this doesn't even begin to cover it

  • *News*: "Parent forgets child in the car. Child is now in critical condition."
  • Mum: How can a parent be so neglectful? The worst thing I've ever done as a parent is take the diaper bag to work instead of my purse.
  • Me: (to myself, obviously) Really? That's the worst thing you ever done as a parent? You invade my privacy by reading my journals, my texts, my emails, and by barging into my room. You yell at me about how you feel so hurt that I'm not talking to you or snuggling with you like I did when I was seven and you threaten to kick me out of the house when I am going through pretty severe depression. You shit on my dreams, you criticise what I do, you tell people very embarrassing moments of mine. That doesn't even begin to cover it. Really? That is the WORST thing you've done as a parent? Accidentally taking a Winnie the Pooh bag to work is worse than screaming at me for being a bitch when I wanted to die?
  • Me: Oh, haha!
  • We really need to stop watching the fucking news.

I’m planning to write a fic about a knb art college au where kuroko is a painting major and kagami is a sculpture major!!

ever since kuroko started studying there, people have been spreading rumors about the studio arts rooms being haunted. they say that long after everyone has left, the skrit-skrit of a paintbrush against canvas can still be heard echoing through the halls from the room at the very end of the building. kagami is the kind of sculptor who has to finish a piece in one sitting or else he’ll be too lazy to continue, so naturally he always stays late into the night. he passes by the studio arts wing to refill his water bottle one night, and he hears that ominous skrit-skrit……….

also in this au are midorima the ceramics major, kise the photography major, akashi the industrial design major, and aomine, who’s also in the sculpture faculty with kagami (and he’s that dude who always loafs around eating stuff but somehow he manages to submit all his shit on time). I haven’t decided on mukkun yet lol

if you want more details you can check out my twitter ;)

Narry: Through the Years

Sooo, the other day a Non-Non asked me this:

If you could pick one Narry moment from each year the band has been together, what ones would you choose?

To which, I said:

Hi Non-Non! I have a bit of a problem…limiting myself when it comes to choosing Narry moments. (I tried to do a ‘Top 10’ one time and it turned into ‘Top 100+ and counting’.) Soo can I bargain for like…just favourite moments? I can work with max five from each year? :)

No, I’m really not even kidding or exaggerating when I say it’s next to impossible for me to choose between Narry moments. It’s SO HARD. It’s like, every time I think I’ve got it all figured out I think of something else and then I have rearrange everything. SO, without further ado (and before I can change my mind for the millionth time), here we go:


- Narry Mullingar trip, and how they went from innocent little monkeys:

to [seemingly] naked…monkeys:

- Protective!Niall comforting Harry:

- Proud!Niall hugging bashful!Harry:

- Domestic!Narry doing laundry together:

- Possessive!Harry:


- Niall wants to hold Harry’s hand:

- Harry can’t help himself:

- Harry says Niall looks like a furby:

(and then again in 2012!)

- “Ariiii babes”:

- The day Harry Styles made Narrie hearts melt all over the world:


- Who’s the best kisser? “Niall!”

- Narry making kissy faces:

- Niall stroking Harry’s cheek:

- Flying Start; Clingy!Niall:

- Pt. 2 (because I honest to goodness couldn’t choose and this is one of the moments that had me):

- Narry talking about the time Harry got the Irish pummeled into him:


- “You have the best face.”

- “I’m in love with you, and all Niall’s little things.”

- Miami!Narry:

(Narry getting off the boat together; Niall wearing Harry’s shoes and carrying his own…)

- 1D Day!Narry:

- Ballroom dancing/falling:


- The moment ‘You & I’ became a Narry song too:

- Aria Awards:

- “I’d do Niall.”:

- Niall offering his nuts up for Harry:

- “That was for you!”


- Cake pop!Narry:

- “We are the champions!”:

- “Yes, pet?”:

- “Everything we do!”:


- Mistletoe kiss:

i’m not really in the mood to write the extremely long post i have in mind about color theory in ninjago and how it works with zane’s character (and thus proves that the zane before episode 34 and the one after it are different people)

so i just want to say something really quick:

yellow butterflies.

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  • what she says: thank u for that message <3
  • what she means: that literally just made my day so much better i have been beaming ever since i received this message i have never felt so happy i am glowing this is what has gotten me through today this and this alone i cannot tell you how thankful i actually am for it this doesn't even begin to cover it "thank u" isn't near enough but i don't want you to get creeped out and leave me if i send this to you but this message has made my day and i

don’t know if any cyndago fans follow me, but if you are, please take care of yourself. i’m so sorry that this is something that you have to cope with. i’m keeping you, and daniel, and his loved ones in my thoughts. i hope that you’re okay as soon as possible.

When They Realized That They Were in Love With You (Be My Princess Headcanon)
  • Wilfred: Smile. The moment he saw you smile, he knew he was gone. In that moment he knew everything he was and would be, was yours. He understood that everything he had ever done was to meet you. "You were mine from the very beginning."
  • Keith: Slow. He's mad all the time, and he doesn't know why. Especially when he sees you talking to Luke. Or when another nobleman looks at you for just a second longer than absolutely needed. And then when he's staring at you, he realizes he's mad because he's in love with you. And like a tap opening all the anger leaves him. "I guess if even I could fall for a commoner, than anything could happen, even us."
  • Roberto: Always. Deep down he always knew. The minute he saw you reading the tabloid and he covered your eyes, he knew. He tried to convince himself otherwise. Because he never wanted you to feel that kind of pain. The pain of being rejected because of your social status. "You're the one I want to have my mothers necklace."
  • Glenn: Before. Before he even knew who you really were he loved you. He felt a bit of guilt thinking that he was letting go of his childhood love. But he loved the you in front of him so much more. "It's always been you."
  • Joshua: Drink. The moment he handed you a red glass of wine, he knew he wanted you. He wanted your hands in his hair, he wanted you to sleep beside him, he wanted to spend his entire life with you. "Stay with me."
  • Edward: First. Love at first sight. He knew you were the one who would own his soul the minute he saw you. And for the first time in his life, he willingly handed it over to you. "May I offer you a rose my darling princess."
  • -SKY

anonymous asked:

Do you think Petyr genuinely loves Sansa? I just saw a post floating around showing in-text examples of him expressing love for her but I can't help but see it as manipulation.

Thanks for the question, Anon.

Ummm … no. I think it’s safe to say Littlefinger desires Sansa for wholly unsavory reasons, but love? No. Absolutely not. Here are just a few things Littlefinger does to Sansa that totally destroy any concept of “Petyr really loves her”.

The first time he meets her, touches her and talks about Catelyn in a really uncomfortable way:

“Your mother was my queen of beauty once,” the man said quietly. His breath smelled of mint. “You have her hair.” His fingers brushed against her cheek as he stroked one auburn lock.

Touches her again after Sansa talks to him about sending Beric after Gregor:

Sansa had no choice but to explain about heroes and monsters. The king’s councillor smiled. “Well, those are not the reasons I’d have given, but …” He had touched her cheek, his thumb lightly tracing the line of a cheekbone. “Life is not a song, sweetling. You may learn that one day to your sorrow.”

And, lest you think this is supposed to be considered normal in-universe, Sansa - who is explicitly more naive in AGOT than subsequent books - notices right away his feigning happiness in her and is made deeply uncomfortable by him:

“You must be one of her daughters,” he said to her. He had grey-green eyes that did not smile when his mouth did. "You have the Tully look.“

“I’m Sansa Stark,” she said, ill at ease. 

(just after that sweetling quote above)

Sansa did not feel like telling all that to Jeyne, however; it made her uneasy just to think back on it.

Varys was wringing his soft hands together, Grand Maester Pycelle kept his sleepy eyes on the papers in front of him, but she could feel Littlefinger staring. Something about the way the small man looked at her made Sansa feel as though she had no clothes on. Goose bumps pimpled her skin.

Though everything Sansa endures in King’s Landing in ACOK and ASOS, where is her supposed love Littlefinger? Nowhere. 

He saved Alayne, his daughter, a voice withing her whispered. But she was Sansa too… and sometimes it seemed to her that the Lord Protector was two people as well. He was Petyr, her protector, warm and funny and gentle… but he was also Littlefinger, the lord she’d known at King’s Landing, smiling slyly and stroking his beard as he whispered in Queen Cersei’s ear. And Littlefinger was no friend of hers. When Joff had her beaten, the Imp defended her, not Littlefinger. When the mob sought to rape her, the Hound carried her to safety, not Littlefinger. When the Lannisters wed her to Tyrion against her will, Ser Garlan the Gallant gave her comfort, not Littlefinger. Littlefinger never lifted so much as his little finger for her.

He also reinforces the idea that she is completely dependent on him (after he’s misled her about where their final destination is):

“You look distraught. Did you think we were making for Winterfell, sweetling? Winterfell has been taken, burned, and sacked. All those you knew and loved are dead. What northmen who have not fallen to the ironmen are warring amongst themselves. Even the Wall is under attack. Winterfell was the home of your childhood, Sansa, but you are no longer a child. You’re a woman grown, and you need to make your own home.”

I thought it was Ser Dontos, my poor old drunken Florian, but it was Petyr all the while. Littlefinger was only a mask he had to wear. Only sometimes Sansa found it hard to tell where the man ended and the mask began. Littlefinger and Lord Petyr looked so very much alike. She would have fled them both, perhaps, but there was nowhere for her to go. Winterfell was burned and desolate, Bran and Rickon dead and cold. Robb had been betrayed and murdered at the Twins, along with their lady mother. Tyrion had been put to death for killing Joffrey, and if she ever returned to King’s Landing the queen would have her head as well. The aunt she’d hoped would keep her safe had tried to murder her instead. Her uncle Edmure was a captive of the Freys, while her great-uncle the Blackfish was under siege at Riverrun. I have no place but here, Sansa thought miserably, and no true friend but Petyr.

He also emotionally (and falsely) blackmails her to keep silent on Lysa’s murder:

“Especially when we are alone. Elsewise a day will come when a servant walks into a room unannounced, or a guardsman at the door chances to hear something he should not. Do you want more blood on your pretty little hands, my darling?”

And - ugh, I just can’t with the following:

“I told you that nothing could please me more than to help you with your castle. I fear that was a lie as well. Something else would please me more.” He stepped closer. “This.”

Sansa tried to step back, but he pulled her into his arms and suddenly he was kissing her. Feebly, she tried to squirm, but only succeeded in pressing herself more tightly against him. His mouth was on hers, swallowing her words. He tasted of mint. For half a heartbeat she yielded to his kiss … before she turned her face away and wrenched free. “What are you doing?”

Petyr straightened his cloak. “Kissing a snow maid.”

She knew better than to ask what sort of tales. If Petyr had wanted her to know, he would have told her. “I did not expect you back so soon,” she said. “I am glad you’ve come.”

“I would never have known it from the kiss you gave me.” He pulled her closer, caught her face between his hands, and kissed her on the lips for a long time. “Now that’s the sort of kiss that says welcome home. See that you do better next time.”

“Yes, Father.” She could feel herself blushing.

So, to summarize: Littlefinger is a man who immediately begins treating Sansa with a level of intimacy that makes her uncomfortable, does nothing to ensure she survives the Riot of King’s Landing, blackmails and traps her so that she is dependent on him for escape from Joffrey’s murder, and demands even more uncomfortable intimacy from her after he seizes power in the Vale and convinced her that she has no one but Petyr himself. Does that sound like love to you? Because it doesn’t to me.

The Queen Regent (NFriel)

smoakd  asked:

When Felicity gets sad she curls up into a ball on the far edge of the bed as a defense mechanism. For so long Felicity has been so alone that she doesn't know HOW to lean on someone for support. She only starts to learn when she begins a relationship with Oliver. Because he does everything he can to keep her demons at bay. So when she curls up on the side of the bed, Oliver slips into bed and spoons her, almost covering her body while he soothingly rubs his hand up and down her arm. TBC

He doesn’t do this sexually, but protectively. To show Felicity that she isn’t alone. That he will fight with her, for her, until he takes his last breath. That even though she may feel the need to use certain defense mechanisms to keep the outside world away, he’ll be there to help her. To be the shoulder she can lean on. And at some point, Felicity stops curling up in the corner of the bed when the world gets shitty. She simply goes to Oliver because she finally knows she isn’t alone anymore.

(I wanted to write a blurb.)

It was nearly five o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon in the middle of spring the first time she went to him.

He was upstairs - all the windows were open, a light breeze traveling through the upper level, carrying with it the scent of fresh cut grass and the new roses Cal had planted next door - opening up the paint to finish the new nursery. The soft orange he’d started the day before was dusky in the setting sun. Oliver had just raised an eyebrow when Felicity suggested the color, but when his six-month pregnant wife narrowed her eyes at him, he wisely chose to say nothing.

Oliver heard the front door opening downstairs… and nothing else.

He’d started to recognize the signs a few months after they moved in together - the set of her shoulders, the flat look on her face, the lack of spark in her eyes… she went through the motions, greeting him, talking with him, before she retreated, coming back a few hours later as his Felicity. He’d been alarmed at first - was she sick, had something bad happened - and when he followed her, the panic already starting to kindle in his gut, he found her curled up in bed, tucked in on herself.


“I’m okay, Oliver, I just need… I just need a minute.”

After a moment of debating whether to push her, Oliver had laid down next to her instead. He wrapped his arms around her, whispering her name… and when she sniffed, curling in on herself a little tighter, he just held her.

He didn’t ask about it, he didn’t push her… he just held her.

Sometimes it lasted a few minutes, sometimes a few hours - sometimes longer - but after a while she turned around and snuggled against him, holding him back, giving him a quiet, “Thank you.”

It started happening less and less as the years went by, but they it didn’t go away; he always went in so she wasn’t alone.

The quiet downstairs was unsettling.

Oliver waited, and when silence was the only thing that greeted him, he covered the paint and stepped towards the door just as Felicity appeared. Her heels hung loose in one hand, her other arm wrapped around middle, right over the bump. Her hair was loose from the wind, strands splayed around her face in a distorted halo… 

She smiled at him, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Hi,” he said softly, waiting for her to make a move, waiting for her to say something and retreat…

Instead she stepped forward and pushed herself into his arms.

Oliver immediately wrapped her up, pressing his face against the top of her head, breathing her in. She smelled like Queen Inc. - that weird office supply smell - mixed in with a trace of her perfume, and pure Felicity; she was starting to smell a little different now, the further the pregnancy progressed. Oliver loved it.

He took another breath as she deflated in his arms with a deep sigh, leaning against him completely.

“You okay?” he whispered and she nodded, pushing her face into his chest.

She sniffled, digging her face in more, and murmured, “You smell painty.”

“Paint’ll do that,” he replied with a tiny smile, and she just nodded. Oliver tightened his arms around her. “C’mere.”

Felicity lifted her head with a, “Hmm?” and Oliver stepped back, tugging her with him. She went without resistance and he pulled her over to the over-sized rocking chair they’d found a few weeks ago. It was huge, obnoxiously so, and perfect for two people, or someone who wanted to sprawl out with a newborn infant…

Oliver sat down and pulled her into his lap. It was awkward, with her tight skirt and growing belly but they managed until she was curled up against his chest, their arms tangled, her face pressed into the nook that felt like it was made just for her between his neck and shoulder.

He’d ask in a little while what was wrong, knowing she’d tell him, knowing she’d open up to him, let him help her carry the burden, but until then…

He just held her.

When she started talking, they didn’t move until her stomach grumbled so loudly it shook the chair.

Felicity laughed, both of their hands flying to the bump, and when she looked up at him, beaming, Oliver grinned as his Felicity shined back at him.

(Beautiful Human Squad under the cut…)

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GLEEFUL GRINS: "Creepy Twins" doesn't even begin to describe these 
twisted Southern souls

01. Hail Hail - Shovels & Rope // 02. 99 Problems (Jay-Z Cover) - Hugo // 03. When Jesus Comes - Uncle Sinner // 04. Black Irish - Devil Makes Three // 05. Devil Do - Holly Golightly & The Brokeoff // 06. Pa Pa Power - Dead Man’s Bones // 07. Witches - Blackbird Raum // 08. Thiskidisnotallright - AWOLNATION // 09. Wrecking Ball - Mother Mother // 10. Devil Town - The Builders and the Butchers // 11. God’s Gonna Cut You Down - Johnny Cash

vefanyar  asked:

I could cry reading your answer on finishing things. Though I do tend to finish what I write (not always, but often), being disgusted by my writing (10+ years at it, no talent or voice to speak of) struck home... but it never would have occured to me to affirm that I'm producing crap instead of just forcing my way through a process I do enjoy but can't put on the page right and lately thought about giving up. I haven't tried it yet, but "liberating" doesn't even begin to cover this. Thank you.

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we are about to get an info overload here, and i am already dying. in the next six weeks before the ep airs:

they’re gonna drop a new trailer, prob soon-ish. we’ve got whatever intro thing at the tab cinema screening on the 7th. there’s the bafta thing on the 9th, which i’m pretty certain will include the official ep 3 title announcement and cinema screening announcement. and then there should also be a tst trailer if that isn’t already the next trailer that we get. we’ll start getting actual press about the eps including new promo pics, we’ll get at least the first ep description, the episodes will get ratings, we’ll get the bbfc info about ep 3. we’ll get the dvd cover art. we’ll prob get more interviews and bts vids from the youtube account. 

so much is coming and soon. hold on to your butts, friends.