post i will regret later about

I used to think that you had to color your drawing dark colors in the first place for it to seem like it was a nighttime scene but nOPE haha, idk have this crappy tutorial about the fastest way I found to darken your drawings without losing the color intensity. 


Will is so genuinely curious about how Hannibal thinks (look at that anxious tapping!), so happy that he’s finally found someone who sees the world as he does, and so enamoured of his new friend that every time I see this scene I want. to. punch. Hannibal. for betraying that trust and f—ing everything up. But what’s done is done and one can only hope that come S4, they will have reclaimed (as much as possible given their past history…) that place of trust, and Will will have finally allowed himself to love Hannibal as he once so easily did in those halcyon days of their blooming friendship. (S1E07 we could have had it all!!! Sorbet)

SasoSaku Month: Bad End

notes the prompt itself is very popular so i wanted my own take on it haha. this is pretty much how i would imagine the canon scenario (meaning sasori did win the fight) to play out. much thanks to the amazingly talented @simplelations who perfectly managed to capture the au in its entirety!! 

warnings body horror, dark au 

writing by @simplelations

It was a bright, clear morning in the mountains. Sasori reckoned he could almost see the towers in Iwagakure from his humble home. Only on days when the mist dissipated in the sun’s harsh rays did he think back to the annoying brat Deidara.

And then, by matter of association, did he think of his former life in the Akatsuki. He didn’t dwell on it. It never did well to linger too long with the shadows of memory, in his opinion, and he merely acknowledged things had been different a couple years ago. For one thing, the village below had not been so large.

Keep reading

Slow Dancing In A Burning Room - A Mor/Nesta Fic

This pairing has consumed and ruined me and I have…absolutely no regrets whatsoever it’s amazing. Join me in femslash heaven ladies and gentlemen. From an anonymous prompt for Mor/Nesta and ‘dancing’ (plus another thing which I am going to write but this got long enough that I decided to format and post it properly) 

Title:  Slow Dancing In A Burning Room

Summary: Mor coaxes Nesta to come to Rita’s with her but has to employ all of her charm and powers of persuasion to encourage her into a dance. Established Mor/Nesta; mixed POV, slightly NSFW. 

Teaser: Letting out a long breath, Mor folds her arms and rests her chin on them, peering up at Nesta with her best, huge, irresistible begging eyes. The kind that would have anyone pleading to do her bidding just to make her stop looking at them like that, the kind that no-one can ever possibly say- 

“No,” Nesta says flatly, without looking up from the book she appears to be attempting to read by the dim lighting of Rita’s. Amren smirks. Mor scowls.  

Link: AO3 

Mor collapses in a happy heap beside Nesta who raises an eyebrow at her over the rim of her glass that she’s delicately sipping. Amren sits opposite her and the two of them seem to be engaged in one of their typical comfortable silence sessions, which have been known to last hours. 

Glancing out over the dancers, Mor’s eyes linger on the couples she recognises. Feyre and Rhys are slow dancing on the fringes of the dancefloor, not in any proper hold, simply embracing, their lips meeting gently every few moments. Elain and Lucien are in the centre of the dancers and Elain is giggling as she stands on Lucien’s toes and allows him to steer. Cass and Azriel are nowhere to be seen, having disappeared to somewhere more private some time ago. 

Letting out a long breath, Mor folds her arms and rests her chin on them, peering up at Nesta with her best, huge, irresistible begging eyes. The kind that would have anyone pleading to do her bidding just to make her stop looking at them like that, the kind that no-one can ever possibly say- 

“No,” Nesta says flatly, without looking up from the book she appears to be attempting to read by the dim lighting of Rita’s. Amren smirks. Mor scowls. 

“Please?” Mor asks, shifting in closer to her wife and nuzzling affectionately against her neck the way she likes. 

“No.” Nesta repeats, very pointedly turning a page and just as pointedly not looking into Mor’s wide, pleading eyes.

 Amren gets up, giving Mor a smirk that very patently says ‘good luck’ before she slips off to the bar to get herself another drink, and flirt with the attractive female serving them, leaving the two of them alone together.  

“Come on, Nes,” she wheedles, setting her lip in a pronounced, miserable pout. 

“No,” Nesta says again, exhaling a long-suffering sigh this time, her eyes moving down over the page of her book but Mor is quite sure she stopped really reading the moment she got there. “You know the rule,” she says, “No dancing.” 

Mor groans and resists the urge to point out, for the thousandth time, that coming to a dance club with a rule of ‘no dancing’ is stupid. She settles instead for flopping onto the table in an outpouring of dramatic misery, head in her hands as she whines pathetically in mock agony at the stubbornness of her wife. Nesta responds by propping her book on top of Mor’s back and continuing to pretend to read with a broad smirk on her face. 

Mor growls at that and moves blindingly fast, snatching the book from her hands and tossing it onto the bench beside them, dipping in to kiss Nesta. Nesta however avoids the kiss, grumbling indignantly, “You lost my page, Mor.” 

“I’ll find it for you again later,” Mor promises, voice low and sultry as she takes Nesta’s chin between her thumb and forefinger and tilts her face back towards hers. 

Those beautiful, glittering ice blue eyes meet hers and this time Nesta allows the kiss. Mor takes her time, slow and deep and reverent. Even though they’ve been married for decades now and all of Velaris knows it, Nesta is rarely comfortable with being physically open in public. Which for the most part Mor doesn’t mind. But one of the things she particularly loves about Rita’s is that, nestled in their booth in this dark, quiet corner, she’s free to kiss Nesta as much as she likes. 

She can also slide her hand slowly up Nesta’s thigh until it’s slipping beneath her dress and wandering higher still. Nesta breaks the kiss, gasping, “Mor-” she begins, her voice a low groan, catching her wrist and stopping her. 

“You look beautiful tonight,” she interrupts quietly, voice low and rough. It’s a stunning dress, a deep, blood red, clean cut lines with black outlining and defining the sharp edges. The slit that bites deeply into it, travelling high up her wife’s legs is appealing as well. 

Nesta releases her wrist and Mor smirks and purrs in approval at being given permission to continue her exploration. She rests her head on her shoulder, eyes closing as she nuzzles at her neck, breathing her scent in deeply and savouring it. “Rules are made to be broken, love,” she murmurs in her ear, “One dance, one song. I’ll make it very worth-“ she breaks off with a low hiss of breath as her fingers travel higher still, Nesta’s thighs parting slightly beneath the table to allow her access, and she realises she’s not wearing any underwear.

Mor pulls back to look into her eyes, her own wide and tinged with the hunger that’s surged within her. “You were saying?” Nesta prompts, raising an eyebrow. Though she tries to suppress it a thin smirk tugs at the corners of her mouth as she looks at Mor.

Mor’s voice drops into a low, thrumming purr as she leans in and presses her lips against Nesta’s, pressing her next words into her mouth, “I love you.”


Smiling, Nesta kisses Mor again, more deeply this time, letting her ease herself forwards until she’s half in her lap and half on the chair, fingers plunging deeply into her hair. Breathing hard, Nesta answers her wife’s words by slipping lithely out of the booth and extending her hand in invitation for Mor to join her.

Beaming, her smile bright enough to light up the dim room around them Mor eagerly slips her fingers into hers and allows her to gently draw her to her feet and lead her towards the dance floor, trailing reverently behind her, going where she leads them.

Nesta knows that Mor loves being in the centre of the crowd, in the thick of the dancers, her body moving without thought in perfect sync with those around her, weaving in and out of all of them as though she was made for those. She comes truly alive when music plays in a darkened room and she can just close her eyes and lose herself in it and the press of people around it. But Nesta is never that comfortable surrounded by a dense crowd of shifting bodies and she halts on the fringes and firmly stops in place, pulling Mor in against her.

The radiant smile on Mor’s face doesn’t falter at all, she just sweeps her arms around Nesta and tugs her in against her, following the last, rapid, pulsing beats of the song as her body instinctively moves with them. This has never failed to mesmerise her, in all their time together, she’s always loved watching the way her lover’s body moves to music. It seems as though it sings to her blood, as though it slips inside her and takes control of her and she lets it, lets it carry her away. Nesta has never been able to find that herself, though her appreciation has grown since her stiff, irritable lessons as a girl, thanks to Mor. But she will never stop being in love with the pure happiness and joy that blazes from her wife when they dance together.  

The song ends and Mor opens her eyes and looks questioningly at Nesta, who simply hums gently and remains in hold, sloppy as it is, more adequately described as cuddling than a true hold but it does what it needs to. Mor smiles at her again, dipping down for a quick kiss just before the next one starts.

This one is different to the last which was upbeat and lively. This song begins with notes that are drawn out and echo through her bones longer than they have any right to, drawn from the instruments they belong to as if by a lover, coaxed out with deep, startling intensity. The smile that spreads across Mor’s face is slow and rich, marble wrapped in smooth velvet and Nesta watches every movement she makes as though she means to memorise every detail in order to have Feyre paint this moment later on.

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, despite the fact they’re on the very edge of the room, shrouded in protective shadows, Nesta burrows in against Mor, closing her eyes and breathing in her wife’s scent. The rich blend of cinnamon and citrus and the undercurrent of the cherry shampoo she likes is familiar to her as the sound of her own name and it always soothes her. She lets it flood her senses, drowning out everything but Mor, the heat of her skin against hers, the feel of their bodies melding together, her hands on her hips, slowly moving her in time with the music.

The song lifts into a chorus and Nesta looks up at Mor and a moment later her lips are on hers and she’s kissing her between the light pulses that flash across them for only a second before bathing them into an even darkness that seems deeper and blacker for the intense flash of light that came before it.

When she draws away from the kiss, Nesta turns Mor and presses her back against her, holding her close, any whisper of space that might have been left between them gone completely now. The music mixed with her wife’s scent is intoxicating and she just wants to live in this moment, to let it move through her and consume her and Mor until there’s only them. Mor pauses in her arms, a little stunned by the sudden change of pace but she sinks into it almost at once.

Her hands wander slowly over Mor’s sides, pulling her closer still, unable to stop exploring every inch of her body she can reach. The music swells around them, consuming every couple on the floor and that sweeps them away as well. As though they’re all caught in a river’s current, the music bears them along with it, making them rise and fall as it does, every movement striking the inescapable beat which pounds beneath the melody.

“You’re incredible,” Mor groans as Nesta leans down to softly nuzzle at her neck.

Nesta just smirks at that, “I know,” she purrs and Mor looses a slightly breathless laugh in response. A laugh that is bitten off into a sharp gasp as Nesta’s wandering hands find skin beneath the silk of her dress.

She loves this dress, the way it clings to her wife’s curves, shaping her and defining her while at the same time drenching her in elegance and mystery. The way the fabric moves with her body makes it impossible to pin her down, impossible to find any solid edge to catch a hold of. Her wife is molten, liquid that flows where and as it will, free as smoke that can never be caught or held against its will. Except for her. Her wife. For her alone she will be fixed and permanent and hers.

The thing she loves most about this dress though is how obliging the material is when her fingers find the slit in the thigh. It parts with a delight invitation, coaxing her to explore further, urging her hands to seek the warm, smooth skin they seek. “Nes-“ Mor begins hoarsely, her eyes closing as she leans back more firmly against her body, allowing her to support a little more of her weight as her legs tremble in anticipation.

Nesta huffs a soft breath against her skin when she finds a lace barrier blocking her path. “That won’t do,” she murmurs, easing the thin fabric aside to ease between Mor’s folds. Mor gasps, her head resting against Nesta’s shoulder, her eyes closed, her lips slightly part as a faint, delicious whine spreads through them both.

“Nes,” Mor groans in warning, gesturing around at the crowded dance floor but she just laughs darkly and continues with what she’s doing. She picked her spot well and she knew that Mor has been desperate for her, has been able to scent the faint tang of her arousal since she discovered her lack of undergarments in their booth and she can’t resist her. The music has built to a shattering crescendo and no-one is watching the way their bodies move, closer than any other couple, each person has eyes only for their partner and all Nesta can do is watch Mor as her eyes flutter open and reveal the pupils that have burst wide, split open to spill into the rich caramel gold that usually fills her gaze by lust and hunger.

The last note of the song echoes through the hall along with the applause and together they mask the moan that Nesta swallows with delight as her teasing becomes more intense to the point that she can’t control herself any longer.  

As the song ends Mor’s eyes flash and glitter with wicked hunger and she grabs Nesta’s wrist, tugging her hand away from where it still wanders between her legs. With a rough snarl that sends any in their way skittering out of her path, Mor takes Nesta’s hand and drags her towards the back of the room, pushing her back into a shadowed alcove, her eyes consumed by her need for her.


Pressing her against the smooth dark wood of the wall with her body Mor braces both hands above Nesta’s head pinning her down, blocking her from view of any that might pass this secluded spot. Mor tilts her head slightly to one side, studying her, the untamed hunger that shines in those stunning blue-gray eyes, the devilish little smirk that tugs at her lips and she lets out a low hiss.

“You planned this,” she says slowly, softly and she doesn’t fail to note the triumph that flashes in her wife’s eyes at that.

Mor growls low, leaning in and tilting Nesta’s chin up, giving her access to her throat which she begins to kiss. Slowly, trailing a tender necklace of kisses across it, sucking on all the right spots, biting at the soft skin until Nesta’s hands grab her hips and jolt her body harder against hers, she marvel’s at her wife’s cunning.

“Agreeing to come with me tonight,” she says, nibbling gently at Nesta’s ear. “Bringing that damned book and sitting with Amren all night,” she says, her voice lowering to a growl as one hand slips from the wall and starts pushing the skirt of Nesta’s dress out of her way. “Ignoring me,” she says, this a definite snarl. “Making me work all night to get your attention, pretending you weren’t interested and all this time…”

Her fingers find their mark, sliding between Nesta’s slick folds and it’s an effort to remain standing, an effort not to groan as she feels how wet she is. “All this time,” she repeats, struggling to find the thread of her conversation again as her self control slips. She compensates by making slow circles at Nesta’s centre, not quite where she wants her but enough to make her gasp and bite back a moan. “You were planning this, knowing this would drive me insane, that as soon as I felt this,” she drags her finger slowly through the wetness pooled between her thighs to emphasise her point and Nesta whimpers.

Leaning down again, Mor presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to her neck, biting down a little harder than before and causing Nesta to whimper. “You filthy little-“

Nesta cuts her off with a rough kiss, burying her hand in Mor’s thick golden hair and pulling her hard against her. Her lips part for her tongue and Mor can’t help the faint whimper that she presses into her mouth, her arms going slack, falling away from her as she lets herself sink in to the kiss.

“You love it,” Nesta purrs in her ear and Mor snaps.

Grabbing Nesta and pulling her hard against her she winnows them home. They vanish into nothingness as one, their beings blending together as they’re consumed by mist and smoke and they reform in their bedroom. Mor’s lips find Nesta’s once more as they allow themselves to fall, tumbling from empty space and onto their bed in a confused tangle of soft silk sheets and wicked laughter.


After having a lot of wine, drawing seems like a better idea than laying down but I can’t guarantee the results.  >.>
Aura and Syl are both herbalists, though Aura’s methods involve a lot more reading in advance before experimentation.  Syl tends to document first and read up on things after she’s pulled them all apart herself.  So my little priestess probably has a stack of books about this plant around here somewhere.

anonymous asked:

(1/2) hi whitney! i'm not quite sure why i'm talking to you about this but you're always really nice. so anyways, i've been having some mental health issues lately and as much as i love bangtan (and i love them so so much.. maybe TOO much) all the controversies surround them have been a bit triggering for me. it's to the point that i'm not sure if i'm mentally healthy enough to go to their concert. but then i think i might regret it later. so i have no idea what to do. i change my mind everyday

Anonymous said:(2/2) but i obviously don’t have that much time since i have to book the travel arrangements soon if i decide to go. a part of me also feels like i’m a bad fan if i decide not to go. ahhh i’m so stressed about this and it’s so unneccessary =/

honestly your health is way more important than any of this. in the end it’s just music and we are here to have fun. if you dont go, that doesnt make you a bad fan <333 please dont stress and take care of yourself

Anonymous said:Hello! I love your gifs! I was just wondering, what would you say is a quick way to make high quality gifs rather than having to screenshot the video frame by frame. Hope you have a good day/night! 😊

oh wow do you screenshot videos frame by frame?! you can use kmplayer to extract the frames and load them into photoshop like that. here’s a tutorial on how to use kmplayer and how to use the frames with ps

A Good Listener

(Oh hello what’s this oh right it’s a little sort of kabby drabble thing I wrote today because I have a lot of feelings about Marcus hanging out with his mother’s tree, I’m just gonna go hide now because I don’t really do fic ahhh)

Title: A Good Listener
TV Show: The 100
Ship: Marcus Kane/Abby Griffin
Rating: general

The place where the Eden tree is planted isn’t far from the Arkadia camp, but far enough that Marcus always feels vaguely guilty about going there. The trip has a strange sense of pilgrimage, an idea which makes him a little uncomfortable, and he knows his time could be better used in a hundred different ways.

But today he has the time, albeit not much of it, and he has…purpose, of a kind. So here he is, and as he approaches he feels the familiar wave of relief to see that the tree is still there where he left it. He kneels down beside it, presses his hands gently against the earth that surrounds the base of the trunk, reassuring himself that it’s firmly rooted. Then he sits back and just looks at it for a while, unsure how to begin. No matter how many times he comes here, it’s always like this at first.

Keep reading


Note-Taking Tips!

(More geared toward college students but eh)

Sit. In. The. Goddamn. Front. Row.
Yeah, whatever, I’m 90% sure none of you will do this, but at least read my explanation. This is something that my entrepreneurship prof–who has quickly become my favorite teacher/prof ever– impressed this upon me. You pay $100 per class, if not more. Get what you paid for. You won’t be as distracted, your profs will know you and see you every class, you’ll hear what they have to say clearly, there are literally so many reasons. I’ll make a whole post about this later, but right now just trust me and sit in the front row. You won’t regret it.

Take notes on paper.
Yeah, sure, it’s not the most efficient way, and probably not the neatest way, to take notes. But writing things down, even if you’re not super focused on what you’re writing, helps you retain the info. Also, if you want clean notes, you can always type them up later on your computer. In fact, I’d recommend it b/c it gives you more exposure to the info.

Date and Title your notes.
This is super important and takes exactly .28 seconds. Sometimes you’ll have a quiz and your prof will say something to the effect of, “It’s over what we’ve been talking about the past two weeks,” and if you’re that person that has to go up and ask them what exactly you did go over in that 2 weeks, they will doubtless get annoyed with you. Also, more often than not, you’ll begin new chapters before the test for the previous chapters has happened. So titling is a great thing.

Short Hand.
This. This is something that is so important, especially once you get to college. If you’re in a huge lecture hall, the prof just isn’t going to wait for you to finish writing down the slide word for word.

Legal Pads!
These have become my life since I started college. They’re the best things. I scribble some shit down on legal pads, then later organize them better and neater in a separate notebook or on my computer.

Focus on what your teacher says.
More often than not, the powerpoints you see in class will be online. If you want to be sure, go ahead and ask them before class if they will be, but most profs and teachers just do it automatically now. So write down what they say, then later go to the powerpoint and condense the two together.

And that’s all, folks! Hope this helped you out a bit, and feel free to add anything or message me with anything you think I’ve forgotten or need to add! Good luck, m’dears, you’ll do great!

About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Carlos was a scientist. Second, there was a part of him-and I didn’t know how potent that part might be-that thirsted for knowledge. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.
—  Cecil, probably

roguelioness  asked:

Alright, LadyD! For the Domesticity prompt - 20 for Aurora/Barris and 17 for Abner/Hawke! :D

I will devote this post to the first prompt and write the other – later….
This takes place after Tresspasser - but it may not be canon, think of this as just some happy domestic fluff for these two. 

Filling this prompt for @dadrunkwriting

Talking about having kids – Aurora and Delrin Barris

Aurora’s eyes flutter open, but they immediately regret it, desperately wishing she could be asleep again. Somehow however, Gidget, their pet mabari, always knows exactly the moment she wakes up. She wonders if it is a deep breath she tends to take as her eyes open for the first time in the morning. No matter what it is, the dog is drool-smiling in her face now, tail wagging, waiting to be let out.

Aurora groans, sitting up in bed with a long, marvelous stretch. She looks beside her to Delrin, blissfully still asleep and snoring softly. She sighs, mildly annoyed that he sleeps so soundly, and that it is she who always has to let Gidget out. She pulls the sheets away and groggily steps out of bed, leading her excited, happy pooch to the back door.

While she waits for Gidget to do her doggy business - you know, check her doggy mail and leave her doggy messages - Aurora wanders into the kitchen and contemplates breakfast. She finds that what she actually does is stands in front of the window over the wash basin and stares blankly outside. She’s not sure how long she was standing there, dazed into thoughts she doesn’t even remember, when she feels her husband come from behind.

“Good morning my love,” Delrin purrs a sleepy rumble into her ear. He presses his warm body against hers, wrapping his arms around her, hands traveling her curves the entire way, until they meet in the middle, and he squeezes her tightly. He trails kisses from her ear down to the nape of her neck as she hums in appreciation.

“It’s looks to be that way,” she smiles, running her fingertips down the soft, firm skin of his arms.

“You know what would make this morning even better?”

“Not again…” she groans.

“Here me out, Aurora,” Delrin says, spinning her gently to face him. He stares into her annoyed eyes. “You would make a wonderful mother.”

“And if our child was like me?”

“Then he or she would have the perfect teacher.”

Aurora sighs, rolling her eyes to look away. “I never thought I could have a family, it was never something…” her voice trails off, anxious and confused at that notion.

Delrin lightly takes her chin between his thumb and fore finger, calling her eyes back to his. “But you can. We can. We can do this together.”

She smiles softly, a small concession. He grins proudly at her in return, leaning in to brush their lips together. Quickly, their kiss gains intensity, passion sparking between the two bodies. Delrin lifts her sharply. She giggles, squealing through their kiss and wraps her legs around him. He carries her back to the bedroom.

As Delrin gently lays her down on their bed, they hear a little yip from Gidget outside. Their Marbari is ready to come in for her breakfast. Delrin ignores the call, as he delicately slides his wife’s smalls off her hips and over her thighs.

“Delrin,” Aurora says breathlessly, “What about the dog.”

He tosses Aurora’s frilly underthings to the side behind him. Leaning down and over her, nestled between her soft thighs, he kisses her deeply.  As he eases into place inside her, listening to the sharp intake of breath she takes at the feeling, Delrin whispers in her ear, “She can wait.” 

Give me Fandral and Loki friendship.

Give me pre-Thor Loki having a massive fallout with his brother and sulking outside on a bench in the gardens. And Fandral comes to sit beside him. He doesn’t bring it up, he just sits silently in Loki’s presence, because he knows Loki never likes to talk about it. 

Give me Fandral trying to mediate between them later when he can tell Loki’s ready.

Give me Fandral losing a duel to some asshole, and later Loki pulls some sort of revenge prank. Maybe humiliating the guy in public so Fandral can see, and winking at Fandral while it happens–because no one will ever know who did it except them.

Give me Fandral trying to hook up with some high class ladies. And Loki using his status as a prince to lure them in long enough for Fandral to get his charm working. Give me Fandral covering for Loki’s occasional moodiness so that neither end up on the receiving end of a (well-deserved) slap.

Give me gay!Loki wanting to come out to somebody, but not to his family, and definitely not to his brother. Give me bisexual!Fandral figuring it out and bringing up the subject authentically. Give me them experimenting? ;) (Pls.)

Give me stoner!Fandral always offering Loki his weed, and Loki always refuses–until that one time he doesn’t. Now they get high together and wreak havoc! (In their stoned-out minds, of course.)

Give me Fandral and Loki pulling pranks together.

Give me Fandral and Loki pulling pranks on Thor.

Give me Fandral and Loki chilling out at the training grounds admiring Thor’s body, because Fandral is definitely not judgmental enough to call Loki on the incest. After all, Thor is way too damn hot to worry about shit like that.

Give me Thor asking Fandral if Loki’s doing okay because Loki won’t ever answer honestly.

Give me Loki asking Thor what gift to get Fandral for some celebration because he has no idea what the typical Asgardian blond swordsman would even want. (He’s terrible and grumpy about gifts, but Fandral’s too precious.)

Give me depressed!Loki disappearing into his room for ages on end, and the first one to come knocking is Fandral. Give me Fandral inviting him to some sort of gathering or whatever to get him up and moving, but in a natural, calculated way instead of the pushiness Thor might inflict (poor souls XD).

Give me banter lasting hours into the night that’s little more than a show of wit and cleverness, while the rest of their friends lie passed out, drunk, on the couches.

Give me Loki doubting their friendship every second of the day.

Give me Fandral doing these little, almost unnoticeable things that remind Loki everything is fine between them.

Give me Loki telling Fandral his deepest, darkest secrets.

Give me Fandral telling his own in return.

Give me Fandral being the only one besides Frigga to visit Loki in the dungeons. Give me Loki, angry and hostile, ready to unleash his bitterness, but then Fandral pulls up a chair and sits with him in amiable silence … because he knows Loki never likes to talk about it.

anonymous asked:

to tomfromdenver. if someone regrets their abortion, aren't going to feel any better as a result of your condescending guilt trippy "I wish them healing" bullshit. That kind of shit just makes people feel WORSE. But you already know that, don't you? You don't actually care about them. You WANT them to feel worse. If they don't feel bad, you WANT to make them feel bad.

I have a feeling that the post-abortive people who report feelings of regret 5+ years later feel that way because pro-lifers make them feel so bad it about it all.

Abortion is not a bad/wrong thing in and of itself. The only time it would be is if it’s forced, same goes for pregnancy.

No one has the right to decide if someone else continues or terminates their pregnancy.

Did anyone else also find it incredibly patronizing that their response centered around “as a parent”? I know plenty of parents who don’t view abortion as murder, who don’t think it’s wrong, etc.

Falling, Falling, Falling

His twisted face burned into my eyes
darkness embraces me
so warm and welcoming

Falling, Falling, Falling

I lay on a bed of crimson roses
Filled with regret and sadness
I long to see you once more
If just for a moment

This is my first try at poetry… I just wrote what I felt and what spoke to me. I know its not the best but it’s my first time xD

Basically this poem is about Winter’s death, he was pushed down a flight of stairs by someone he loved. He was only 15 years old. I will elaborate more on his story later~ Please look forward to it!

Please do not re-post or re-upload with out my permission~ Thanks!

@people who get pissy when mcu doesn’t follow comic book canon to the letter, have you considered the following alternatives:

- Petting a dog

- Looking at the clouds

- Eating some toast

- Going back to your comics and being happy about interesting, alternative storylines instead of acting like you’re somehow superior to people who haven’t read them

- Taking a nap

there is 100% guarantee i will come to regret posting this later but we did advertise shoujo fics and fanart on this blog

so here have some childhood sourins (ノ^ヮ^)ノ*:・゚✧:

“Kisumi!” Rin yelled ecstatically, running towards the pink-haired boy who was standing at the school gates. Sosuke rolled his eyes and followed at a brisk walking pace.

It was a new school year and it hadn’t even been that long since they’d seen Kisumi! Give or take 2 weeks after Kisumi had gone on holiday with his parents. Before that Rin and Sosuke had hung out with Kisumi practically every day.

He’d never admit it if someone asked but sometimes Sosuke was slightly jealous of how much Rin liked Kisumi… but Sosuke was Rin’s first friend and his best friend, so he probably didn’t have anything to worry about… right?

“Kisumi! Kisumi!” Rin was giggling delightfully as he high fived the pink-haired boy who suddenly leaned in and gave Rin a smacking kiss on the cheek. Sosuke gaped.

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