raging bear

-For Joy-

I’ve walked this road to one like you
At night, before
Idiot I am

I’ve believed in love that thing in songs
A dance of birds
A flower sprout in flight on wind
An urgent need, belong again
Idiot I am

But here you go approaching me
A raging bear, a savage heart
A sultry night that’s blacking out
Alone in sight
Idiot you are

And here I go with rabid drool
My heart a cage, a raging scream
Unarmed you come, your hands the keys
A stroking shame, a restless bear
Afraid of me, unleashing me
To find -

And what did you think you’d find?
Armor, miraculous, sprouts from your chest?
A hallelujah chorus bowed at your approach?
Or did you envision a mad scientist
Reeling back time like fish?

Do you bait your breath for birds to sing?
Fix my hair, rearrange my brain?
Sweep up pain like I’m a dirty girl
Vacuous, brush my past like stray hairs

You want me? Then climb right in
Don’t imagine you sweep me off my feet
Get out your broom
We’re not going anywhere


(Not sure this is what you were looking for, @writteninjoy2

Between Silver Hearts

The night was pitch black, the streets empty - save for one lone figure that stumbled down the less trodden streets, holding a hand against one side of his face as blood dripped out between his finger tips. He paused for a moment in order to gather his bearings, rage swelling deep within his soul but not too much to cloud his sense of judgement - at least not yet. He wasn’t too sure though of why he was heading this way, of why he felt that he had to reach out for help. It was just another cut, another mark that would heal into a nasty scar - another reason to kill the palace bastards and place their heads on a a few spikes.

A soft crackle escaped his lips at that thought though pain was also mixed in with amusement. He swore once more and stumbled into the street where he’d last seen her before. Kisara? That was her name right? He was shit with names, shit with faces and yet that one seemed to stick in his mind like glue. Maybe it was due to the strange kindness that she’d shown him. Not that he trusted her. That’d taken much more than just patching up a few wounds - yet here he was looking for her help once more. It annoyed him but well - no choice in the matter right? And he always did as was required to keep surviving. Couldn’t kill the bastards if he was dead as well.

Was his fault anyway. He’d fallen asleep right outside where anyone could have simply murdered him. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t recognizable. Not many people around had silver hair. In fact he only knew of two. Himself and the girl who he was now seeking out. He wasn’t even sure if she lived here or not - only that was where he’d passed out before and been found by her and as foolish as an idea as it was to repeat that same pattern it was the only darn plan he had at the moment. So - minus the passing out part at least for now - he sat down and leant back against one of the low walls of a nearby house, removing his hand from the side of his face and glaring down at the blood that now marked his skin. The image of the man who’d injured him flashed through his mind and his face pulled into some type of twisted grin. He was terrible with names and faces, that was true - but those he wished to kill received special treatment.



A part of Becca was worried for Logan ever since his brother arrived from California for a visit. She barely knew Graham, but was aware that things between the two McDaniel boys weren’t on the best terms. It was like waiting for a ticking time bomb to explode. This day was no exception. Coming home from work had her feeling uneasy in her stomach with anxiety, wondering if today would finally be the day when shit hit the fan and she had a raging bear waiting for her. When she arrived and opened the front door, she felt chills down her spine.

I’m home, she announced while shutting the door once more and shedding her coat.  Logan?

anonymous asked:

8 and 9 and sterek?

8. Nicknames? & if so, how did they originate?

Well… Stiles is already a nickname, so I generally don’t consider Derek having any others for him. I’ll have characters refer to Derek as DerBear in fics occasionally, but that’s usually more a Cora/Erica thing (though I’m sure Stiles has done it a few times). That one is just because Derek is essentially a giant teddy bear, but being called that would make him a giant rage-filled teddy bear. Also, it rhymes ;) I usually just like Stiles to call him ‘Der’. I know this is scandalous, but I’m really not into Sourwolf at all. 

9. Who worries the most?

Derek. Like, they both worry a metric fuckton, but Derek worries more. Stiles has had many bad things happen to him and people he cares about, but Derek has had practically… only bad things happen to him for a very long time. He would also worry because Stiles is human–not because he thinks Stiles is ‘fragile’ or somehow unable to take care of himself, but because a well-placed bullet can take out even the most bamf. (And, yes, Derek definitely considers Stiles a huge bamf.) Anything Derek loves usually meets a terrible end, so I think he would probably be the biggest worrier :(

send me a ship and a number!

RWBY OC: Sven Ursajor

Says she doesn’t care about RWBY but here she is with OCs.

Don’t mind me, just posting some stuff on my characters since it’s about time that I did. It’s just one for now, but I’mma do the whole team. @reduxroyal and @nerdgasrnz ‘cause of that OC love, and it’s nice to share. I wanna be a cool kid too

Sven Ursajor: A seventeen year-old male with a prosthetic right arm and gifted the semblance of ‘Ursa Major’, an ability that grants him strength if allies are in peril, sort of like Yang’s rage button. His bear faunus trait can be seen as the two small ears in his permanent bedhead, so hidden from sight that others often mistake him as human. Sven is the leader of Team SUGR, and takes his role very seriously. His weapon is his metal arm, infused with different types of dusts that allows him to fire attacks, as well as getting close and personal with punches and claws. It’s pretty effective to block with. He’s armed with a brass knuckle on the other, adding ‘oomph’ to those hits. 

Keep reading

Misconceptions about ftms

-There’s a “sex change” surgery that magically makes us bio men
-We turn into raging man bears on testosterone
-We all bind our chests and pack
-We’re all straight
-We all used to be lesbians
-We can’t start hormones until 18
-We all want to start hormones/have surgery
-We’re all depressed and suicidal
-We need someone to show us how to be a “real man”
-We all want to be stealth
These are all false, feel free to add to this list