this would be yes


it’s… LONELY.  to be more powerful than any man you know, and have to live like a shadow.  to be SPECIAL, and have to pretend you’re a fool.  i know how it feels, i… understand.   /   IND. MERLIN FROM BBC MERLIN,  WRITTEN BY MARTA   /   WARLOCK

non - rp blogs please do not reblog !!

if i kill myself its gonna be with sleeping pills but before i do that im gonna buy a FUCK ton of big fucking bass boosters. like gigantic speaker thingies you know what i mean. and then im gonna let the german naruto opening play on repeat while im dying its gonna be so fucking lit

So Long as You’re Safe, I Don’t Care What Happens to Me

He knows it’s not good, knows that the pain throbbing in his side means nothing good for him, but you’re still at his side, sweat smeared over your forehead and red cheeks, lips parted as you gasp in deep breaths and cough out the dust floating in the air.

He knows he’s probably going to die if he doesn’t stop to rest, but the bullets are still coming, rattling against the oversized safe he’d dragged you behind, and you’re still here, bleeding from three different cuts and begging him to keep moving.

He grabs your hand, blood soaked palm slipping when he yanks you forward.

“Are you hurt?” You question, voice rising in panic, but he just shakes his head, pushing you in front of him, shoving you toward the back door and toward the get away van that should be waiting to pick you up.

“Wait. Wait!” You shout, words high-pitched as you reach for him. A bullet whizzes past you, leaving a crater in the wall behind you and his breath catches in his throat.

“Go, you need to go,” he says, grimacing and reaching for the hole in his side.

You shake your head, eyes wide as you duck behind a desk, pulling him with you. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

He swallows his fear, darting up to peer at the enemy. “You don’t have much time.”

Your fingers scrabble to lift the hem of his plain black tee, soaked, you notice, with blood. Your stomach turns at the sight and he can see it in your eyes, can tell that his instinct was right. He’s going to die.

God help him if he lets you face the same fate.

He shoves your hands away, tugging the hem back down and meeting your panicked gaze.

“We have to get to the medic, he’ll know what to do. He can—he must know—”

He shakes his head, “It’s too late for me. But not you. You can still make it.”

Your mouth opens and closes. “No, no. I’m not leaving you here.”

He fights the urge to roll his eyes at your stupid stubbornness. Something he’d fallen so desperately in love with is nothing more than a terror-inducing flaw right now. “Go. The van should be outside. I’ll hold them here.”

The wood of the desk splinters, slicing his forehead as the fragments fly through the air near you. “I can’t—”

“Go!” He shouts, spinning on his heel, cocking the near-empty pistol in his hand.

You grab his hand, ready to protest.

He turns back to you, heart shattering because he knows this is the end, knows that he will never spend another moment laughing with you, reveling in the feeling of knowing he was the reason you were happy. It kills him as much as he thinks is possible.

But he doesn’t have time to worry about the blood leaking from his side or the future he’s abandoning, not when you still have a chance to escape.

Blood streaks across your cheek as he places a hand on it, pulling your toward him and into a desperate, hot kiss. You can taste the blood leaking from a cut in his lip and the salt from his sweat, but you don’t pull away, your own heart breaking and stomach turning. This isn’t a good-luck kiss or a let’s-hope-we-do-this kiss.

This is a goodbye kiss.

His eyes well with tears as he breaks the kiss off, leaning his forehead against yours, shaky breaths escaping his cracked lips and stinging the cuts in your chin. “I love you, I love you so much.”

Before you can say it back, he’s shoving you away, letting you fall to the cool tile so he can face the enemy, dart out from cover, pistol drawn, tears streaking through the dirt on his face.

He doesn’t see you leave, just hears you scream his name, but you’re too late, he’s there, shooting them down, leaning against the cool metal of the safe, praying you listened, praying you left.

When the enemy finally reaches him, he’s out of bullets and pale, so pale the enemy wonders aloud, asking if he’s a ghost. It’s a joke, one he can muster a smile for.

“You wish,” he mutters, shaking so hard he can hardly control his hand as he reaches inside his pocket.

“I don’t doubt you will be soon,” the enemy says, a sneer on his lips as he reaches forward to poke at his broken nose.

“So will you,” he murmurs, forcing his eyes to focus on the ugly sneer, the ugly expression.

“You think? You don’t think I’ll reach your girl? Don’t worry, you won’t be a lonely ghost for long.”

He spits out blood, letting it trickle down his chin as he musters all of his energy. There proves to be just enough for a quick thrust, a jab to the stomach, but it’s all he needs: he knows where the organs are.

The enemy stumbles back, cursing, mouth gaping, but it doesn’t matter, he’s done it. The enemy will die in a few short minutes, and you’ll be safe. For good.

He slides down the side of the safe, eyes fluttering shut, breaths shortening, pain fading.

He breathes out, head thumping against the safe once. He did it.

He did it.

The world spins, even with his eyes closed, and he wonders vaguely if you made it out, if you can finally leave this life. For a moment, one too short for his liking, he can hear your laugh, pealing like the church bells that woke him every Sunday, and a faint smile crosses his bloodied lips.

He’s saved. You’re here with him, kneeling next to his side, eyes rolling as you berate him for being so reckless.

“I love you,” he murmurs, laughing the slightest at how kind the words are in his mouth.

“And I love you, you idiot,” you mutter back, that wondrous smile that steals his breath away lighting up your face.

“Never leave me,” he says, breathless, “never. Never, I… I love you so much. I love you. I…” The world shuts down on him, fading into a bright, blinding white that envelopes everything but you.

His last breath is spent on you, on your life together, and when he finally gives up, lets himself let go, he doesn’t realize he’s dying utterly alone.

anonymous asked:

How do you think George would react to a first year trying to steal from WWW? (Ik this is a weird question)

i. at first, when the charm went off, letting out a wail throughout the store that someone had stolen something, george is angry. he’s very mad. this is only his first week back after fred passed away and he doesn’t want to deal with a theif. 

ii. he descends on the child and sees a little girl close to tears. someone who reminds him an awful lot of ginny when she was eleven– dirty clothes that are a little too ill fitting. lots of patches. 

iii. he takes a deep breath and motions her to a quiet corner and removes the charm while ron works the register. 

iv. ‘what’s your name?' 

'eliza sir.' 

'what were you doing?' 

she bursts into tears and he crouches in front of her, letting her work it all out. it sounds like she’s saying sorry, but it’s not quite intelligible. 

v. 'you know eliza, you’re dressed a lot like i was when i was a kid.' 

she looks confused, 'but you’re rich.' 

'mmhmm. but i was very poor growing up. i had six siblings and my dad didn’t make much. but you know what?' 

'what, sir?' 

'i never stole from a shop.' 

vi. her lip wobbles again, and he realizes he’s seen her almost every day over the break to come look around the store and fiddle with the products on display. 

'where are your parents?' 

'it’s just me and my nan– my parent’s aren’t around anymore.' 

vii. 'alright– well we could use an extra pair of hands around here. would you like to work with us?’ obviously she can’t do much if anything at all, but if it’s alright with her grandmother, staying at a shop with adults instead of running all around the alley was much safer. 

viii. she looks surprised, 'really?' 

'really– but you have to bring your nan here, so i can talk to her and get her permission, alright?' 

ix. george plucks the product out of her hand, 'you can buy this, when you’ve saved up money, alright?' 

'yes sir.' 

'good– now go get your nan.’

Deku, once again rendering Todoroki awestruck 

(they’re 2nd years and Deku updated his wall to balance out his motivations)


TBH if someone was making me live in some strange isolated place for an indefinite period of time…gotta take the essentials.

There they are!!!!!!! 

Write-O-Ween Prompts: Unusual and Rare Words Edition

As practice for the famous NANOWRIMO, a prompts list of unusual and rare words! I’ll try writing them: will you?

  1. Uncanny: strange or mysterious, especially in an unsettling way
  2. Chimerical: merely imaginary; fanciful
  3. Susurrus: a whispering or rustling sound
  4. Aubade: a song greeting the dawn
  5. Ephemeral: lasting a very short time
  6. Sempiternal: everlasting; eternal
  7. Euphonious: pleasing; sweet in sound
  8. Billet-doux: a love letter
  9. Pluviophile: any organism that thrives in conditions of heavy rainfall; one who loves rain, a rain-lover
  10. Redamancy: act of loving in return
  11. Lachesism: the desire to be struck by disaster; to survive a plane crash, or to lose everything in a fire
  12. Rubatosis: the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat
  13. Nodus Tollens: the realization that the plot of your life doesn’t make sense to you anymore
  14. Opia: the ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable
  15. Monachopsis: the subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place
  16. Énouement: the bittersweetness of having arrived in the future, seeing how things turn out, but not being able to tell your past self
  17. Skulduggery: devious behavior
  18. Tatterdemalion: raggedly dressed person; looking disreputable or decayed
  19. Athazagoraphobia: the feeling of being forgotten, ignored, or replaced
  20. Oblivion: the state of being completely forgotten or unknown; connotes feelings of isolation and aloofness, which lead to the annihilation or extinction of the self metaphorically
  21. Abditory:  a hiding, safe place to disappear 
  22. Hiraeth: the homesickness for a home you can never return to; a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past
  23. Fernweh: the ache for distant places; the craving for travel
  24. Sonder: the realization that each passerby has a life as vivid and complex as your own
  25. Kenopsia: the eerie, forlorn atmosphere of a place that is usually bustling with people but is now abandoned and quiet
  26. Kuebiko: a state of exhaustion inspired by acts of senseless violence
  27. Quiddity: the essence or inherent nature of a person or thing / an eccentricity; an odd feature / a trifle; a nicety or quibble
  28. Wayfarer: a traveler, especially on foot
  29. Nepenthe: a medicine for sorrow; a place, person or thing, which can aid in forgetting your pain and suffering
  30. Gloaming: defined as twilight and dusk; the day’s end, the glittery, transient echo when time and nature meet
  31. Eunoia: literally meaning “beautiful thinking” / FREE SPACE