no ones ever on at night

anonymous asked:

This is a cute article showing all the times Westbrook has posted about Taylor: sbnation(.)com/nba/2017/6/27/15878640/taylor-swift-congratulates-russell-westbrook-nba-mvp-award

Taylor Swift comes ‘out of the woods’ to congratulate Russell Westbrook on MVP award

Westbrook is a longtime Taylor Swift fan.

Russell Westbrook finally won the MVP award he has longed for on Monday night at the first-ever NBA Awards show. It was a great moment for Westbrook as he thanked his team, his family, and even the media. As the praise came rolling in on Twitter, one from Taylor Swift showed up on the Oklahoma City Thunder Twitter account.

The video from Taylor is significant for two reasons. Reason one is that Swift has essentially been hiding from the media since last summer. She’s said very little publicly lately about anything at all, yet she was ready to come “out of the woods” to congratulate Westbrook because Russ is the greatest. Excuse my pun, it’s a Taylor Swift song. Seriously, though, she’s been MIA for so long, it turned into a thing.

The other is that Westbrook is a pretty big Swift fan. We first found out about it in 2015 when Russ was singing along to “Bad Blood” in his car.

A post shared by Russell Westbrook (@russwest44) on May 22, 2015 at 3:06pm PDT

And then this happened.

And then Russ went to her concert.

A post shared by Russell Westbrook (@russwest44) on Aug 26, 2015 at 8:19am PDT

And again, when Westbrook was singing “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together.”


Congratulations again to Westbrook on his MVP Award. And as always, let Westbrook be Westbrook.


- @sgarrett49

I have died everday
Waiting for you
Darling don’t be afraid
I have loved you
For a thousand years
I’ll love you for a thousand more

The first time you’d heard the song, you fell in love completely. It was slow, it was sappy, and it was beautiful. You decided that would be your opening number for every show you played from then on out. Sure, your “shows” were actually just open mic nights at local bars and coffee shops, but that was your stage to own when you were on it, and own it you did.

One Saturday night, you had yourself all set up in front of the microphone, one foot propped on the rung of the stool legs below you while your guitar rested on your knee. 

“Y’all ready?” You smiled at the small crowd. they cheered and whistled. You were a regular at the little bar, but this was the first time you’d ever been on stage in front of these people. They were just your friends, your drinking buddies. “Alright, here we go.” You cleared your throat and sucked in a deep breath through your nose, playing a single chord on the strings.

At the door, a man with a long coat heard your voice sing the first words of the song.

“No.” He breathed. “It’s not…” Turning his face toward you, he watched as your lips moved along the microphone and your fingers hit the strings perfectly. He walked to you, planting himself in an empty booth as his eyes stayed transfixed on you.

You finished the song along with four others, then raised your glass and thanked the crowd. As you walked to the bar, the man followed you, leaving enough room for it to not be too creepy. Sinking down on a bar stool, you gave the bartender a friendly smile and flagged him down. 

“The usual?” He grinned. You nodded and passed him a five dollar bill. “And for your friend?” He nodded in the direction of the man who’d been watching you.

“I came alo- Jared?” You turned and locked eyes with the familiar hazel ones of your past. A tight smile pulled at his lips as he laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Hey.” He brought his eyes up to meet yours again.

“Hey? You find me in a random bar in Austin and you say hey?” You guffawed.

“It’s - it’s not exactly a random bar.” He chuckled. “I own this place.” His eyes darted around. “They told me we had live music this weekend, so I figured I’d come check it out.” He shrugged. “Didn’t know it’d be you.”

“I signed up for the open mic night two days ago. You own San Jac’s?” Your eyes widened.

“You live in Austin?” He echoed your voice inflection. 

“I have for about a year.” You nodded, sipping your drink.

“Didn’t think to call an old friend?” He smirked.

“Last I recall, we weren’t exactly friends. You stole my best friend from me on prom night! Me and Krissy were going together because neither of us had dates and then big bad Padalecki comes along… dork. I had to go stag!” You shoved his upper arm, definitely not missing the muscle he’d acquired over the ten years since you’d seen him. “What are you doing in Austin anyway?” You fiddled with the straw in your glass.

“Well big bad Padalecki lives here now.” He mocked you again. “Work in Vancouver though, so it’s a bit of a haul. I’m off right now, for the summer.”

“What are you, a teacher?” You rolled your eyes. “Of course you’re a teacher. you were so smart.” 

“I’m… an actor.” He gawked. “You haven’t seen my face plastered all over those teen magazines?”

“Can’t say I have. What are you acting in?” You leaned in toward him.

“I did Gilmore Girls a little while back. Now it’s a show called Supernatural. You remember that Latin class we took together? The one I swore wouldn’t ever help me in real life? Well the script sometimes has Latin in it and I’m the only one on set who can actually pronounce it.” He laughed, shaking his head.

“You’re still a dork.” You laughed, throwing your head back and slapping his arm again. 

“Hey, listen, that song you were singing…” He chewed his bottom lip. “You write that?”

“No, Jare. It’s a song on pop radio. Why? You like it?” You grinned.

“I like the way you sing it. The words are… nice. Accurate.” He mumbled the last part. “You wanna go back to my apartment? Catch up some more?” You swallowed the last of your drink and nodded boldly, standing and hooking your arm in Jared’s as you two headed for the door.

Ten years ago, you’d never have imagined running into Jared Padalecki, the giant nerd from your senior Latin class, at a bar in Austin. Ten years ago you also never imagined he’d be taking you home from said bar and making love to you more slowly and more gentle than any other man ever had. 

Ten years ago, Jared Padalecki had fallen in love with you, and the night you met again in that bar, he was determined to make up for all the lost time in between.

Forever Tags: @jpadjackles @abbirae99 @cyrilconnelly @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @sandlee44 @arctickristina @spontaneousam @smoothdogsgirl @aingealcethlenn @love-kittykat21 @plaid-lover-bay25 @randomthings077 @supernaturally-writing @myplaceofthingsilove @just-a-touch-of-crowley @thegreatficmaster @devilgirlsarah @spnstarships @elliewinchesterr @punkrxckrat @therewillbeblood @thewhisperingfox @jensen-jarpad @mamaredd123 @petrovadixon @enchantedcas @wheresthekillswitch @mogaruke @lynnebla  @youtubehelpsmesurvive @jayankles @highonpastries @impala-dreamer @delessapeace-blog @doro7winchester @riversong-sam @freakintasticfan @you-know-whodoesthat-crazypeople @percussiongirl2017 @ayeeitsemry @therosecolouredpost @atc74 @maddieburcham1 @sleepywinchester @shadowpriestess6 @xxdisappearwithoutatracexx @moosereid @sosolovely @jalove-wecallhimdean @castielhasthetardis @artherra @hexparker @essie1876 @alicat-life @myrabbitholetoneverland @likesiriusly @chainez-8 @becaamm @latenightsandlongnaps @moosesamdeancasbees @wayward-girl @taffycatluvr @lenaabs @perksasf @we-know-a-little-about-a-lot @iwantthedean @capsofwinchesters @the-supernatural-yogi @s4mmy5823 @ohgodjensen @dustycelt @giulasfangirlystuff @kaitlynmarie1120 @freedomcraziness @procratsinator @awkwarddoggo @evyiione @sammynughh @fangirl1802 @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @feelmyroarrrr @ofloveandlonging @pointlessbow @fandom-hoe101 @extreme-supernatural-lover @li-ssu @My-Favorite-Fiction67 @mizzzpink @damiansbeloved @80s-addict @distinguishedqueenofbooks @bradygabrielle-blog @sammysbeanie @pretttypadalecki @downtotheindividualtealeaf @casbabyangelface @winvhesters @whovianextrodinare @winchester-c @50shadesofyes @nevandariel @faegal04 @winchestersmut @hunterpuff @vodkaluh @hair-dresses @cas-is-my-hero @dalikah3 @bobbysingerismybaby @docharleythegeekqueen @benjerry707 @melissaj616 @lizmalfoywayland  @nanie5 @nothereforthisshit @emoryhemsworth @freefallinintofandoms-n-fiction @probably-alex-kandis @oneshoeshort @panimation @lovethefandomuniverse @samsgirly66 @be-amaziing @damnandriel-in-hell @uselessace @goldenolaf25 @courtney-elizabeth-winchester @almusanzug @cobrakai1967 

Jared Tags: @cleverdame @scxrchy @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @arryn-nyx @growningupgeek @i-just-wanna-live-gc  @ohmychuckitssamanddean  @boredoutofmymindstuff @tas898 @eccentricsammy @supernatural-jackles @a-screaming-ghost @melyssamariev @27bmm @nothin-after-79 @thecandylovingarchangelgabriel @thing-you-do-with-that-thing  @bambinovak @violinmyhead @keeshers94 @autopistaaningunaparte @bemyqueenofdarkness @brihughes4 @makaylahoran @avengedqueen26 @wicked-gen

04. Baby Talk (part two)

I decided to turn Baby Talk into a few parts. I’m not sure how many there will be, but I just know this story isn’t finished yet!

read part one here

warnings: fluff, smut, daddy!kink

You drummed your fingers nervously on the bathroom counter, your nails providing a rhythmic tick in the otherwise silent room. The two white sticks sat neatly side by side, perfectly parallel to the square stone sink. You lifted your arm up, checked your watch, whispered, “one more minute” under your breath, and went back to tapping your fingers.

You’d been trying for four months. Ever since that night Harry surprised with the confession that he wanted you two to have a baby of your own, you’d been having sex relentlessly since. Whether it was just before you went to bed, just as you woke up, or right as Harry came through the door and you found yourself half naked on the kitchen counter, you two had been trying. You hadn’t realized how truly bad you wanted to be a mom until it seemed like it was never going to happen.

Every month, just before you were set to get your period, you took two tests moments after you woke up like clockwork. And every month, like clockwork, they came out negative. You had told Harry that night that it would take a while, but even you didn’t believe the words that came out of your mouth in that moment.

Keep reading

(this was so hard to draw omfg excuse this poor quality)

When Hitler became chancellor in 1933, Ludwig and Gilbert’s father, who was a Nazi, knew of the goals of the Nazi party. One is the eradication of people they deemed invalid;

which means that Gilbert, being an albino, would also be included in the list of the “subhuman” 

His mother, having pity for her son, planned to send him to her sister’s in-laws in Austria (the Edelsteins). So they contacted some people to safely send him there in the middle of the night, and to never show his face ever again. Ludwig woke up due to the ruckus, and didn’t know why his brother was leaving him, but only prayed that he would come back the next day. 

(boarding school au!!) 

my wife, handing me our newly born child to hold for the first time: isn’t this just the most beautiful moment you’ve ever experienced?

me, thinking about the scene where baby jon snow transitions to adult jon snow: uh yeah its definitely up there

So this one time @infinite-atmosphere and some peeps were all “ABO CATDADS” and I was weak to their cries.

He had a rough night.  So to speak.  It’s not like Jack is ever much good at getting rest, and his heats aren’t much help, so Gabriel did his best to fuck his husband till he passed out.  He’s fairly pleased with himself that it worked.  He probably ought to be catching some sleep himself, but the lovely sight before him is all too rare, and he’s not about to waste it.  Or to let anyone or anything disturb his husband’s rest.  Gabriel strokes him softly, petting at the soft ears and hair and fluffy tail, running his hand down Jack’s shoulders and back and ass in slow, soothing caresses that let Jack know, somewhere in his subconscious, that he’s safe and looked after and doesn’t need to worry about anything.

Gabriel can’t deny that Jack’s heats are awkward, given their lifestyle.  He knows that if Jack had his way, he wouldn’t have them at all.  But he can’t help cherishing them anyway.  It’s a few times a year that the two of them get to spend together, free of distraction or duty, immersed in each other’s bodies and lives.  They fuck, they nap together, they eat together, they shower together, they talk.  Sometimes Gabriel thinks that if it weren’t for Jack’s heats, the constant enormous demands on them both would drag them further apart than they could make up for.

And he likes having every single bit of Jack all to himself.  If that’s selfish, he doesn’t care.  He wants Jack more than anything, always, and if Jack tried to claim he didn’t feel just the same, he’d be a lying asshole.

Last Night’s Terrifying #TwinPeaks Will Be Remembered as One of the Best Episodes of Television Ever

David Lynch offers an origin story for the evil that lurks underneath the surface BY COREY ATAD JUN 26, 2017

I awoke in the early morning to the sound of my own voice crying out, “no, no, no,” into the darkness. Paralyzed from fear and convinced the spectre of a personified evil hovered over me, I couldn’t escape. I turned my head to look at whatever it was and the face of BOB struck me. “No,” I cried out again, but just barely, my voice creaking as though I was suffocating in air. Again I tried to move but could not. And then it was over. Tears streamed down my face, and I was sweating, but the evil was gone. I looked over at my dog, who lifted his little head from slumber, stared at me confused for a moment and went right back to sleep.

In all my life, I can’t recall any work of art giving me nightmares. I’ve had them, of course—nightmares. I remember once when I was about 9 or 10, sick, and dreaming a giant machine climbing the stairs of my childhood home, coming for me, slamming with unbelievable force on each step until it reached landing. I remember when I was maybe 13 and I dreamt I’d been trapped inside a giant metal box full of gears and other mechanical contraptions grinding me into pieces while the sound of metal slamming against metal boomed from outside. Truthfully, it wasn’t just at 9 and 13. These dreams have followed me through my life, but neither came as a result of reading a book or watching a movie.

David Lynch has unearthed something—unlocked it. He’s devoted his entire career to exploring the roots of evil in men, in both the real world and the unreal. His films are often terrifying. Twin Peaks has been terrifying. Still, I’ve never witnessed anything quite like what Lynch gave us in “Part 8” of The Return.

An easy reading of “Part 8” is that Twin Peaks has finally given us its origin story: the beginnings of evil; the creation of BOB; the nuclear cause of mankind’s suffering.

Were it so simple, Lynch wouldn’t need to enter so surreal a space in order to tell it. In fact, he’d have undercut his own ideas in the process—something I might charge Terrence Malick with doing in his similarly Brakhage-y sequence of creation in The Tree of Life. Rather than simplify by abstraction, Lynch’s abstracted vision of creation has no beginning or end, no clear cause and effect. Images of the bomb set to Krzysztof Penderecki’s “Therondy to the Victims of Hiroshima” cannot within themselves contain the root of anything. It is a point in history. One of many, though more singularly catastrophic than most.


Rather, what Lynch shows us is a confluence. The evil that men do is at once spiritual and technological, and in the melding of the two emerges a rift allowing the forces of one to infect the other. The creation—or the seeding?—of BOB occurs in a fit of light and shadow and color, in a convenience store, in space, but not outer space, some other space, flung at us in the burning storm of an atomic explosion. “Fire walk with me.”

From its long drive through the night, to its cascade of blotches and sparkles and flames, to its flickering store lights, to its silent expressionism, to its 1950s utopian hellscape of crushed skulls, cigarette-toting vagrants, and bug-frogs, “Part 8” brought to television screens a work of art that escapes narrative confines. Where other shows—and films, too—have used the weird and surreal as window dressing for straightforward storytelling, The Return brings the true avant-garde to bear on a story where clarity is beside the point, and perhaps impossible.

David Lynch, ever-obsessed with reproducing and tearing apart a 1950s Americana aesthetic, sets a firm marker on the degradation of the American spirit. July 16, 1945, 5:29 am (MWT). The cracking open of the quiet New Mexico desert haunts the American dreamscape. Technological prowess turned into destruction, poisoning the world, the result of poisoned souls. An alien-like creature—a mother—spews eggs from her mouth toward the screen. Evil multiplied, genetically conceived, technologically disseminated, rotting the very core of the species and infecting any semblance of innocence.

In the ninth episode of Twin Peaks Season Two, after Leland Palmer is killed, Albert says BOB is simply “the evil that men do.” There is no distance, in the end between Leland and BOB. Their reign of terror is shared, inextricably. BOB was molesting Laura for years in the form of Leland. At the same time, through Laura’s eyes it was always Leland in BOB’s form. Both are true. The reality of suffering is circular, feeding on itself, inevitable.

It’s strange then to ponder those two kids in 1956, a budding relationship forming. They may be the future Leland and Sarah Palmer. The ages seem to fit. But whether meaningful or not, the point is apart from any narrative cohesion. The image of these children is Lynch’s imagined American innocence. That innocence is not a lie. It’s real. It’s clear. But it’s only one facet, and it cannot exist without its opposite. In one spectacular hour of television, Lynch brings together his entire body of work from Eraserhead to Inland Empire—and even a crazy cigarette ad—into one nightmarish vision of innocence inevitably corrupted, without conceivable explanation. “The horse is the white of the eyes, and dark within.”

Link (TP)

harry, ron and hermione have been there for me when no one else was. this series gave me the strength to keep going when i just wanted to give up, inspired me to write my first ever fanfic, and showed me how stories have the power to change the world. thank you, harry potter, for the years of all night binges to read the new book before going to school so i wouldn’t be spoiled, thank you for giving me somewhere to go whenever i needed hope, thank you for creating magic both imagined and real. my love for these books hasn’t diminished in the years since i first read them, and i know that i’m going to keep coming back to them, until the very end.

First Time’s the Charm

Title: First Time’s the Charm

Characters: Ike Evans x You/Reader

Synopsis: Ike finally gives in to the idea of hiring a high-class escort to keep him company for a night.

Warnings: NSFW, smut, slight daddy kink

Note: Huge thanks to @a-girl-interupted for giving me this idea! Also, this will have one or two more parts because I can’t get enough of how daddy Ike is. Can I get an amen???

Ever since Molly succumbed to cancer, Ike made it a point to focus on their children and his work. It’s been years since her passing and he’s never dated a single woman. Hell, he’s never looked at another woman. It’s not that he wasn’t interested in finding love again, but losing his wife was something that he was sure he wouldn’t be able to get over.

“That’s because you haven’t met the right one yet.” Victor said, turning his bar stool towards Ike who merely chuckled.

“Molly was the right one, I believe she still is.” he defended and took a quick swig from his whiskey.

Keep reading

It makes me wonder

Not to sound shallow or anything

You know about popular tumblrs, right? Like the one blog that everyone likes, whether it be the blogger themselves or the content they post

But, do you ever consider if people think that YOU belong in that category?

Like, someone goes on your blog and they go nuts over the stuff you post. And they follow you in hopes that you’ll follow them back

Now, don’t get me wrong; I do not consider myself popular. Far from it, tbh. I’m literally just an average potato bean who couldn’t really care less about having a following of any kind

But, once you start thinking about stuff like this, it’s a bit odd, don’t you think?

Just think about it: You’re just going about your merry way on tumblr, reblogging stuff and engaging in delightful banter with others, and there’s *someone* that loves everything that you bring to the table. Think of yourself as the Senpai that the one person wants to be noticed by.

Weird, isn’t it? At least to me it is.

It’s easy to consider yourself in that person’s perspective, but I think once you think of yourself as the more “popular” person, then it kinda makes you think about the type of influence you have on others

I mean, I look at some of you guys and think to myself, “OMG YOU’RE FOLLOWING ME?! WE’RE ACTUALLY MUTUALS?! WHAT IS THIS MADNESS?!” (It actually happened today, believe or not 😂😂)

But, thinking about it in the opposite perspective (if that makes sense) gives you something a bit more substantial, for lack of a better word, to think about

Idk, that’s just me

rex501st  asked:

Did you see the news about the next WW arc following Shea Fontana's run? I'm just like *head desk*

UGH. YUCK. What @rex501st​ is referring to is the announcement for an upcoming arc of Wonder Woman, with the following press release:

Spinning out of the pages of DC UNIVERSE: REBIRTH and JUSTICE LEAGUE: DARKSEID WAR, Robinson, [Carlo] Pagulayan and [Emanuela] Lupacchino will answer one of the biggest questions of the year: Who is Wonder Woman’s brother? Taken away from Themyscira in the dead of night, the mysterious Jason (the only male ever born on the island) has been hidden somewhere far from the sight of gods and men…but his life and Wonder Woman’s are about to intersect in a terrifying way, bringing them face-to-face with a cosmic threat they never imagined.

… In case any of you need a refresher, Darkseid War (Justice League #50) ended with an Amazon named Myrina revealing to Diana that she witnessed Hippolyta giving birth and that she saw that Diana in fact has a twin brother somewhere. Don’t believe that this BS actually exists?

AHAHAHAHAAHAAAAA. Oh, it happened. It wasn’t enough to revise Diana’s origin so fundamentally by giving her a BIOLOGICAL FATHER, they had to give her a TWIN BROTHER TOO. These are things that make Wonder Woman more relatable to men, folks (you see, men need more representation, natch). 

Okay, but right after this issue Wonder Woman: Rebirth rolled around and we found out that Diana’s memories of Themyscira were all a lie… I mean, we think. We’re very confused. Anyway, if they’re lies, this Jason thing basically never happened. And it was honestly totally forgotten until the announcement of this new WW arc. Please trust me, DC Comics, this is hardly “one of the biggest questions of the year.” It’s hardly a question. No one except for Geoff Johns cares, and he only cares because he created this issue (badum tisssss).

So here’s how I feel:

  • Real talk: I have no objections to the creative team. Would it be lovely to have a woman write Wonder Woman? Of course! But this creative team is nothing to scoff at (um, HYST, are you forgetting Earth 2?). OKAY FINE, if all else fails, we’ll get some beautiful art out of this whole situation.
  • My real anger stems from the fact that no matter how hard we try DC will not let us leave this Zeus God-Sperm origin behind. Look at that panel with Hippolyta giving birth? That’s preposterous. That’s blasphemous. THAT IS NOT, AND HAS NEVER BEEN, WONDER WOMAN. Why can’t we just leave this behind? Because this panel apparently makes Wonder Woman more relatable to men!
  • Setting snark aside for like a minute, look at that panel of Hippolyta giving birth. This Hippolyta is blonde. *Real* Rebirth!Hippolyta has black hair. What if this Jason character isn’t actually Diana’s twin brother but some Phobos/Deimos creation meant to take down Wonder Woman? What if things aren’t as bad as we *think* they are?

I mean, they probably are, but I naturally have more optimism than I know what to do with. Thanks for the question, and let’s hope for the best!

baku-squad  asked:

For the kissing meme, 4 with bakushima :)

Kissing fic meme

Forehead kiss

Another night spent staring blankly at the wall of his room knowing just on the other side Bakugou was either there or not, fear swelling up in his heart making it hard for him to find any room to breath. With shaky hands he reached toward the wall placing his plams against it feeling a cold sweat spring to life on his skin.

Bakugou had to still be there, there was just no way in hell he would ever let anyone take Bakugou from him again. Closing his eyes tightly he shook off the horrible thoughts that ran through his head like a dog off its leash.

Wuth his shaky hands he quickly knocked on the wall hard enough that he knew would have the blonde waking from his peaceful sleep to either yell at him to go back to bed or come over and check on him.

He waits silently wishing that the blonde would come over, his heart aching in his chest till he heard movement from the other room, foot steps quietly making their way across the room making Kirishima’s heart race in his chest.

There’s a knock at his door and it slowly comes open, sitting up a little he waits till Bakugou’s poking his head into the room squinting at the other looking more tired than annoyed. Maybe he hadn’t been sleeping well either? He shakes off the thought and waves for Bakugou to come over.

He’s slow to cross the room but when he does he climbs right into the bed with him, his arms wrapped tight around his friend in hopes of helping him calm down not wanting him to suddenly go into a panic attack that would make things more difficult for the both of them. Bakugou still wasn’t sure how to handle those times.

He’s tired but the shaking of Kirishima’s arms has him lifting his friends head, brushing the hair from his forehead, and pressing a gentle kiss to his head that has Kirishima’s shaking coming to a stop and easing into the comfort of his hold. Neither of them needing any words to express their feelings, the silence is comforting and has the two of them trying to get closer to one another.


thoughts of academy,, if i’ll make it
sleepless nights vaccinated with vile
feeling sober w/ a hint of a mental mind fuck,
such a waste that no one ever reads ,,
focus on the words when you’re on the tube
things are clear to to see ,,
i hope you find your clarity

anonymous asked:

My fav harry tweets are 1. Beach don't kill my vibe 2. The winding wheel tweets 3. The sun is the same in a relative way but your older 4. Last night was the best thing I've ever done

“last night was the best thing i’ve ever done” STOPPPPPP i know what you’re trying to do.  HOWEVER.  I, for one am SUPER excited to see him play at MSG!!!  It’s going to be……….amazing.

Also, I do love this tweet quite a bit

Love you. H 💜

LA Devotee: A Dean Winchester Imagine

So this is based on LA Devotee by Panic! At the Disco. I’ll probably do a Cas one based on one of their songs as well, as I’ve done a Sam one. Hope you guys like it, and enjoy x 

You got two black eyes from loving too hard
And a black car that matches your blackest soul
I wouldn’t change ya, oh
Wouldn’t ever try to make you leave, no

When Dean Winchester showed up at your door, it wasn’t exactly a welcome surprise. 

You were taken aback, not quite believing that it was him. Him with his green eyes, those intoxicating pools of emerald that you found yourself getting lost in more often than not, ones that reminded you of nights you had spent together in the back of that ‘67 Chevy Impala, one you noticed that was parked behind him. 

”Hi Sweetheart.”

The pet name tickled at your senses, goosebumps rising along your skin, the way they would whenever he touched you with those calloused hands. 

”Why are you here?”

He’d been gone for a couple of years. Left with his younger brother. 

Family business, he’d said, right before he kissed you goodbye.

Oh, the neon coast was your sign
And the Midwest wind with Pisces rising
I wouldn’t change ya, oh
Wouldn’t ever try to make you leave, no

You used to drive everywhere with him, stopping at random motels for nights better spent behind closed doors. 

Dean tugged you along, his fingers laced with yours, heading towards the room you had booked.  

Laughter filled the corridors as you were pulled into the room by the man you loved, you then smiled as you kicked the door shut behind you. 

“So what do you wanna do now Y/N?” he asked, hands on either side of your head, trapping you against that dusty old door. 

“I have a few ideas.”

Your hands became tangled in his hair, gripping the peaks of it as he kissed you, fires burning in your stomach. 

Heat spread to every fiber of your being as Dean’s tongue danced with yours, his hands moving under your thighs and picking you up. 

Laughter graced the room again as you landed on the bed, Dean crawling over you with predatory lust in those iridescent eyes. You grabbed hold of his shirt pulling his face to yours. 

“I love you.”

“I know.”

Static palms melt your vibe
Midnight whisperings

Your relationship with Dean was so much more than sex. Of course, the sex was great. But there were also the little moments, ones that seemed so much more intimate than anything else. 

“What are you thinking about?

Dean’s hand stroked your hair, your head placed against his chest. 

“Your tattoo.”

He kissed the top of your head, a small token of his affection that earned you nuzzling your nose into his skin. 

“What about it?”

“What does it mean?”

He had never told you what the black ink meant. You had traced, kissed, worshiped it so many times, but you had never understood it. You found it to be beautiful and mysterious, just like the man you shared your bed with. 

Dean’s hand moved from stroking your hair to your arm, leaving those familiar goosebumps in his wake. 

“It’s a family thing.”

Everything was a family thing. 

The black magic of Mulholland Drive
Swimming pools under desert skies
Drinking white wine in the blushing light
Just another LA Devotee

There were times you wished for a classier life. Driving across the country in an old car wasn’t exactly what you had imagined when you left college. 

Then again, you hadn’t imagined spending nights in the arms of a man like Dean Winchester. 

You had told him this, and one night he had decided to surprise you.

Dress up nice, Sweetheart, he’d said.

It had been a night under the stars, one with wine and music. 

And then came the phone call. 

You sat there, watching the emotions across Dean’s face change continuously, a frown settling when he finally hung up. 

That’s when you knew. You knew that this was over.

Sunsets on the evil eye
Invisible to the Hollywood shrine
Always on the hunt for a little more time
Just another LA Devotee

And now here he was, at your door.

“Why are you here?”

“I needed to see you.”

He looked at you, his eyes raking up and down your body, before matching your own. His eyes, they always got to you. 

“I suppose you’d better come in then.”

He followed you, closing the door behind him, as you mentally prepared yourself for the conversation you were about to have. 

You didn’t see those pools of emerald turn to black.

How Imām Al-Shāfi’ī Spent his Nights

Al-Rabī’ b. Sulaymān reports:

Al-Shāfi’ī used to divide the night into three parts, he would:

  1. Write (knowledge) for the first third
  2. Pray during the second third
  3. Sleep during the last third

It is reported from Husayn Al-Karābīsī that he said:

“I spent the night with Al-Shāfi’ī. He would pray for about a third of the night. I hardly ever saw him recite more than fifty verses (in the prayer), one hundred at most. Whenever he came to a verse about mercy, he would ask Allāh for His Mercy, for himself and for the believers; and whenever he came to a verse about punishment, he would seek Allāh’s refuge from it, and ask salvation for himself and for all the believers. So it is as if both hope and fear were brought together for him.”

— Al-Bayhaqī, Ma’rifatu Al-Sunan (362, 365)


Lead, Kindly Light

Lead kindly Light amidst the grey and gloom
The night is long and I am far from home
Here in the dark I do not ask to see
The path ahead one step enough for me
Lead on lead on kindly Light

I was not ever willing to be led
I could have stayed but I ran instead
In spite of fear I followed my pride
My eyes could see but my heart was blind
Lead on lead on kindly Light

And in the night when I was afraid
Your feet beside my own on the way
Each stumbling step where other men have trod
Shortens the road leading home to my God

Lead on lead on
My God my God
Lead on lead on kindly Light

I’m gonna be honest. The three-pronged shape of the fidget spinner really scares me deeply. This specific shape of three circles has been following me around since I had a nightmare about it as a small child and I remember later on having a light above the bed in my room that I would stare up at every night and it was three circles. I feel sick when I look at it! It’s this fear I can’t describe but it’s deep. If I were to ever buy a fidget spinner, it would have to be one that looks different to the three-prong.

anonymous asked:

What are your top five favorite fics by @ouat2011?

This took a bit a work because I could read Katie’s stories over and over again and never get tired of them. They are always emotional. She is always wrecking some sort of havoc inside my heart. I think there’s only one that hasn’t made me tear up at some point. You’ll see. I couldn’t come up with a top 5. I have a top 2 and then a tied for third which I can’t put in order. So here it goes.

1) Girl Meets the Return of Game Night- No lie- the first Rucas FanFic I ever read. I got sucked into fanfiction reading Joshaya, first a single chapter post of Holly’s on Tumblr and then Nan’s. Katie was on both of their fanfiction following/recommended lists. I picked this one shot because well, a one shot isn’t a big commitment to something you’re not sure you’re really going to like. Ha! Not like Rucas fanfiction, silly me. I used to be so naive. I’m so glad I read this one. It made me laugh out loud and want to read more Rucas. It got me hooked. I’ve since learned that fluffy Rucas is so not Katie’s thing. I think that’s why this one always sticks out so vividly in my mind.

2) Serendipity- What can I say about Serendipity that you haven’t heard 100 times from me already? I sooo love this world where Lucas and Riley don’t meet until much later on and they both have so much baggage they cart along behind themselves. And Katie, you know Chapter 10 is my go to “I need to feel chapter“ when they are Romeo and Juliet on stage giving into their own unspoken neeeeed for the first time. “You kiss by the book.” Indeed. Three more words. Pappy. Joe’s. Truck. OK. I sound like a crazy person. You should count Amaranthine/Elysian here too. I love, love, love this world.

Here are my next 4. Yes, 4, I told you I couldn’t do a 5. So in alphabetical order because it felt unfair to rank them:

21- The premise of Farkle never figuring out that Riley was lying in Texas and therefore never blew Gabriel’s Horn of Truth at midnight on NYE grabbed me from the beginning. There is no doubt in my mind that Riley would have carried that secret to her grave with her if no one eventually figured it out. And poor Lucas, always waiting on Riley and following her lead where their personal relationship was concerned would never move himself out of that brother box unless she told him otherwise. ANGST CITY BABY! Loved it. And those steamy scenes outside the nightclub at the Bellagio…oh my!

Crash Course- Again an angsty one and much quicker paced. I laugh out loud now thinking about Lucas hiding under the bed and get teary eyed knowing he wore her engagement ring around his neck when they were apart.

Ghost in the Wind- ANGST. SO MUCH ANGST. I cried in public reading it. And then read it again anyway. And cried again. IN PUBLIC. If she ever writes the sequel I’ll die some more and cry for days after I read it.

Versace on the Floor- Brilliant. The whole entire thing with ONE line of dialogue. 4 words and he spoke them in his sleep. I can’t even talk about it.

Thank you, Nony for the ask!!!!

You’re killing me, slowly but surely you’re dragging me down with you. I think of you every minute of every hour of every day and worrying that you’ll end up hurting yourself or something far worse is killing me more than that train you want to jump under ever could.

I’m worried every time you leave your house, every time you don’t answer my messages, every time I can’t check on you.

You say no one cares, you say no one would notice if you disappeared. You say you want help get you push me away as if you don’t care at all whether or not you leave for good.

But do you ever think of me? Do you ever think of the person who cries her eyes out at night and doesn’t sleep just so I could talk you out of it, just so I could tell you how much you mean to me?

I know I’m selfish and irrational but I want to keep you by my side, I want to at least hold you once before you undoubtedly disappear from this Earth.

And yet all I can do is try to reach you through this very screen.

All I can do is pray to every God, if there is any, that you will respond, that you’ll stay alive.

All I can do is say I love you, over and over again until it’ll be the last thing to echo in your head as you look and the train tracks and hopefully turn back.

And hopefully become mine for our own eternity.