my-struggles

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@sciderman happy birthday u giant nerd

anonymous asked:

i feel so impure for my love of the woo bros. i keep telling myself that i should just stick with taewoon, since he's actually my age and i like me some adults. i see pictures of zico and i have to remind myself "he's a baby, a child, he probably still plays with army men. he's just... uncomfortably handsome what the shit."

He only 2 years younger then Taewoon becoming 24 in a month and half. I mean if you don’t like younger men it’s cool because I don’t but he is a adult…and really handsome young adult 

I knew all the cadences of her voice, and they were what I was listening to now, not to what she was saying. First the warmth and the sympathy and the longing, then her voice seemed to contract into something small, as if it wanted to snuggle up to me. My own was filled with distance.
—  Karl Ove Knausgård, from My Struggle: Book One (Archipelago Books, 2012)

Weird thing about drawing Shiro is he always ALWAYS turns out looking PERFECT or super weird and there is no in between.

open to: humans and demons (or if an angel is on the right side of the fence?)
location: a sidewalk or street inside Paradise
date: october 3rd, 5:00 AM

There was something in her blood that longed to run. To get out, to get away from this place, this town full of bloodshed and death threats. Was it just yesterday she’d wanted to stand strong? To stand for something, hold her ground, and protect Junia and Stella however she could? She’d been so proud to be a part of things, so pleased that Adelaide was allowing her to come along, it was almost giddiness. Now her legs felt thick and leaden, as if there were a ball and chain attached.

She’d slept barely, awfully, fitfully through the night, the weight of knowledge pressed behind her eyelids. Lydia and Wes had agreed that they’d have to divulge the contents of the list today, but the words were achingly heavy on her tongue. They were a bitter poison, lodged in her throat, forcing her to swallow the pain. Keeping it secret seemed easier somehow; it was the first time in her life she understood why people could lie about things that would change the course of another person’s life. 

They hadn’t determined what the list was for, but one word was enough to imply it was bad: SUBJECTS. She, Holly, Josephine, Leo, Wren, Evangeline, and Dominic. Too many humans from their ragtag bunch had been chosen, and for what? They’d barely gleaned anything, though they were sure it had something to do with medical experimentation. Wes had discussed it with Raphael, but so far, they hadn’t decided on any truth concrete enough to share. Any reason for them to be singled out.

Fear was dogged at her heels, licking at her spine in the form of cold sweat. So she’d stayed awake, pulling on clothes and pushing out the door, the red ‘X’ on it making her flinch. She and Holly were marked for violence, somehow, and not knowing the how of it made it even worse. Lydia pushed forward, away from the house and the omen on the door, past other houses marked similarly. She had to tell them today, but what good would it do? What good could it do? 

SUBJECTS. SUBJECTS. SUBJECTS. SUBJECTS. SUBJECTS – 

It seemed tattooed onto her inner eyelids. Every blink was a step closer to fear that closed her throat and brought tears to her eyes. How cruel it was, to be forewarned about a future you could not avoid. There was nowhere to run in Paradise that the demons would not find her. Nothing to do that would truly stop them. She’d never felt hopeless before, not truly, but she felt it creeping at her heart, insidious and cold.

Lydia wrapped her arms around herself, moving forward, gaining a determined pace as she attempted to walk faster than her gloomy thoughts could follow. Tears blurred her vision for a moment, and that moment was enough to send her body crashing into another’s. She stumbled and fell, hitting her knees on the sidewalk. It hurt, jarring her as her teeth clacked together, but a sudden determination not to appear weak had her brushing the wetness from her eyes, the sleeves of her sweater soaking tears from her cheeks. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.” 

guess what time it is!

its tiem to disappoint my mother because im seriously mentally ill and mildly physically unwell!

its also tiem to make #relatable gallows humor jokes about it!

  • Me:Wow! Anyone who judges someone's ability to speak a language based on their foreign accent is a total asshat. An accent is a sign of hard work and bravery, not of inferiority. Look at you go speaking English with that beautiful accent! You go, you!
  • Me:Ojalá que yo pudiera hablar español tan bien como ella habla inglés.
  • Me:...
  • Me:You sound so gringa. Listen to your Rs. So badly pronounced. Go back to school. Why can't I say this right? My Spanish is so bad. *sadface*