When I told you
just how great I really thought you looked
gorgeous really but I didn’t want to over do it
but I mean wow
your cheeks lit up the car and maybe the rest of the dimly lit blacktop
and the way you’d look a way for a second
and smile like
no one ever tells you how beautiful you are or
that maybe no one ever seems to mean it
It was like watching a rose bloom in a matter of seconds
and at that point I knew
Even if you woke up tomorrow and wanted nothing to do with me anymore
That for a moment there
On a rainy night
in a dim neon parking lot
Everything was alright
And nothing that happens afterwards can change that.

—  She’s a storm cloud and I hate umbrellas
Perfect Pitch

A SnowBaz fic for the Carry On Countdown

Simon

I have never been musically gifted.  I’ve tried to learn various instruments in the past, but I can never really get an understanding of it.  Playing notes and making music are not the same thing.

           And yet here I am, sitting on my bed, plucking determinedly at an ukulele.  

           Every string I strum sounds horrible, and I can’t tell if it’s out of tune or if I’m just completely tone-deaf.  Could be that.

           “What are you doing, Snow?”

           I turn.  Baz is at the door, shrugging off his coat.

           I shrug.  “Trying something new.”

           “Where did you get that?”

           “I brought it from home.”  If one could call it that.  Just because I lived there over the summer doesn’t make it home.  If anything Watford, magic, is my home, and that is certainly not where I found the ukulele.

           “Well, it sounds awful.”

           “I know,” I grimace, strumming another sour chord. I don’t even know if my fingers are in the right places to play a real chord.  Nothing has sounded right so far.

           Suddenly I have an idea.

           “Baz,” I look up at him as he moves toward his bed, “aren’t you a musician?”

           He looks wary.  “Yes.”

           “Could you make this wretched instrument not sound so bloody awful?”

           He considers me for a minute, then reaches over and takes the ukulele gingerly.  It’s made of a light wood and it stands out against all the black he wears. My sworn enemy holding the cheeriest of all instruments.  It’s an odd contrast.

           He brushes a thumb over the strings and winces. “It’s horribly out of tune.”

           “That explains a lot.”

           “Are you really so tone-deaf that you hadn’t noticed?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at me.  I think it’s meant to be condescending, but it doesn’t really come across that way.  It’s mostly just curious.  He must be in a good mood today.

           Or maybe he’s too tired to fight.  

           Wouldn’t that be nice.

           “I guess I am.”

           He looks back down at the instrument and starts turning the pegs at the end, plucking one string at a time and moving the pitch up and down until he’s satisfied with it.  Concentration furrows his brow and he stares at nothing in particular as he listens.  I try to sit as quietly as I can.  Rain pounds on the roof and I want to tell it to shut up so that he can hear.

           Several agonizing minutes later he passes it back to me.  I give it a strum, and for the first time it actually sounds like a playable instrument. Better, in fact, like even someone like me could make music off of it.

           “Thanks,” I marvel.  “How did you do that without a tuner?”

           He points at his ear, looking down at the floor. “Perfect pitch.”

           Of course you fucking have perfect pitch.

           “Oh,” I say, nodding.  “Well, thanks.”  I strum the strings a few more times, enjoying the sound.

           “Put your middle finger on the third fret of the first string,” Baz mutters, staring at his phone.

           “Um, what?”

           He looks up.  “Middle finger, third fret, first string.”  I stare back at him blankly.  “You don’t know what any of that means, do you?”

           “Nope.”

           “Crowley,” he whispers.  “Pass it here.”  He takes it from me and demonstrates.  

When he strums, the ukulele finally makes music.  A clean, clear note rings through our room.  He passes it back to me and after a moment of fumbling, I produce the same sound.  “C chord,” he murmurs.  I grin at the instrument and play the chord again.

           “What else?” I ask.

           “What?”

           “Give me another chord,” I invite, “teach me something.”

           He looks like he doesn’t want to, but then he takes the ukulele again.  He places his fingers in a much more complicated position and plays another note. It sounds lovely, but when I try it comes out like a goose in mourning.

           “Wrong fret,” he says.  “Your first finger should be on the second fret.  Pass it here again.”

           “Just position my fingers.”

           He blinks.  “What?”

           “We can’t keep passing it back and forth, that would be ridiculous,” I reason.  “Just come over here and help me.”

           “I’m not going to position your fingers for you, Snow.”

           I shrug.  “Fine.”  I stretch my hand to a painful extent and place my fingers in the most distorted position I can manage before strumming hard.  A horrible sound comes coughing out of the instrument.  Baz gives me a look like he’s waiting for me to stop acting like a child.  I raise my eyebrows at him like I’ll stop when he gets his arse over here.

           He stands.  “Fuck you,” he sighs, dropping onto my bed, causing me to bounce up and down. I try not to smirk as he reaches his left arm around me to move my fingers into place.  After a few tries, a much nicer chord is filling the room.  “That’s E minor,” he informs me.  I play C and E minor in succession.  They sound incomplete.  Nice, but incomplete.  

           “What next?”

           “Middle finger on the second fret of the bottom string, that’s A minor.”

           We work slowly through a series of chords until I’m stuttering my way through what could almost be called a song.  Baz moves my fingers as little as possible, like touching me repulses him.  It probably does.  His face is beside my ear as I work through the succession, and he breathes the chord names along the way.

           “I didn’t know you played ukulele,” I muse.

           “I’ve only dabbled,” he shrugs, “I can play a few songs.”  He takes my right wrist and sets it strumming to a simple rhythm.  In between chords I can hear that the rain has stopped.  We’ve chased it away.

           “Go ahead, then,” I say, passing the ukulele back to him.  He gives it a trial strum before going into the pattern he’s been teaching me.  Of course, it sounds a million times better when he plays.  His touch is more delicate and soft than mine, like instead of making music himself he’s coaxing the instrument to sing, like they’re partners, fully reliant on one another.  

           I don’t know if he’s aware of it, but he starts humming, and now I recognize the song.  The combination of the airy chords and his voice are like a lullaby.  I can practically feel all the tension easing from my mind.  It’s just us and our music, and for once we’re not fighting.

           Perhaps I like this better than fighting.

           “Can’t Help Falling In Love,” I murmur.  He nods.  “Good choice.”

           Baz meets my gaze.  His eyes are calm, like the music has forced the storm inside them to become smooth, like glass.

           I can’t look away from them.

           Why can’t I look away from them?

           Luckily I don’t have to.  He turns away after a matter of seconds.  I shake my head to clear it.

           “Keep practicing,” he mutters, placing the ukulele on my lap and putting on his shoes.  

           I don’t say anything as he leaves.  

           I stay exactly where I am, long after he’s gone.

           I feel like I’ve fallen into that sea of glass, like I’m immobilized and drifting into a calm sleep.

           I can still feel his fingers on mine.  They were gentle, like he was afraid.

           I think right now I’d be afraid to touch him.

           And for some inexplicable reason, that thought has me smiling.

pettypingpongpaddle  asked:

i'm sorry i still can't calm down about that recent episode man... and another comic divergence thing is that, they ACTUALLY made natsume sleep beside tanuma in the anime!!! I always have a hunch the animators secretly ships tanunatsu!! Okay this is such a minor detail and i sound so OBSESSED (which is not wrong), wow this is so not cool I can't keep my calm anymore!!

The animators are honestly giving me so many little things to love and??? Just like the way they cut together last weeks preveiw kinda made it look like Natsume was watching Tanuma and that was cute lol.

But yeah, SAME I’m so happy with the new episodes I just…. listen…… let my boys Tanuma and Natsume be happily married, they basically are already I mean.

They sit together. Where are the other people? doesn’t matter. Their alone time.

TEASE EACHOTHER. Look at Natsume’s face LOOK. 

Casual phYSICAL AFFECTION. SHOULDER TOUCH!

Tanu sitting with poor worn out Natsume with pretty sunset lights

Which, as I like to point out heavily mirrors these moments

Parts which really are meant to show love and care between Tanuma and his family, rehashed between Tanuma and Natsume which is sweet. I also like the connotations of, in both of these flashbacks to his childhood he mentions being ashamed and sad for worrying his aunt and his father, yet when the roles are reversed and he’s in the spot they were in, but with Natsume to worry over, he’s quick to assure him that it’s all fine. (boy needs to think about these things tbh, hold himself in the same light as others so on and so forth.

THEY DO CLEANING TOGETHER. DOMESTIC.

The way Natsume makes this damn face while quietly watching Tanuma from the background.

Basically the animators are giving me happy married Tanatsu’s and I’m Very okay with that.

Valkyrie Part 3: Encountering

You find the basic idea to this series here

Part 1: x; Part 2: x

Summary of the plot: Scott and Isaac make a surprising discovery while watching Y/N and Y/N needs to give her new life in Beacon Hills some perspective,

Characters involved: Scott, Isaac, Lydia and reader (kinda Theo) 

Word Count: 1673

Originally posted by codychristian

Isaac is adjusting his position in the passenger’s seat for the millionth time now, pushing out an impatient groan and grabbing the bag of cold fries from the dashboard. He and Scott have been sitting in Scott’s car and staring into darkness for hours now without finding so much as a trace from Y/N. Her window is open and there’s light behind it but she hasn’t appeared herself. Scott’s eyes grow heavier with every second and he starts to regret that he already drank up all the coke.

“Remind me why I’m doing this again?”, Isaac grumbles, throwing one of the fries into his mouth. “This is even more boring than doing the night shift at the hospital.”

“You’re doing this because you owe me for the Jennifer Cole incident”, Scott retorts.

“Hey, we don’t talk about that! Ever!”, Isaac warns him infuriated, shooting him a deathly glare that doesn’t intimidate Scott the slightest bit. He just grins and turns his focus back on the apartment building.

“Don’t worry. I’ll use it against you when you least expect it.”

“Very funny”, Isaac growls while he rolls his eyes before he puts the bag of fries back and sinks into his seat. Eating doesn’t really make this any more exciting. Nothing makes this exciting. He lets his gaze wander over the interior of the car, eager to find something to distract himself, and they finally land on Y/N’s picture. He grabs it and examines it closely under Scott’s attentive observation.

“You know, she’s kinda hot”, he admits, somewhat impressed.

Scott’s amused grin grows wider.

“Don’t you say that to Stiles. He will hold you a lecture about how she’s a serious suspect in a crime.”

“She looks quite innocent to me”, Isaac judges with a frown while he turns the picture in every direction, looking at it from different angles. “But then, those are always the worst.”

Scott laughs, thinking to himself how right he is with that. Then he turns back towards the apartment and freezes all of a sudden.

“Isaac?”, he mumbles, drawing the beta’s attention towards the dark figure that appeared on the street while they joked around. They both watch curiously as, whoever that person is, starts to climb up to her window in a way that no human could ever climb. Isaac lets the picture sink and swallows hard as the intruder disappears into the apartment.

Isaac immediately heaves himself up. “We need to help her”, he says determined but Scott puts his hand on his breast and holds him back.

“No! If we go in there now, she’ll know exactly that we’re watching her! We’d give everything away.”

Isaac just blinks at him incredulously. “Are you crazy? What if he wants to harm her?”

Scott struggles with himself. Usually he’d totally be on Isaac’s side, eager to safe a helpless soul from an unknown threat. However, according to Stiles this girl is not helpless and he learned to trust his judgements the hard way. Therefore he stays tough, although it takes all his willpower.

“We’ll wait”, he decides, shooting Isaac a warning look. For a moment it seems like Isaac will disobey. He tenses and his arm hovers by the door in an insecure fashion. Then he sighs and leans back again, staring plainly at the apartment with concern written all over his face.

And like that they wait. And wait. The joking is over. Scott starts to doubt his decision more and more with every passing second. He tries to listen in with his supernatural hearing but it’s too far away, even for an alpha. A sensation of worry overcomes him and he starts to feel somewhat edgy. Isaac probably smells it.

As he’s already about to jump up to do something, the dark figure reappears in her window and quickly climbs back down. Scott squints his eyes, desperate to see more of that mysterious person. It turns around to scan its surroundings, almost relaxed. As it finally passes a lantern, Scott gets the first good look at him.

He feels like all the blood in his veins goes cold.

“That’s impossible”, he pushes out in utter shock while his brown eyes widen and his face turns an unhealthy shade of grey.

Isaac frowns. “What do you mean? Who is that?”

“Someone I thought I’d never see again”, Scott mumbles darkly. “Theo Raeken.”


You don’t hear from Theo again in the next few days. His warning still echoes in your head but you remind yourself that it doesn’t really matter. You are not planning to meet this sheriff again if it’s avoidable. But you definitely need a job. Nothing happened since Theo’s appearance, you didn’t have to accompany any dying supernatural soul into oblivion and you are thankful for that. But your life starts to become grey, to lose its importance. Oh, and you also need the money.

That’s why you make the decision to visit the local vet clinic with your papers in your hands. It’s the only place in this town where you have a minor chance to find labour due to your chaotic lifestyle since you have found out about your powers with fifteen. You’ve always loved animals and discovered that they’re a lot easier to have around than humans.

As you climb out of the bus and discover the small building you already begin to doubt. It’s just so improbable that they need further help here but you’re desperate. At least you have to try. Therefore you ignore the fact that the parking lot is empty except for a green motorbike and a shiny Toyota and walk towards the front door, straightening your shoulders.

A little bell rings as you enter the abandoned reception. You frown and wonder for a second if nobody is here but then you hear noises from the back of the building that nobody should be capable to hear from this distance. You don’t want to eavesdrop but this is not a thing that you can turn off so easily.

“Scott, he said that we are supposed to wait! And I don’t like to admit it, but I think he’s right”, the voice of a girl hisses urgently. Her words are followed by a deep sigh from another person that’s definitely masculine.

“If she knows something about him, we need to ask her! Otherwise the whole town could be endangered.”

You raise your eyebrows and take a step forward unconsciously. Now this is interesting. And it doesn’t sound like vet business at all. All of a sudden you’re eager to hear more about this danger.

An unknown third voice destroys that opportunity.

“Guys, somebody came in.”

What the hell? How can this guy know? This gets weirder and weirder.

You hurry to look casual and innocent as you hear their steps coming closer, although you almost burst with curiosity.

Three people walk through the door behind the counter and you scan them quickly. A tanned boy with dark hair and kind eyes, a beautiful redhead with red lips and another guy with blonde curls and a smirk that slowly drips from his face as his eyes land on you.

It’s quite the same with all three of them and their reaction startles you. They all stop in their track simultaneously and stare at you, almost in shock. Irritation bubbles up in your stomach while you shift on your feet uncomfortably. You’re pretty sure that you’ve never seen a single one of them. However, they stare at you like you’re a ghost. Great. Best start ever. You don’t know that to say anymore.

The girl is the first to regain her composure.

“Ehm…sorry…how can we help you?”

Right. The reason why you’re here. You step to the counter, try to ignore the inquiring gazes from the guys and put your papers on the desk with an insecure smile. God, why are your hands trembling? Ridiculous.

“I just wanted to ask if you need a help”, you state, determined to get it over with and flee from this awkward situation. “I have a lot of experience in vet clinics. Well…I don’t really have a degree or something but I’ve learned a lot in minor jobs.”

This sounds awfully weak. Your heart already sinks as she picks up the papers and starts to read them with a frown. Afterwards she shoots the tanned boy a look that’s a little bit too meaningful for your taste.

“I think that’s a good idea. She could help you while Deaton’s away. You should let her try, Scott.”

Scott turns to her, displaying a startled expression. “But…”

“Trust me”, she interrupts him with a hint of authority that’s hard to miss.

Their conversation confuses you even more. Everything is weird. Scott’s irritation, the girls’ words and the stern expression of the other guy. You feel like you’re under surveillance and very aware of yourself. You stay nevertheless. God, you really need the money.

Scott throws a look on the papers himself now. As he’s finished, he looks up at you and for the first time since you entered this building, he smiles. It’s not really convincing but strangely enough it calms your nerves immediately.

“Alright, let’s try. Tomorrow at nine.”

You need a moment to get what he said. Then a big grin brushes your lips.

“Seriously? Wow, that’s awesome! Thank you so much!”, you exclaim sincerely, although you can’t believe it. “I,,,I’ll be there! Thank you!”

Their eyes still rest on you as you leave the clinic, feeling absolutely ecstatic.


The first thing you do as you reach your apartment is to go into the kitchen to make yourself some coffee. That’s your routine. You’re quite addicted to this dark liquid. As you get a cup from the upper shelf, you throw a look at the coffee machine and stop midway. There’s a note attached to it that has not been there as you left the house.

The message is clear.

You’ve made a horrible mistake. Leave the city or deal with the consequences. T


–> Part 4