please listen to it i've worked on this for far too long

anonymous asked:

What do you do when art block hits you?


So I’m going to preface this with this is how I combat my own lack of motivation. People are different than me. What works for me might not work for you. Sorry it got lengthy. I guess I had a lot to say about it. For that reason I’m putting it under a cut.
Also because I wanted to draw froggits.

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briellasophia  asked:

hello there you wonderful human beings, i was wondering if y'all could please update the angst tag bc lately i've been in need of a good cry, idk why i like to torture myself like this lol.. much thanks in advance xox

angst is so much fun to read

Old Houses by words_reign_here (20/20 | 66,893 | NC17)

Written from a prompt I found on tumblr you can find here.

Basically, a 21 Jump Street meets Teen Wolf meets shadowy government agency.

Come Back by hazelNuts (1/1 | 2,577 | G)

Anonymous said: “I hope you might consider writing one for me please using this prompt. Everyone in the pack made fun of how sad and desperate Stiles seemed every time Derek was away for more then a few days even Derek joined in the slightly hurtful teasing. So Stiles decide to teach them all a lesson by going to stay with his aunt for two weeks. After a week Derek and the pack turned up at his aunts and nobody made fun of him again. Thank you”

Stiles always thought that confessing his feelings to Derek would change everything, it’s why he’s put it off for so long. Two days ago, it had slipped out. It wasn’t how he’d imagined it would go down, there were far fewer roses, and far more monster guts lying around. But nothing’s changed with Derek, he continues to treat Stiles the same as before, with serene amusement.

Emissary by dragon_temeraire (1/1 | 3,771 | PG13)

To keep the peace, Stiles agrees to be emissary to the Hale pack.

The Lover, But Not His Love by midnightcas (1/1 | 2,461 | NR)

After getting in the way of a demon, Derek is banished to hell. He returns months later, but he’s not alone.
After an entire two months in Hell with the boy, he had grown accustomed to him.
His ever fidgeting body, his endless questions, his streak of humor, his long winded ramblings, his clever mind, his broken ways.

“So,” Allison said slowly, “you’re back.”
He nodded, not too sure what to say after the long explanation he had just given.
“And…” Scott led on.
Before Derek could repeat himself, Lydia spoke, “You brought a creature back from Hell with you.”
“Hey!” the boy cried indignantly, “Derek, who are these people?”
“They’re my pack.”
“Well your pack’s a bunch of psychos. I’m not Hellboy.”

We’re Born to Return to Home by LiviKate (1/1 | 2,201 | NR)

Derek slumped to the ground, bleeding like a glacier, slowly loosing parts of himself. The pack was safe. Scott would keep them safe.

He closed his eyes and smiled a little, listening to his body trying to knit itself together too slowly to stop all the falling apart it was doing. The pain in his side was hot, radiating through him, flames of agony flickering inside him. He thought it was right for him to die in flames.

we’ll be looking up for heaven by smallbeans (1/1 | 13,285 | NR)

Stiles works in a music store with Derek’s older sister, and when Derek drops in to give his sister some lunch, he slowly finds himself becoming curious about the pale teen he used to go to high school with.

Magic Bullet by matildajones (1/1 | 10,345 | PG13)

Someone clears their throat loudly and Derek looks up and finds Stiles in the dead centre of the room, his arm raised. Derek finds himself smiling slightly.
“Seriously?” Stiles says. “Don’t you think you’re reading too much into this?”
Derek’s only comfort over the past few years has been a novel written by his favorite author. When he decides to teach it at an entry level university course he doesn’t expect a fiery student to disagree with everything he says…

Trust Fall by hazelNuts (1/1 | 1,826 | R)

anonymous asked: “Hi could you please write a fic where Stiles and Derek have been dating for a few months but Stiles won’t let Derek see him naked and Derek gets angry thinking Stiles isn’t as in love with him as he is With Stiles. So they have their first huge fight and Derek ends their relationship. It’s only later when Stiles turns up at his door Derek realizes that Stiles loves him but he was ashamed of the scars he had from an accident years earlier. Derek shows Stiles just how beautiful he is to him.”

Derek is sitting on his bed, knees pulled into his chest, a comforting mug of hot chocolate in his hands. Stiles would’ve told him he’s brooding if he were here, which Derek would then vehemently deny. A smile pulls at Derek’s lips, but then he remembers Stiles isn’t here to tell him he’s brooding, might not ever be again. His smile drops and he clutches the mug a little tighter.

Public Announcement

(pic cr; respectful owner)

You and Dean appear on running man and end with an announcement


Dean x Reader - Fluff

“Y/N L/N” Jaesuk called for you to come out from behind the door, you grinned and bowed as you moved closer to the running man members.

“Who?” Asked Seokjin

Jaesuk frowned at Seokjin and Jungkook ridiculed him “Who?! Yah, Sukjin hyung is getting really old now!”

You covered your mouth as you chuckled at the bickering men. Jaesuk returned his attention to you “Y/n, please introduce yourself”

You delivered him a smile and stepped forward “Hello, I'm Y/n! I've just released an album with Dean, please listen to it well and give us lots of love! Thank you” You bowed and waved at the cameras as the running man members exploded into cheers

“Are you and Dean quite close?” Jaesuk asked as he glanced at you and then at Dean

“Yes, we’re close friends” Dean answered.

Your smile dropped as you listened to Dean, however, you had to quickly smile again as Jaesuk turned to look at you again.

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The Nanny

Dr. Melinda May has been looking to hire a nanny. But between her and her daughter, Daisy, Melinda is starting to think she won’t be able to find anyone who can make both of them happy. When she hires Phil Coulson to do the job, however, Melinda finds out just how untrue that belief had been.

A Philindaisy au.

Also on AO3.

Melinda closed the door behind Nanny Candidate #14 before turning around and letting out a short sigh.

Another failed attempt.

Each person she interviewed seemed so promising in the beginning, but none turned out to be a good fit. She was too protective of her four-year-old to leave her with just anybody, and Melinda’s gut instincts told her she hadn’t found “The One” just yet, even though she’d given several a chance. As if Melinda wasn’t picky enough herself, Daisy hadn’t liked a single one of the potential nannies that had watched her for the past month either. Between the two of them, Melinda was starting to think there was no one in the world who would make both of them happy.

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How to be Hated by An RP Community: A Guide for Assholes by an Asshole

Do you RP?

Do you hate being ignored when facing the slightest bit of emotional distress?

Do you enjoy having people notice your characters but hate the pesky effort of treating your peers like actual people?

Congratulations, dear reader! You’ve taken the first step in becoming despised by every roleplayer you come into contact with! This truly is a thrilling and triumphant chapter you’re stepping into. Why there are many perks to being your grade A RPing asshole, which include crippling self esteem, isolation, depression, damaged eating/sleeping habits, decreased work quality, lower grades, loss of contact with loved ones, and even permanent emotional trauma! For some of us, this all comes naturally. However, some wide eyed newcomer walking into the RP community might not understand the basics of becoming a massive thorn on everyone’s side.

With just five easy steps, you too can become the grade A asshole your mother spent hours in labor forcing out of a narrow vulva while sobbing in sheer agony.

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Sometimes you choose what to write about; sometimes it chooses you. A recent issue of Sports Illustrated featured a fascinating article by Susanna Schrobsdorff about the Rallye Aïcha des Gazelles du Maroc, an all-female, off-road rally that’s held every year in the Moroccan desert. Women compete in teams of two, driving 4x4s, trucks, crossovers, quad bikes, or motorbikes. It’s not about speed: they have to get from checkpoint to checkpoint using only a map and a compass, and the winners are those who travel the fewest kilometers—that is, those who navigate best. So I was thinking about why someone might want to do this… and then I noticed that Schrobsdorff had written that the mechanics who travel along as part of the rally’s huge retinue of support personnel are all men. And I thought, Well, this certainly won’t do. My disclaimer here is that I did a lot of reading about the rally, but I’m sure I’ve got tons of details wrong. Also my French is about as bad as my other non-English languages. Anyway, this piece is proceeding kind of like Pilot, in that something seems to want to be said, but I’m not quite managing to say it.


Myka drinks from her late-afternoon-lukewarm water bottle and wishes she were asleep. Being the only woman among a fraternity of men who think they know more than she does is always exhausting. Being the only woman on a forty-person team of mechanics that’s supporting a nine-day, all-woman off-road rally in the Moroccan desert? There’s probably a word for how much heavier that is, but Myka doesn’t know it. It’s only three days in, and she’s slipping into a very familiar trough of wondering why she ever said she’d do this again, the parched back of her mind cursing the name of the Army buddy who first got her this gig six years ago.

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Animorphs October: Parents

Set sometime around or directly before #5.

Jean Blumenthal and Eva Ruiz had been inseperable long before they became Jean Berenson and — well, Eva Ruiz, because that’s just the sort of person Eva was. Eva did not change or bend for anyone. Within the first twenty-four hours of their introductions Eva had the bookish and shy Jean dancing with a stranger, all while wearing a halter top and floral print pants that sat VERY low on the hip. Eva pulled people into her orbit, and anyone who was chosen by her loved it. Eva had coaxed Jean out of a shell Jean hadn’t even known she’d built. Jean’s return influence on Eva was, at most, occasionally convincing her not to punch someone. Being Eva Ruiz’s best friend was a point of pride for Jean, even if Eva was constantly on the verge of getting Jean killed or worse — ruining her perfect GPA.

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Who We Used to Be (13): Heard

Izaya makes it off the couch eventually. His skin is going clammy with the liquid drying sticky on his fingers and against his stomach, and it doesn’t take much for his physical discomfort to stir him into motion that his mental incoherence would find it impossible to achieve alone. He moves steadily, neither rushing nor delaying, working himself through the process of getting to the bathroom and washing his skin clean of the evidence of pleasure and the sheen of sweat alike without thinking about much of anything at all. It’s an easy process, one made familiar by years of repetition and more immediate practice over the last week; Izaya doesn’t have to think about his movement, or his actions, or anything beyond the immediate reality of water running warm over his hands and washing his skin clean of any trace of the relief that feels like a distant memory even as his legs are still shaky with the force of the orgasm that surged through him. It’s soothing, almost, certainly more of a comfort than the alternative; but it only takes a few minutes, and then he’s emerging from the bathroom again, and coming back across his apartment as if he’s being pulled on a line.

He left his phone on the coffee table alongside the couch, turned up so he can see the screen as he approaches. The notification light is blinking, a crimson lighthouse warning of danger at some impossible distance away; but when Izaya picks up his phone and unlocks the screen there’s not the missed call his chest tightens to think of. There’s just a message, a single line of text that opens up across the screen as he taps on it; he doesn’t think about reading it, doesn’t have to decide if he wants to take in the information. It’s in his head as soon as he glances at it, habit too quick for him to stop himself from skimming the full line of text at a glance before it’s done.

Did you listen to my messages?

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I’m sorta high on coffee, so Lord knows how this is going to turn out. I also can’t make graphics to save my life, so. SO. You all get this thing? I mean it’s got Amon on it, so you can’t really go wrong. Unless you dislike Amon. In that case I’m sorry. ( Also are u lost, this is a blog for him. ) 

I thought 123 followers was a– sorta amusing number to do this on? Like a weird follow forever. Because I’m a child. And I love you all, so didn’t want to wait much longer. 8′>  

Anywho. Hold on to your hats boys, this is gonna get sappy.

The squad - A.k.a the people I consider the closest to me. 

@bacieciambelline - YOU. You are the biggest ray of sunshine I know, my very best friend. I would do anything for you, expect from maybe eat spicy curry for your entertainment. I’m so grateful I’ve known you for 7 years, every single moment spent together has been one of sheer and total joy, be it watching Spongebob at 4 in the morning or simply talking about spatulas and hoses. We’ve had countless laughs, across places like TinierMe to Club Penguin. I will cherish our friendship forever.

Basically. I love you, Feli. Thank you for being in my life. I hope it never ends. ♡♡♡

@just-a-simple-otaku - MY AMON LOVING PARTNER IN CRIME!!! You are an absolute sweetheart. The nicest person on this site. I’m so grateful you messaged me on my main account, I truly am. And you’re so gifted. Your writing, your art, everything. Also screaming about Amon and your OC gives me life? They’re adorable? Even if it’s hurting me? Why is this happening, why– And omg our ocs interactions are amazing too. I want to draw them sassing each other. 

But honestly, ilu so much? This friendship has been such a blast so far, here’s praying we continue to meme it up for a long, long time. ( Yee! ) ♡♡

… I need to put these all under read more I’m so sorry. 

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zendelai  asked:

I've been thinking a lot lately about Kiara Hawke & Sebastian (because I love them so dearly). Could you tell me about a time Kiara caught Sebastian in a very Seb-like act of selflessness?

<3 (And happy birthday!!)


Hawke did a double-take when she saw the dark-cloaked stranger skulking from shadow to shadow away from the Chantry. She knew Sebastian Vael’s gait as well as she knew Fenris’ stalk or Isabela’s swagger or the way Varric’s left knee irritated him in the rain, and even though the cloak and the skulking were all wrong, she’d have bet a purse full of sovereigns the stranger was Sebastian. Something about the width of the shoulders beneath the cloak, perhaps. Or the color of the skin of the hand holding the cloak closed at his throat. Something about the fluidity of the progress across the square. Wrong, but right at the same time. 

She squinted. Sebastian usually walked with his head up and his shoulders back. Even when he was on the Chantry’s business, he never quite lost the carriage that indicated Prince before Priest even registered. Moving into shadows of her own–she was far more accomplished a skulker than he, after all–she watched the hem of the cloak brush the white stones and followed it.

The squint became an outright frown when the stranger–no, Sebastian; she was certain it was Sebastian–entered the Blooming Rose without even a moment’s hesitation, pushing the door back and slipping through it swiftly. She hesitated just long enough that she had to open the door herself instead of catching it as it swung closed. She nearly lost him; more than one dark cloak hung from more than one set of shoulders in the Rose’s common room. 

The one she was following, though, had unerringly headed for the stairs and was already halfway up the steps. She was close enough to see the hand on the bannister; close enough to know whose hand it was. 

She had no bloody idea what he was doing at the Rose, though. Every time he mentioned his intriguingly sordid past (not often enough, as Isabela was always the first to point out), he spoke decidedly in the past tense. 

Not that she noticed. Not that she thought about it at all. Not that it kept her up nights, wondering just how sordid that past was.

Not that she had, in moments of incredible weakness, thought Isabela, bemoaning not knowing him then, had the right of it.

Not that she was at all jealous of whomever brought him to the Blooming Rose, dark-cloaked and skulking.

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ponsay-de-leon  asked:

Hi Yu! Can I just say that I freakin' love your art? Your style is so cute, I love it. I've been following you for a while now and to be honest, I can't remember for what but I know I made a good choice with all the DR that you draw (Naegiri OTP). I remember seeing your comic voice acted, the one with Sayaka, and it was amazing. The art, the music, and the voice acting, everything fit so well together, it made me legit tear up. Please, keep up the amazing and fantastic work!

(Yes, do mention me about what you like when you send me kind messages especially when it’s something I know about and am into aaa I might be able to attach a little drawing or something ;v;/ have a naegiri//)

Now onto the reply sorry for replying so late ;v; the day I got this message I had to take a test;; and I couldn’t reply right back but I remember having gotten a lot of strength from this message of yours!!/// I feel really, really happy from getting lovely asks like these. I’ve been safekeeping quite a few, and they never get old.. mm, it really makes me want to keep trying!! Thank you so much! I hope you’ve been enjoying your stay, it relieves me that you feel that I’m a good blog to follow, and the fact that you love my art makes me excited!//

YES!! I remember about that too! it’s this one right here, dubbed by the lovely narwhal. (I WANT TO REDRAW THAT COMIC NOW aa I like the idea and I really felt like drawing it before I forgot but it looks so rushed now;;) I listen to it when I feel a little down, it was a wonderful dub. About three of my drawings got dubbed and two of the asks I’ve sent got lovely dubs too and I drew fanart for it, dubs.. are so incredible. I never thought that good of a thing would happen to me, but it did, and the dr fandom is full of talented people, seriously. We have people capable of doing a lot of different things and contributing to the fandom in many unique ways of their own. I felt very happy and lucky for having this happen to me and when I remember about this time to time I still feel so lucky!!// You say it was a good choice for you to have followed me and I feel that’s a very lovely thing to have heard..// I feel the same way about having joined the dr fandom on my end. It’s been a pleasant journey so far and I was able to meet a lot of wonderful people, and also find people who like my things too which makes me all the more happier!//

Bless you so much!! ‘v’/ my works ain’t so propro yet but I aspire to make something that would make people go “wow that’s so cool” someday. In ten years maybe, I’m going to give myself a lot of time. But definitely someday!// And I hope to see you there too, it’ll be so lovely to have you and all the lovely people I’ve met with me!// have a lovely weekend, this week wasn’t the best for me in fact I was feeling pretty stressed out just thirty minutes ago writing papers and stuff;; but while I was answering I felt a lot better and happier. 

Sorry the reply got super long too! I got a bit carried away as always, I hope you don’t mind! ><;; Have fun and see you around! I think I’ll linger around drawing a bit before I head off to sleep tonight

Christmas Eve ( A Tragedy )

Originally posted by daystilchristmas

Character: Percival Graves

Prompt: (Specific Request)

A/n: The title was inspired by a really short poem I like, so it’s intended to look like that :)

Also, I think I fixed my gif problem! (let’s hope i don’t jinx it)

Ever since moving to New York City, Percival had a certain dislike towards Christmas time. Simply because every year he spent it alone in his apartment with some type of alcohol nearby. It wasn’t like he had many close friends and his love life was laughable. Usually he spent the night drowning himself in his work while he had a few glasses of Pure Malt Whiskey until he fell asleep.

He never bothered with decorating either, only transfiguring a tree in the corner of his living room and few strands of lights so he didn’t feel totally disconnected to the holiday.

It was even more unbearable to listen to everyone he worked with constantly talking about their holiday plans with stupid smiles on their faces.

Not to mention this kind of buzz was all over the MACUSA building the moment Thanksgiving was over, yet another holiday Graves didn’t particularly care for.

It wasn’t like he wanted to feel the bitter about an otherwise happy occasion, but after so many years of being alone for it he couldn’t help it.

And it wasn’t like he wanted to be alone either, but being head of your department didn’t leave much time to make close friends or fall in love with someone.

This year was no different, except Seraphina had refused to give him any assignments over the holidays, saying he could use the time off to relax a little.

Which was altogether pretty amusing coming from the Madam President.

So now all he could do is sit unhappily in his armchair and listen to whatever random record he had playing.

It was moments like these that he probably hated the most. He always thought his apartment was far too big for one person, and he never liked how it always seemed to be too quiet, it just felt like a constant reminder that he was the only person there.

Although tonight it wasn’t so bad, snow had started falling from the sky and the wind pushed against the building rhythmically as it howled.

Percival was in the middle of his second glass of alcohol whenever there were a few knocks at his door. Which was very odd because he wasn’t expecting any visitors, especially not today.

With a sigh, he got up from his chair and walked over to the door, half-heartedly opening it to see who was there.

However, he perked up almost instantly whenever he saw you standing infront of him, still wearing your scarf and gloves as you smiled.

“(Y/n)?” He asked, remembering your face distinctly, you were his childhood friend back from when he was attending Ilvermorny.

“Percival!” You said enthusiastically, you smile turning into a grin. “It’s so wonderful to see you again.”

He couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face. “And you as well, please come inside.” He said, opening the door for you and helping you with your coat.

“I was a little worried you wouldn’t recognize me.” You said, stuffing your gloves into your coat pocket and unwinding the scarf arounf your neck.

“How could I? You’ve been my friend since I was eleven years old.” He told you fondly, putting your coat away before giving you a long awaited hug.

Percival had forgotten just how much he had missed you since you graduated until he saw your face again, then it all came rushing back into his head.

“I hope I wasn’t intruding on anything? It is Christmas Eve after all.” You asked whenever he pulled away from you.

“Ah no.” He said, somewhat bashfully. “I don’t usually have plans around this time of year I’m afraid.”

“Well then, I suppose it was a good thing I decided to come, what a dreadful thing to be alone on Christmas.”

Percival laughed. “I would have to agree, so tell me what have you been up to, it feels like centuries since I last saw your face.”

And for the next hour or so, the two of you made up for all the lost time. He learned that you now taught Potions at Ilvermorny and that you shared a place with a few other old friends from school as well.

“You’re the head of magical law? That’s wonderful! You used to talk about wanting to be an auror all the time.” You said, looking him with a proud smile as you both sat in his kitchen.

“It’s incredibly tiring, but I’d be lying if I said I don’t enjoy doing it.” He explained, resting his chin in his hand as he looked at you. “So, has there been anyone special in your life?” He asked hesitantly.

You took a drink from the the tea he had given you earlier, staring down into it before answering. “It was awhile ago but there was someone, yes.”

Percival didn’t really know how to take your answer, he had fancied you for a long time back whenever you were both in school but seeing you again made all those memories come flooding back, but he asked the question on his mind anyways. “Did you love him?”

A small smile rose on your face, still looking into your tea. “No, but I did rather like him.” You said, turning your gaze to meet his.

He cleared this throat, looking down at the last of his drink. “What happened to him?”

You hummed, setting down your cup. “Just didn’t work out.” You said simply, looking up at him. “What about you?”

Percival laughed. “Nothing like that, like I said I haven’t had the time.”

You looked passed him, reading the clock. “Speaking of time, I should probably be heading home.” You said, moving from your seat.

“Are you sure?” Percival asked, looking up at you. “I mean it is rather late but what sort of friend would I be to ship you out into the cold.”

You smiled, glancing over at the snow still blazing past the windows. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Nonsense, you’re always welcome here.” He insisted, not wanting you to leave.

Percival hadn’t even noticed hours had passed since you arrived, he was far too wrapped up in enjoying your company and somewhat relishing in the fact that he wasn’t alone anymore.

“Like I said, it would be rather sad if we were both alone for Christmas.” You told him. “Which reminds me.”

Percival watched you go to your coat and pull out a small red rectangular box from inside your pocket. “I got you a present.” You said, handing it to him.

He smiled as he took to from you. “You know you didn’t have to. Just seeing you again is gift enough.”

“Go on, open it. It’s not very much but I hope you’ll like it.” You said, expertly avoiding his refusal.

Tearing off the wrapping and opening the box, he found a black fountain pen sitting inside.

“You probably have dozens like it, but I still figured you could alwas use a pen.” You told him with a smile.

“It’s perfect, I had lost my other one. Besides it’s far more precious coming from you.” He said, placing his arm over your shoulder and leading you to the living room. “Remind to get you something tomorrow.”

Needless to say, Percival was extremely happy to be spending Christmas with someone he cared about.

anonymous asked:

An inclusive court would have been strange to Marg. My big question is, how much do you believe she was involved in the Joff slaying? I've seen the argument that Marg threw her under the bus on that one, but I don't really trust that narrative considering Littlefinger is the source. There also wasn't any reasons for the Tyrell's to want to implicate Tyrion and Sansa, except maybe convenience. What are your thoughts?

I think Margaery would have known most details of the assassination - event, time, general method - just because not including her when the plan is to poison a cup she’s drinking from would be ludicrously unsafe for a family pinning so many of their hopes on her. And then there’s this bit in ASoS…

“Margaery, please,” she said, “you mustn’t.” It was hard to get the words out. “You mustn’t marry him. He’s not like he seems, he’s not. He’ll hurt you.”

“I shouldn’t think so.” Margaery smiled confidently.

- Sansa II, ASoS

Margaery continues on about Loras for a while to explain that confidence, but Sansa’s clever, and shortly afterwards, we get this:

Yet the more she thought about it all, the more she wondered. Joff might restrain himself a few turns, perhaps as long as a year, but soon or late he will show his claws, and when he does…the realm might have a second Kingslayer, and there would be war inside the city, as the men of the lion and the men of the rose made the gutters run red.

Sansa was surprised Margaery did not see it too.

- Sansa II, ASoS

The simplest explanation is that Margaery is well aware of her brother’s temperament, and Joffrey’s temperament, and so sees the same thing Sansa does. Her confidence, therefore, is likely from the fact she knows Joffrey won’t make it as far as the bedding ceremony on their wedding night and the whole Loras thing is a non-issue.

Margaery was also clearly involved in background work confirming Joffrey’s character, as her good cop act with her grandmother shows.

“Joffrey,” Sansa said. “Joffrey did that. He promised me he would be merciful, and cut my father’s head off. He said that was mercy, and took me up on the walls and made me look at it. The head. He wanted me to weep, but…” She stopped abruptly, and covered her mouth. I’ve said too much, oh gods be good, they’ll know, they’ll hear, someone will tell on me.

“Go on.” It was Margaery who urged. Joffrey’s own queen-to-be. Sansa did not know how much she had heard.

The Queen of Thorns was so close she could smell the old woman’s sour breath. Her gaunt thin fingers were pinching her wrist. To her other side, Margaery was listening as well. A shiver went through her. “A monster,” she whispered, so tremulously she could barely hear her own voice, “Joffrey is a monster. He lied about the butcher’s boy and made Father kill my wolf. When I displease him, he has the Kingsguard beat me. He’s evil and cruel, my lady, it’s so. And the queen as well.”

Lady Olenna Tyrell and her granddaughter exchanged a look. “Ah,” said the old woman, “That’s a pity.”

- Sansa I, ASoS

Asking Sansa about Joffrey was the entire point of inviting Sansa to tea in the first place, an invitation issued by Margaery herself. She was clearly keeping an ear out for when to start cajoling Sansa along. The reaction to Sansa’s story shows that Margaery was aware of the rumours about Joffrey, and furthermore, that Olenna knew Margaery was aware of those rumours. 

I have to say it, but there is absolutely reason for the Tyrells to implicate Tyrion and Sansa - it keeps suspicion off them. There must be someone to publicly blame for Joffrey’s death. Blaming Tyrion and Sansa specifically might have been convenience on their part (but not on Littlefinger’s, who hates Tyrion, wants Sansa to be dependent on him, and was also in on the plan). I think Margaery’s plenty smart enough to have worked out a) that blame needed to be assigned and b) where blame would likely fall.

So yeah, I think she knew a lot of what was due to happen. I don’t think she planned it, but she had a role in the scheme requiring trust. The assassination would not have been planned the same way if Margaery could not be trusted.

As for the “under the bus” thing…

It’s not hard to see why Margaery kept her mouth shut. She knew what Joffrey was like, and her own family was risking a lot on her behalf to have him killed. Fact remains, though, Sansa risked a lot to tell Margaery not to marry Joffrey and why, with less backing her up, while Margaery was willing to let Sansa become collateral. One of these people is a far better friend than the other.

Thanks for the question and your thoughts, anon!

I think I can say Sleeping At Last has some of the most beautiful songs I can think of. 

Each single song is so special. I always feel how huge the universe is and I tend to think about my place within it. 

Please love yourself, listen to them, let me propose you those of Space I&II (with bonus Light bc it’s important):


’Сause you are loved. You are loved more than you know.
I hereby pledge all of my days to prove it so.
Though your heart is far too young to realize
The unimaginable light you hold inside,


I guess space, and time, takes violent things, angry things
and makes them kind.
We are the dust of dust., We are the apple of God’s eye.
We are infinite as the universe we hold inside.
Infinity times infinity.
Let there be light, let there be light, let me be right… 


God knows, I am dissonance Waiting to be swiftly pulled into tune
I know the further I go, The harder I try, only keeps my eyes closed
And somehow I’ve fallen in love
With this middle ground at the cost of my soul
Yet I know, if I stepped aside,
Released the controls, you would open my eyes
That somehow, all of this mess 
Is just my attempt to know the worth of my life…


Like a telescope, I will pull you so close 'til no space lies in between.
And suddenly I see you. Suddenly I see you.
I was a billion little pieces 'til you pulled me into focus.
Astronomy in reverse, It was me who was discovered.


Fault lines tremble underneath my glass house.
But I put it out of my mind long enough to call it courage
To live without a lifeline.
I bend the definition of faith to exonerate my blind eye.
‘Til the sirens sound, I’m safe.


Our nights have grown so long. Now we beg for sound advice.
“let the brokenness be felt 'til you reach the other side.
There is goodness in the heart of every broken man
Who comes right up to the edge of losing everything he has.”
We were young enough to sign along the dotted line.
Now we’re young enough to try to build a better life.


While collecting the stars, I connected the dots.
I don’t know who I am, but now I know who I’m not.
I’m just a curious speck that got caught up in orbit.
Like a magnet it beckoned my metals toward it.
Make my messes matter. Make this chaos count.
Let every little fracture in me shatter out loud.


You taught me the courage of stars before you left.
How light carries on endlessly, even after death.
With shortness of breath, you explained the infinite.
How rare and beautiful it is to even exist.
I couldn’t help but ask for you to say it all again.
I tried to write it down but I could never find a pen.
I’d give anything to hear you say it one more time,
That the universe was made Just to be seen by my eyes.
With shortness of breath, I’ll explain the infinite
How rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist.




Stitch by stitch I tear apart.
If brokenness is a form of art, I must be a poster child prodigy.
Thread by thread I come apart.
If brokenness is a work of art, Surely this must be my masterpiece.
I’m only honest when it rains. If I time it right, the thunder breaks
When I open my mouth. I want to tell you but I don’t know how.


I’ve been worried all my life, A nervous wreck most of the time.
I’ve always been afraid of heights, of falling backwards.
I’ve been worried all my life.
’Til one day I had enough of this exercise of trust.
I leaned in and let it hurt, Let my body feel the dirt.
When I break pattern, I break ground.
I rebuild when I break down.
I wake up more awake than I’ve ever been before.

Still I’m pinned under the weight of what I believed would keep me safe.
So show me where my armor ends, show me where my skin begins.
Like a final puzzle piece, It all makes perfect sense to me…
The heaviness that I hold in my heart belongs to gravity.
The heaviness in my heart belongs to gravity.

pineapple cakes and vanilla lattes

Oikawa Tooru/Hinata Shouyou

Words: 1,430

i started getting more oihina feels while writing this for @hraina….i will write you all the oihina in the world for you bb 

(i need to find a beta, i’m so sorry for any grammar mistakes)

 Oikawa utterly detests the rain.

        He hates how it ruins his hair—his luxurious, silky brown hair that takes him exactly thirty-seven minutes to style this morning— and drenches his clothes. He hates how it leaves puddles for cars to race through and splash him in the process as he walks on the sidewalk, and god, somehow every bus becomes unavailable, crowded, and behind schedule. He hates it when fat raindrops seeps into his skin and soaks his bones, and leaves him shivering silly as he runs to find shelter. And he especially hates how his roommate was right in today having the worst thunderstorm yet in over a decade and how he ignored the newscaster’s warnings to stay inside.

        He has contemplated before to pack his bags and move to a desert where he wouldn’t see a drop of miserable water falling from slow, thundering clouds. But then there would be competition, and well, Oikawa likes to think of himself as the hottest thing around. Plus, he personally believes he transforms into the green-skinned witch from the Wizard of Oz whenever he sweats, and he just can’t have that.

       He is blinder in the rain with his glasses on, so he takes them off and jogs to the nearest shop that he can make out with his horrible vision. He enters a coffee shop—nearly deserted except for one or two students trapped in by the rain— and marches up to a blurry-faced barista, sputters out his order for the hottest drink they have, and scoots to a table placed by the store’s heater.

        Oikawa is too busy rubbing away the smudges the raindrops left on his glasses to notice the barista walk up to him with his order until he hears a squeaky, soft voice say his name.


      He jerks his head up and sees a blurry redhead until he puts back on his glasses. It’s been a few years since he’s last seen dimples and a goofy grin as lovely as the one he sees right now, but his mind registers the stranger as Hinata, and his stomach sinks with an anchor made out of anxiety. Oikawa can only imagine what a dripping, frazzled mess he must seem in front of the redhead; he makes futile attempt to run a hand through his frizzy hair—another reason why he hates the rain is how it makes his hair poofy and unkempt— but he gives up trying to salvage the last remaining grace he ever had and gives a weak hello.

        “How long has it been? Three years?” Hinata breaths out a laugh and scratches the back of his head. Oikawa notices the long orange bangs that frame his face, the small tail his hair makes with his hair tied up, and even the small black piercing on his right ear. He stares for a little too long before he gives a sheepish laugh.

        “Oh, probably. I almost didn’t recognize you, you look so different.”

         “Ah, thanks. It probably took you awhile to recognize me because I finally grew a few inches.” Hinata grins. “I really wasn’t expecting you, especially with today’s weather. You look–”

        “Horrible? Like I’m auditioning for a role as a Disney villain? Please don’t remind me, today has been a horrible day.” Oikawa groans. The redhead shakes his head with a horrified expression on his face.

        “No, no! I wasn’t going to say that at all!”

        Oikawa laughs and waves it off. “It’s fine, it’s fine, I’m just messing with you. How long have you been working here?”

       “My mother started this up awhile ago, so I help her out every now and then whenever I have free time from university. She’s a chef at a restaurant in the city, but she wanted to start up this store up as a side business.” Hinata pauses and pulls out a chair from an adjacent table. “Do you mind if I sit with you? It’s not all that busy today, so I was kind of bored before you came in.”

       As they sat talking, Oikawa soon forgets about how horrible his day was, and how horrible his hair is. His clothes dries up—Hinata turned up the heater despite Oikawa’s protests— and Hinata lends him a spare jacket he had in the back. Hinata brags on how good the coffee he makes is, and Oikawa can’t deny that the warm, sweet drink in his hand is tasty and able to help him relax. Time slips by quickly because of how easy it is to talk to the energetic barista; Hinata’s voice has become more mellow over time, more soothing to hear and Oikawa forgets about the time, forgets about the constant drum of raindrops on the window, and lets himself enjoy the conversation they have.

       After a few hours pass, Oikawa sits during the bus ride home and listens to the music on his phone. He is exhausted, his back hurts from carrying his book bag, and the bus driver is driving at a speed equivalent to a snail due to the pouring rain, but Oikawa finds himself enjoying how pretty the rain clouds can be during sunset and how lovely the raindrops look against his windows. He hears his phone buzz and sees a new message from an unknown number.

{it was really nice seeing you today!! let me know when u get home safely!!! }

        Hinata doesn’t make rainy days so bad.

        On days he has free time, Oikawa starts stopping by the same coffee shop after his classes. The small, warm shop has a constant smell of pineapple bread and vanilla mochas, and it is easy for Oikawa to finish his work there because of how quiet it is. The coffee shop helps him focus as he finishes sketching designs and material ideas for his fashion classes, and he completes typing his essays easier than when he tries working in his apartment. He doesn’t actually like coffee all that much and tries to avoid drinking it as much as he can—he doesn’t want to admit that he mainly buys coffee from the shop as an excuse to see the orange-haired, dimple-faced barista—, and it doesn’t take Hinata too long to figure out that Oikawa isn’t much of a fan of bitter drinks.

        “If you don’t like coffee, then why do you stop by so much?” Hinata asks one day and leans on the counter. There’s a twinkle in the redhead’s eyes, and Oikawa notices how his eyes are a lovely shade of brown.

        “It’s a good study place. I can’t focus at my apartment because my roommate is always too loud or distracting.” Oikawa says and watches Hinata load a tray of pastries onto the display. “Can you give me two pastries to go? I left the one I bought the other day in the fridge, and Kuroo ate it.”

        “Do you usually cook for you and him?”

        “Sometimes he brings his boyfriend Tsukishima over and we go out to eat. Most of the time he cooks and I clean. It’s a healthy relationship we have,” Oikawa fakes a serious face and feels his stomach tingle when Hinata snorts and covers his mouth with his hand. “Yikes, is that how you scare off your dates?”

        “Oh, be quiet, you are not someone who can judge how I laugh.” Hinata grins as he hands him a bag of pastries. He opens his mouth to say something before quickly biting down his lips and fiddles with his hands. Oikawa starts asking if there was anything on his mind that seemed to trouble him before the redhead cuts him off.

        “Speaking of dates, when will you ask me out on one?”

        When he realizes how straightforward he is, Hinata’s face heats up to a shade that seemed to match the raspberry pastries he gave to Oikawa, but he continues talking and keeps his eyes locked on the brown-haired man.

        “I know you said this store helps you study, but you don’t always have to buy coffee as a way to talk to me.” Hinata says as he reaches for a notebook and a pen. He scribbles down something and shoves it to Oikawa. He’s stunned and speechless—it isn’t the first time someone has asked him out and usually he considers himself smooth and charming—but he’s astonished at how abruptly Hinata asks him and how easily the redhead can see through him.

        “Call me when you’ve thought about it, okay?” Hinata sends a small, flustered smile to the brown-haired student. “And I promise we can get something that isn’t coffee.”

hopefulcolorcollector  asked:

Could you please write a 2p fruk? I've always liked that ship but I can never find anything good on it. Thank you!

With a yawn Louis lets Matt button up his black shirt the proper way cause he couldn’t be bothered to do it right the first time. He refused to shave but Matt managed to get him to at least pull his hair back with a black ribbon. He goes to light his cigarette but it’s plucked from his fingers before he can do so.

“It will smell,” Matt says to him.

“I don’t care,” Louis says back. Matt’s facial expression doesn’t change. He just puts the little stick of death on a side table and then pushes Louis out the door. Louis can’t help but groan.

“How the fuck did I let you talk me into this?” He asks from the passenger seat of Matt’s red truck. He’s not sure where his son got the money to afford it and he doesn’t care enough to ask. Matt lets out an angry sigh.

“Give him a chance, Allen says he’s sweet,” Louis scoffs at that. He knows how Allen is and he really doesn’t trust his judgement even if he’s Matt’s best friend. He shifts awkwardly at having dressed up even though he still looks scrappy. It’s not his fault. He hasn’t been on a proper date in so long.

Matt practically kicks him out of the truck which Louis isn’t sure he can actually do being as his son but he exits anyway. The place his date is supposed to be at is a decent looking place, no where near the run down places he’s been to before to pick up people before.

He tells the waitress his situation and they gesture to a table where someone else is already sitting. As if nervous, though he refuses he is, Louis gulps and makes his way over.

“Uhm,” He says smartly to get their attention. The person looks up at him and Louis is floored. He’s sure he’s never seen a person so soft looking before. Their eyes are piercing blue like the kind of popsicles he used to give to Matt to get him to stop crying.

“You must Louis,” They say with a smile. He shifts awkwardly and nods his head. Then the person giggles. They fucking giggle and Louis is even more lost in his head.

“I’m Oliver, please do sit,” He says far too cheerfully. Louis awkwardly slides into the seat across from him. Trying to be discreet he watches them as they look through the menu. The smile on their face looks permanently welded there. He jumps when they drop their menu to put their attention on him.

“So what do you do for work Mr Bonnefoy?” He asks to get to know each other. His voice is sweet and Louis feels like that’s just how their voice is naturally.

“I’m a food critic,” He admits lowly. Oliver practically squeals.

“That sounds like so much fun! I’ll have to bake for you sometime,” He winks playfully and giggles more. There’s a hefty lump in Louis’s throat so all he does is nod. He says just enough to get Oliver talking enough for the both of them which he doesn’t mind. He’s not sure he could actually form words.

It’s not everyday he finds someone willing to sit and talk with him. He’s bad at conversation that’s easy to see. It’s made even worse by how genuinely nice Oliver is. His thoughts tend to run dark when it comes to love and in the span of an hour Oliver has completely slipped past the walls with sincerity. It’s unnerving really and makes him fumble all the more.

“Uhm,” He says outside the restaurant. Oliver smiles up sweetly at him and it does funky things to his chest. He huffs and turns away.

“I’m very bad at this, kind of thing,” He says openly, far more than he has been the past few years of his life. Oliver listens intently. When he doesn’t go on Oliver laughs softly.

“I had fun actually,” He says with the faintest of pink on his cheeks. Louis’s shoulders slump.

“What.” He deadpans. His entire system freezes when Oliver bounces to kiss his cheek gently.

“I’d like to see you again, if that’s okay?” He asks. Louis stares dumbstruck at him, only finding the cognitive ability to nod his head. Oliver takes his hand and gives it a quick squeeze before damn near skipping to his car and drive away.

He finally lights a cigarette while waiting for Matt to come get him. When he does come he does not ask how the date went, not that Louis would have told him anyway. He will not give his son the satisfaction of succeeding though it’s not long till Matt gets a call from Allen to ask when the next date will be.

bored-and-alone-among-the-stars  asked:

Mckirk Fantasy AU where Bones is a Magician or a Healer as you prefer and Jim is a Paladin or a knight whatever you think it would fit better... Thank you 😆

I’m not gonna lie, I played this out in Skyrim many times and it’s my guilty pleasure. I realize the whole “plot” doesn’t fit in one part, but their relationship does. 😆

  • Jim Kirk hates magic. Magic is for Elves, with their pointy ears and tall figures - heads up the clouds. Magic has no place in the kingdom. Or so he’s told, anyway. Because Jim has never exactly seen magic happen, nor has he read about it, because Jim can’t read. He knows letters individually, but struggles to focus on actual reading. The letters in words just kind of jump in front of his eyes, and he just can’t concentrate. Not like he needs a lot of reading in his life, anyway. He spent most of his younger years on his family’s farm, but after his father died in a raider attack, he chose to become a guard. At first he’s stationed in the city, which is fun enough. He gets to patrol, chase and capture thieves, and stop bandit raids from surrounding farms. But then he gets sent to one of the nearby towns, and that’s the most boring thing ever. There’s a few saw mills, an old mine, and a few small shops. There’s little happening, to the point Jim almost misses farming.
  • He finds Leonard out in the woods a few hundred feet away from the town. On the ground, unconscious, pretty badly mauled up. When Jim kneels down next to him, he’s fairly sure the other’s dead. He turns the body around, and nearly jumps backwards when the other suddenly gasps for air.  "Hey, hey, it’s okay,“ Jim says, “stay calm, okay? I’ll take you to the town healer. Can you talk?” “Yeah,” the other says, though he sounds awfully weak. “What’s your name?” Jim continues, picking up the stranger in his arms and stumbling back towards the town. He tries to keep the other man conscious by making him talk, though the fact that his uniform is rapidly stained red is worrisome. “Dragon,” the other says softly, and Jim frowns. “Huh?” “I was attacked… by a dragon.” “O…kay,” Jim says, “sounds like you hit your head.” “Stop. Put me down,” the other says, and though Jim advices him not to, the man insists. The moment Jim puts him back up on his feet, the other presses a hand to his wounds and mumbles a soft spell under his breath. His hands light up, and when Jim catches on, he retracts his hands from the stranger immediately. “You use magic.” “Yeah.” “Magic,” Jim continues dramatically, “why didn’t you do that beforehand?” “Because,” the other says, “I was knocked out. Almost shredded to death by the damn dragon.” Jim raises an eyebrow. “I think the fumes of your potions have gone to your head,” he says. “You do realize there’s a difference between alchemists and wizards? Of course you don’t. Simpleton.” “I saved you,” Jim says, crossing his arms, “you better show me some respect.” “You’re just a guard,” Leonard replies, “You didn’t save me, you just carried me a few feet. I’m forever grateful.” He throws Jim a small smile, not particularly genuine, and then he turns around and stumbles away. What a prick. At least Jim’s never gotta deal with them anymore.
  • But then a dragon attacks a nearby village overnight, completely burning it down to the ground. Jim thinks that’s just spooked townspeople talk. It must’ve been a bandit raid. Others say they’ve actually seen said dragon fly. Jim’s present at the hearing as a guard, and Leonard is there, too. Trying to explain to the local Lord that he saw that dragon, too. Jim scoffs. A little too loud, possibly, because it catches the attention of the Lord. “Is there something you wish to say, Kirk?” Pike asks, and Jim shakes his head. “Nope. No sir. I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of drawing your own sane conclusions.” Pike raises an eyebrow at that, but Jim knows he can speak his mind around Pike. Mostly privately, though, not usually in such a formal setting. But then another guard stumbles in, swearing to seeing this dragon, too, and that it burned and ate a few other guards he was patrolling with, so then Pike isn’t really left with much choice. “You, wizard, do you think you can defeat this dragon?” Pike asks, turning to Leonard. “Me? No,” Leonard replies, “not now, at least.” “What do you need to stop it?” Pike continues. “I know it’s a fire breathing dragon,” Leonard says, “so if we can obtain a strong ice spell-” “Okay” Pike replies, “go for it. I’ll give you the gold you need to get going. And a bodyguard.” “What? Sir, my Lord, I work fine on my own,” Leonard says. Pike, instead, nods towards Jim. “James, make sure our wizard here returns in one piece. With the spell.” “What?” Jim says. “What? No, I don’t need him-” Leonard says, but Pike waves his hand. “Pack what you need, leave at dawn. You’re both dismissed.“ 
  • They leave at dawn, in complete and utter silence because they have nothing to say to each other. Of course, that silence doesn’t last very long. "Are we there yet?“ Jim asks, looking over his shoulder at Leonard, who’s a few feet behind him trying to make sense of a locally bought map. “No,” Leonard replies. “What d'you need for a spell, anyway?” “Books, most and foremost,” Leonard says, “and time to practice.” “That sounds boring,” Jim says, ignoring the deathly stare he receives from Leonard. “Can you tell me if we’re heading towards Forstmarch?” “I dunno,” Jim replies. “What do you mean you don’t know?” Leonard asks. “I mean: I don’t know,” Jim repeats, “I know we’re heading north. But we’re as far away from the Capital as I’ve ever been in my life.” “By the Gods,” Leonard mumbles, rubbing his temples, “they’ve sent me on a quest with a jester.” 
  • They don’t agree on anything. Two hours before dusk, Jim insists they set up camp for the night. Leonard argues that according to the map, they should be near a small settlement where they could sleep in an actual inn, rather than under the stars. Come sunset, there’s still not a settlement in sight. “The map is wrong,” Leonard concludes, and Jim scoffs. “You just can’t read it.” “You read it, then,” Leonard replies. “No,” Jim says, “I don’t need to read your stupid map. I’m from this land. That’s more than I can say about you and your Elves magic.” “Elves’ magic?” Leonard asks. “Magic isn’t for humans,” Jim says, “it is dangerous, it is evil, and it will backfire at you.” “Says who? Where did you read this?” Leonard asks. “I didn’t read it anywhere, I’ve been told,” Jim says, continuing to walk down the cobblestone road they’ve been following all day. It’s rapidly getting more cold, his feet hurt, he’s definitely hungry. “There’s your problem, kid,” Leonard says, “don’t believe everything your hay-for-brain farmer folks are saying.” “Oh, but it’s written in a book, so it must be true?” Jim counters. “Also, call my family hay-for-brains again, and I’ll give you a one way ticket down the nearest waterfall.” Leonard chuckles at that threat, but he leaves it be.
  • They take a break near the riverbed. Jim tries setting up a campfire to keep warm. Bones uses a spell to set the wood on fire, to which Jim grits his teeth and refuses to drink the tea Leonard’s brewed. He wants none of that witchcraft water. But then when they’re both almost asleep, Jim hears footsteps approaching. Jim opens his eyes again, and is just in time to roll away and prevent his head being chopped off. “Bandits!” He calls out quickly, and loudly, and he uses his feet to kick the man closest to him backwards so he can safely get on his feet and draw his sword. Leonard’s up in a second, too. Generally, they defend themselves just fine until Jim’s face to face with another wizard. She uses a strange spell, and it makes Jim’s sword cold to the touch. Too cold to hold on to, and even after he’s dropped it, he feels it in his bones. An ice cold chill that makes him shiver and sluggish in his moves. Leonard knocks one of the bandits down with a spell, and is able to get close enough to the witch to struggle her to the ground. “Jim! There’s a truth spell in my book, read it to me, please. She might be able to tell me where to learn this magic,” Leonard says, grabbing the girl’s arms and twisting them behind her back. Jim reaches out in Leonard’s backpack and he finds the book, but he hesitates. “Here,” he says, stepping closer. “I’m a little occupied,” Leonard says, “just read it to me, you’re not suddenly a wizard for saying those words out loud.“ “I can’t read,” Jim says, and Leonard’s grip on the woman briefly falters. “What?” “I can’t read,” Jim admits, both embarrassed and annoyed. Leonard rolls his eyes, using his elbow to hit the girl in the head and knock her out. “Okay,” Leonard sighs, getting off her and snatching the book from Jim’s hands, “tie her up to the nearest tree. I’ll do this myself, then.”
  • Based on the witch’ information, they make it to the next town late morning. There, they take their much deserved rest. They eat. Jim talks rumors with the local guards while Leonard shops for herbs and potions. They’re bound to leave again the next morning, so they spend the evening in the bar. “How come you can’t read?” Leonard asks, “I’m sure the capital city had decent schools. Even for poorer lads such as yourself.” That last sentence earns him a narrowed frown from Jim. “I can read letters separately,” Jim says, “just not together. It’s like, they kind of jump out at me when I try to read words. I don’t know,” Jim continues, letting out a long sigh and shrugging as casually as he can, “I guess I just wasn’t smart enough for school.” “No,” Leonard says, and it’s surprising enough that it makes Jim frown. “No?” “No, you remind me of my daughter,” Leonard says. “Uh, is that… good?” “Yeah,” Leonard replies, “she’s smart. Has the vocabulary of someone who should be literate. But just can’t seem to focus on words. Takes extra practice and a lot of patience,” Leonard explains. Jim listens, quietly sipping his drink. He watches Leonard reach out in his bag. “That a spellbook?” Jim asks, scrunching up his nose. Leonard scoffs, nudging Jim’s elbow. “Not everything I read is spellbooks and witchcraft,” he replies, “this is A History for Kids. I carry it because it was my daughter’s favorite. Let’s give this a try?”
  • They still don’t particularly agree on which road to take, but at least things are easier now. They walk most of the day. Come afternoon, Jim teaches Leonard how to hunt with weapons. Bow and arrow, how to wield a sword, and how to strip the skin off fish and rabbit. At night, Leonard teaches him to focus on reading. Smaller words, then bigger ones. Jim still struggles, but he’s actually fascinated by the content of books. 
  • They reach the cold lands, and both carry the heavy extra weight of warm capes, fur and blankets. They can’t find an inn, but they seek refuge in the stables of an old mill. It’s cold, but at least the hay provides some warmth. Jim tries to read one of Leonard’s books, but it’s dark and it’s cold. Leonard lifts up one hand, a subtle flame dancing in the palm of his hand. “Get that out of here,” Jim says. “Are you serious? After all this time, how can you still think magic’s bad?” “Magic’s for elves,” Jim says, and Leonard huffs. “No. Magic is for everyone. Everyone has magic,” Leonard explains. “I don’t. I don’t need your magic here.” “It’s warm and it’s light, stop acting like I’m summoning the black plague,” Leonard counters. “Magic is bad,” Jim says stubbornly. Leonard grits his teeth, the flame disappearing when his hand folds into a fist. “You– are you mentally deficient? You do realize the quest that we’re on?” Leonard asks. “That doesn’t make it any better-” “This spell is gonna save your stupid kingdom, and–” Jim reaches out, half annoyed, but not nearly as much as Leonard, and he presses his lips against the other’s. Leonard grunts, taking a few seconds to actually pulling away. “What are you-” “Gotta shut you up somehow,” Jim says, and Leonard frowns, leaning in to kiss that stupid smug smile from Jim’s lips now, too.  
  • It’s a little later in the morning than usual when Jim wakes up, but he’s comfortably warm under many blankets, and Leonard is right next to him. Closer than ever, and Jim can’t help but smile fondly at him now that the other’s keeping his mouth shut. Leonard turns around, slowly opening his eyes. “Hey,” he says softly, and Jim smiles, too. “Hey. You’re finally awake.” “You don’t look any more ready to leave than I do,” Leonard says. Jim opens his mouth to protest that, but instead, he just smiles lightly, reaching out to run his fingers over Leonard’s cheeks. “Listen, what I said last night about the magic… I know it’s not all evil,” Jim says slowly, “I know you’re not evil.” “If I were, you’d be dead already,” Leonard replies, and Jim huffs. “Don’t overestimate yourself now,” Jim laughs. He sits up straight, grabbing his clothes and gathering his stuff while Leonard gets dressed, too. “You ready to get back on the road?” Jim asks, reaching out his hand towards Leonard. Leonard sighs, grabbing Jim’s hand and throwing him a small smile, too. “Finding a spell that can kill a dragon with someone who hates magic, in a cold forest full of giant spiders and angry trolls - what could go wrong?" 

anonymous asked:

The way we talk about sexual purity in church really bothers me. I believe that sexuality is so much more then just intercourse. I've been to several different churches and they all make me feel like I'm suppose to lock my entire sexuality in a box and never open it unless I get married. I don't want to have sex until I'm married. But churches act like sex isn't all over T.V. and music. I guard my heart the best I know how, but I'm not gunna act like sexuality is super evil outside of marriage.

The way we talk about sexual purity in the church really bothers me too. I think you would be really comforted and inspired by this sermon from Reality SF called “A Wisdom of Sexuality” which I talked about more in this q+a. It’s a pretty revolutionary way of understanding sexuality in relation to our faith and I highly recommend you give it a listen!

A lot of the thoughts I could give you would be coming directly from that sermon anyway haha. For instance, you’re very right that sexuality is far more than intercourse, which of course is the ultimate physical demonstration of our need for intimacy and connection. 

Sexuality is a single facet in our identity and it isn’t healthy to pretend it doesn’t exist or to demonize it until we’re married. The way a Christian should regard and engage sex is very different from the perspective and practice of the secular world, and sexuality is one of those clear aspects in life that we’re called to be in this world but not of it. The church is made up of imperfect people who are just doing their best to navigate life in pursuit of Christ, but because we are sinful, we are often motivated by fear, shame, and regret rather than freedom, hope, and renewed minds. Because of this, the church has produced a deeply flawed depiction of sexuality and it’s role in the Christian’s life. 

It isn’t that sexuality is super evil and while some shame-driven doctrine might cast this message, it’s more true to say that Christians have both personally and externally witnessed the destruction that mishandled sexuality can cause. When the sacred gift of ultimate connectedness–the greatest form of vulnerability–is engaged animalistically, it can cause great pain. We have seen what promiscuity, rape, pornography, and infidelity does to people, so while I’m not going to defend the “sex is bad”  mentality of the church, I’m also not going to defend the alluring lie of our culture that as long as there’s consent that it’s all good. Sexuality is a powerful part of us and because we are often motivated by self-gratification, this can lead to very destructive decisions and habits. 

The thing we need to take hold of in this conversation is grace, forgiveness, restoration, and the beautiful truth that virginity doesn’t make you pure… Christ does. It is Him alone, so there is no place for shame or pride. When we magnify sexuality it divides people into two groups–the righteous and the stained, but this is not the message of the gospel (which is that we are all stained and all in need of salvation which imparts the righteousness of Christ onto us); therefore we cannot let this ideology continue passing on the confusing and destructive teachings of purity culture. Sex is more than what the world tells us it is, and mishandling it does have consequences, but we should be far more interested in living in freedom and seeking God in our pursuit to having a healthy sexuality that functions in the way He intended, and this does not mean that we ignore a very real aspect of our identity. This only leads us to live in pretense until we’re alone with ourselves, and have to face that part of us, which is exactly what purity culture has led us to do. 

We are beginning to see it’s long-term effects and thankfully, a lot of our generation is drawing attention to the fact that it has robbed the church of authenticity and has established a spirit of shame that haunts us when we lay awake at night wondering if we’re the only ones struggling to be holy. And the answer is NO, you’re not alone, you’re sexuality is not the enemy, you do not have to pretend to be an asexual monk until you’re married. It’s time to call those mentalities out for what they are–complete bull crap that hinders our ability to receive the love of God and be truthful and supportive within the community of believers. That way of thinking distorts our view of self as disgusting or perverted when we were created by a God who never intended for our sexuality to be a source of fear or shame, but to make it evident that we are created for community, intimacy, and connectedness. We are not called to live in a pattern of shame, isolation, or self-conflict when we’ve been made pure and set free by the work of Christ. 

Please go listen to that podcast. 

based off of jet lag (ft. natasha bedingfield) by simple plan

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