not proud of these ones at all


Tianshan Week Day 5 One Day. I named it after the song I listened to. “All is violent, all is bright”.

Sorry for missing out yesterday but I put all my feelings and effort into this one. This instrumental inspired me for the scenery.

I feel like He Tian would dress like a total pimp later while Guanshan stays with his bomber jackets or warm winter jackets (bought by He Tian and the devil personified refuses to take anything for it in return *cough* Maybe Momo’s soul, but that’s a different story *laughs*)

Falling for John

For @yorkiepug I hope you like it. Thanks to my muse, @musing-out-loud who stayed up texting with me until 1am listening to my crazy ranting about Sherlock, John and their crazy wizard adventures.

Warnings: potterlock, explicit sex between consenting adult men, lots of bad jokes and so much fluff and sweetness reading this will literally make your teeth hurt. 

Keep reading

I haven’t really talked about this a lot because I’ve been distracted BUT I’ve now been to two meetings with other young trans people and it has been SO refreshing like. After the whole situation with the T and the Gender Lady I’ve been so frustrated and I felt like everything had just Paused and stopped working, but now I feel like I got a boost like!! I’m ready to move on and become a better version of myself & all that. It’s good and I’m very glad

Keys to My Heart

Hello my darlings!! I am so, so proud, and excited (and nervous) to finally share this with you all!! It is based on a post by @immortal-awesomeness. I am just in love with the idea of Cassian being any sort of musician, be it a singer, piano player, drummer ( @fuckyeahazriel ). So this one just called to me as soon as I read it. I hope you all enjoy! @propshophannah , This is it!! Tell me what you think!


The Commander wandered the halls of the House of Wind aimlessly. He wandered without a specific purpose in mind, seeing as he was alone, he found it quite restful. His heavy footsteps echoed in the halls as his introspective thoughts echoed through his mind. He was immensely grateful that the War was over and that he and his companions would hopefully get the peace they so deserved. Centuries ago, had he been asked what he sought most in life he would have answered the opposite. He had longed for the adventure and prestige of battle, but now he had nothing to prove. He had experienced the zeal of war, more than once and all the horrors that came with it. Now his heart desired quiet rest and security.

He felt drawn toward one of the many hallways winding through the back of the house. He followed the whims and whispers in the back of his conscious which called him to a door at the end of one. Upon opening the door he paused, standing in surprise at the image before him. The room itself, nothing exceptional, the balcony glowing with golden sunlight, and yet completely in the dark about the treasure it held. A piano, his piano. His feet lead him forward to the instrument he hadn’t seen or thought of in years, stopping just in front of the bench. With a hand he was surprised wasn’t shaking, he brushed the smooth lid.

Memories washed over him, fast and sudden as waves on the shore, they rushed in. A winter day in the Illyrian steppes, they tended to be blustery; far too cold for a growing boy with ill-fitting, threadbare clothes. But through the streets he walked, wings tucked in against the cold. A crowd wandered the streets, going about their own business, not noticing the young boy in their midst. A melody, carrying faintly through the open door of a building on the right. He followed it, having heard nothing like it before. A woman, she sat playing. Her hands, dancing across the instrument in fascinating manner. A question, he had asked, and she had answered. And the many, countless hours he spent learning from her. His near daily visits, the stretches of time wherein he just sat and stared in wonder as she played. And the times when she worked and listened to his experiments. A bleak, day when he returned and the woman was there no more. But the instrument remained. A promise, an escape. A single tear he never felt slip down his cheek.

A new tear, sliding down his face as his palm rested against the wood. His smile, of appreciation, for all she gave him in those lessons. She had taught him, given him, so much more than just music. She gave him an escape from the harsh world of Illyrian training camps. She taught him that the world is not all bleak and plain, there was life and adventure to be experienced in music. But it could also provide peace, healing and rest, things which he so desperately needed at the time. Those gifts had been long forgotten, but now, after the War, he found he longed for them again, that calm, that security.

He felt for the handle and lifted the lid. The keys still shown a soft ivory, and seemed to glow with rejuvenation in the sun. The worn warrior pulled out the bench and sat with a pause, staring in reverence at the instrument before him. Trembling fingers rested upon pristine keys, the hard-earned scars standing in contrast to their perfection. He felt as if he were greeting an old friend, nothing had changed. And yet everything had. He imagined the face of it’s former owner and smiled, thinking of the new woman he had met. To his surprise, he found that she reminded him of his teacher in many ways. He tentatively played a single note and smiled. It sounded exactly as he recalled. His fingers slowly trailed up a whole scale as he tried to summon a song from the depths of his memories. Finally as the last note rang out the General turned, adjusted his wings, set his feet to the pedals and began to play.

It was flawed initially. He bumbled the chords, or blended notes that didn’t belong together. His hands paused more than once, contemplating whether or not he should continue. He did. Slowly he remembered where his hands belonged and which pedal did what, how to make the notes mingle and flow. He didn’t know when, but the songs began to flow from his fingers and the piano. As soon as it started, it was over. He swore the notes rang off the balcony and through the halls. Somewhere behind him, a presence that had not been there before moved closer.

“Cassian…” Nesta started and seemed unable to continue.

“It’s been years- Since I played. I didn’t take real lessons, she never required payment,” he scoffed. “I never even learned her name. I just, happened to be wandering by one day… This was hers.” He paused as emotion and pride choked his throat.

He felt her sit down next to him, careful of the wings, and stroke his shoulder, “Cassian, I was going to tell you it was beautiful.” There was a slight pause before she said, “I picked up violin when I was mortal. Did I ever tell you that?” He shook his head, although it didn’t surprise him. “Can you play for me some more,” she requested. He glanced over at her, the walking epitome of contradiction; so attentive and reckless, aggressive and level-headed, beautiful and dangerous all at once. And in that moment he thought back to a conversation he had had with Rhysand shortly after a visit to the Summer Court. Rhys had mentions that Feyre told Tarquin he would be ‘easy to love.’ Cassian thought Nesta was easy to love, very easy. She accepted every little piece and part of him, and expected nothing less. And he was so lucky, such a lucky bastard to have her as his mate. Regardless of whether or not they chose to act upon the mating bond, it had very little to do with how he felt about her. Nesta Archeron was his perfect fit. So even though that was the only song he remembered, but he found himself nodding. He imagined the time he spent in his teacher’s home, free handing for hours. Recalling how he just let his feelings from the day guide his music.

He decided to do the same now. The melody came out soft and haunting. Slowly and smoothly, carrying straight from his heart. The notes were as words he had not yet found the courage to say. Everything he wanted to tell her, how thankful he was for how she had helped him heal, to even know her was an honor. And his complete happiness, at being her mate. He threw all of it into the song he played for her, immediately committing it to memory. The notes and chords crescendoed and quieted, danced and meandered from his fingertips, created a storm of melody and harmony. His soul, which he thought had long since been silenced, throbbed and thrived with music, pure and unadulterated. Eventually he reached the end of the music, letting the last note ring. It hung between them, the air holding it, waiting for a response. He took his first breath since beginning the song, and what’s more, the first breath that had felt easy to take in a very long time. Bracing himself, Cassian turned to the woman next to him and she met his stare. Steel blue and warm hazel. She still hadn’t said a word.

“What was that,” she asked.

He answered baldly, “I wrote it for you. For us. W- Did you like it?” He’d never felt more exposed in his whole life. He’d say vulnerable in the same room as her with his wings in shreds, his pride ruined. And still, this felt more real, more raw than anything he’d told her. This was a piece of himself buried so long, he hadn’t even remembered it. She was the only one who knew this part of him now and as she looked down at their hands which she readily entwined, he braced himself for the worst. That she wouldn’t want it, that she would reject him, or not understand.

But she did. Oh, Cauldron she did. “Cassian, that was…. perfect.”

His eyes flew back to hers, which he found misty. His own overwhelming emotions filled his as he reached for her. Just in time to catch a single tear as his thumb left a feather-light touch over her cheekbone. She smiled and leaned in to close the gap between them. Her lips met his in a sweet symphony. He thought he felt his heart swell with music again as she kissed him. Her free hand ran up and through his hair, stopping at the back of his neck to gently pull him closer. He couldn’t help the smile that spread on his lips, against hers. She must have felt the change because he soon felt the corners of her lips curl upwards. The kiss, so soft, but just like the song, carrying the promise of so much more. Hope for things to come, the chance at happiness, the promise of a life together. And Mother help him, Cassian had never been happier in his whole life.

anonymous asked:

for your consideration: poem "The Man to the Angel" by George William Russell (1867–1935). I just encountered this in a book from 1913 that is crumbling in my hands and stopped short as my brain crumbled from destiel. wanted u to know

Well, thanks for that! I found it online. Anyone need a good brain crumbling?

The Man to the Angel

George William Russell (1867–1935)

I HAVE wept a million tears.
Pure and proud one, where are thine?
What the gain, though all thy years
In unbroken beauty shine?

All your beauty cannot win        5
Truth we learn in pain and sighs:
You can never enter in
To the Circle of the Wise.

They are but the slaves of light
Who have never known the gloom,        10
And between the dark and bright
Willed in freedom their own doom.

Think not in your pureness there
That our pain but follows sin:
There are fires for those who dare        15
Seek the throne of might to win.

Pure one, from your pride refrain:
Dark and lost amid the strife,
I am myriad years of pain
Nearer to the fount of life.        20

When defiance fierce is thrown
At the god to whom you bow,
Rest the lips of the Unknown
Tenderest upon my brow.

serotonin-and-false-smiles  asked:

Is it bad that as a proud slytherin girl my hHufflepuff and Ravenclaw friends have now gained slytherin tendencies? I mean it's helped my little Puffy be more confident and stand up for herself and my pretty Raven to be more critical in her thinking. Sometimes I feel like a bad influence, but I've helped them get rid of toxic people in their lives. Just wanting to be a good friend after all we've been through together.

That is actually one of the greatest things ever I think there is a lot we can learn from people in other houses.


…just so overwhelming.

The Solo stages. The New choreography. The Set list. The Production. The Ments. All the hidden Messages.

I love Bangtan so much. Everything they say and do is with purpose….& this concert was just on a completely different level. I…can’t.

I AM AN ARMY; A proud BTS stan…and I will continue to be their wings.
Bangtan Bangtan! BangBangtan!

big ass offense, im so proud of everyone here (mutuals and nonmutuals) because despite every single bad thing happening in ur lives, you’re here - alive and just by being alive ur showing me (and most importantly yourself) that you’re all such strong beings who deal with all sorts of issues and yea sometimes u fail but at least you’re out there trying and you will try harder next time and im so happy to be here with you cause ur all so, so wonderful n just by existing, u have a meaning. u all mean something and i hope one day you will all realize that

anonymous asked:

Fanboys just make me angry and sad. My brother is one of them and he hates TFA with a passion, almost like he feels personally offended by it (he's an R1 and ESB fan). I LOVE TFA and he uses that against me to accuse me of having really bad taste in movies and not being a 'real' Star Wars fan. It just really gets me down because I can't even to explain to him why I love it in the first place, he just ends up talking over me like its only his opinion that matters.

Oh no! I’m sorry to hear that. That must be very frustrating and upsetting. I obviously can’t exactly intervene, but I will say this - be proud of your taste in media and don’t let anyone else tell you that your less of anything because you happen to like a movie that they don’t like. I personally think The Force Awakens is a far better film than Rogue One on almost all counts, but I would never use that opinion to say that people who prefer Rogue One are wrong. (And, incidentally, we have the weight of critical opinion to back us up on The Force Awakens being better - you can’t dispute Metacritic scores!)

anonymous asked:

I don't understand why we can't just support the girls 100%. Everybody always gotta critique and shit. Our girls did one hell of a job tonight. All we need to do is be proud, is that too much to ask?


salvachester  asked:

guess who watched Passion the other day and was a giggling mess when Angelus and Joyce met? :D

hahahahahaha OMG!!! I’m so proud I’ve had such a positive impact on your Buffy watching experience!!!

It’s one of those things you can’t unsee once you see it, right? 

There is so much respect for Seán. I love the videos where he’s just being serious and just sits down & talks to us about important things. And he’s right, he doesn’t have to fully agree with his friends all the time. Everyone has their own opinion on many different things. And the fact that, he just sat down and stated his own opinion on things that are happening right now, makes me so proud of him. One of the reasons why I love & appreciate Seán so much is how truthful and genuine he is towards his friends, family, and fans. He’s not afraid to speak/voice his opinion on important things!

anonymous asked:

Gabi, do you also think Harry isn't free either? I mean the complete SM silence, he is so low key since months now, almost no pap pics, nothing also the constant rumors no one is addressing...he didn't even tweet the DUNKIRK link etc. There seem to be restrictions here, big ones cause it doesn't add up at all. He was always the first to make sure we know how thankful he is, who is also a hard worker and deffo proud of things like Dunkirk / AMM. Feels not organic & I hope all is well !

I don’t think a person is free (besides the obvious) when after four years there’s still solo rumors of him and he still can’t deny it. Especially when the existence and the presentation of said rumor is ruining the ot4 relationships and separate him more than ever.

Something I had to remind myself of today: Mistakes do not equal failure. Yes, I forgot to draw Alphys’s tail, and I even posted the picture for all of my friends on Tumblr to see! I was kind of embarrassed, and I immediately went to fix it. I was going to take down the other picture, but as I was fixing it, I decided, no. I’m leaving the first one up. Not because I’m proud of making mistakes, but to remind me that the point of making mistakes is to learn, and also that it’s okay to make mistakes. I’m somewhat of a shy person when it comes to art. I told myself that I was going to start posting things on Tumblr so that I could build up my confidence. Taking down the first version of this drawing where I messed up would just lower my confidence.  I need to be proud of the fact that I have made it to the point where I’m comfortable with other people seeing my art.

So, moral of the story kids is that you don’t fail because you messed up. (Wow this is my second “moral of the story” post in two days does that say something?)

I had to say goodbye to my dearest @the–great-catsby last night as she continues her journey in life. She’s moving to Thailand for the next year before settling in Australia for grad school. I am beyond proud of her for all of her accomplishments, and she deserves every bit of it. 

Little one: I love you endlessly. You are so bright and warm and funny. I am truly blessed to know you and call you my friend. Thank you for every laugh, every hug, every Tom Petty session. You are one of a kind. I will miss you filling the pockets of my clothing and purses with rocks, because you always need them. I will miss hearing your giggle in the morning. The kittens will miss your snuggles and unconditional love. I will miss drinking champagne with you for no reason at all. Mostly I’ll just miss the way you’re always here for me to cheer me on and wipe my tears away. I know you’re only going halfway across the world and that I just need to pick up the phone, but that feels so far away in this moment. Just know that I love you with my entire being. This friendship is for life.