violent mind

Is anyone else really mild mannered usually but super violent minded?

 Like, someone can bump into me and I’m just like ‘oh it’s ok’ but in my head I’m like 'if you touch me one more time I’m going to shove my foot so far up your ass that the dentist will be picking my toes from between your teeth’.


“His heartbeat raged alongside the twisting and churning ocean waves slapping the shore with a violent force in his mind. Rain threatened to break overhead in the form of tears welling in Lance’s eyes. The wind howled with thoughts rushing through his head, going a million miles a second, and shook Lance’s body with visible tremors.”

(I couldn’t help myself the fic is too good, please read @sniperlance ‘s fic Heaven’s Got a Plan for You, please)

[He] often gave me books. At first, I used to read them to keep awake, then I read more carefully and at last with avidity; I suddenly became aware of a great deal that was new, unknown, and unfamiliar to me. New ideas, new impressions all at once rushed like a violent torrent into my mind. And the more emotion, the more confusion and labour it cost me to absorb these new impressions, the dearer they were to me, the more delightfully did they stir me to the very depths of my soul. They crowded into my mind all at once, all of a sudden, giving it no time to rest. My whole being was troubled by a kind of strange chaos. But this spiritual ferment was unable, was not strange enough, to throw me into utter confusion. I was too much of a dreamer, and that saved me.
—  Fyodor Dostoevsky, Poor People
Strain of Violence

Harry breathed in foul air with a grin on his face. His weapons in each hand, stained in fresh blood and material. Surrounding him, the bodies of several beings pitiable enough to try fighting him. With eyes closed, he took in the moment. The death, the madness, all so delightfully grim. “Ah, nothing beats this…”

Do we actually have to explain why some people don’t like shipping Briala with the woman who arranged her parents deaths, lied about it, let her kill someone else for it, and decided to burn down an elven settlement because of a play after she told Briala she would help the elves? Like, do we need to have this conversation at all? Who doesn’t get that this is an extremely problematic ship with an awful power dynamic?

I posted this to Facebook and I’ll post it here as well:

So, Donald Trump is going to be the next President of the United States. To me, this is no longer about Hillary versus Trump. It’s not about Democrat versus Republican. It’s about the fact that Donald Trump is who we, as a nation, have chosen as our leader.

We have elected a hate-mongering, misogynistic, Islamphobic, ableist, racist, lying, selfish, violent-minded fool to lead this country. Why? Because Trump “says aloud what everyone else is too afraid to say”. Because Trump “isn’t afraid to not be politically correct”. But if Trump is all of these things, then what does that say about us as a nation? We chose him, after all.

“Well, those aren’t MY ideals,” you might say. And maybe you’re right. Maybe they aren’t. But they’re the ideals of enough people in this country for Donald Trump to have ended up the Republican candidate over many others who were far more qualified. They were the ideals of enough people to choose to elect him as President of the United States.

These are the people who are willing to turn a blind eye to Trump saying things about women such as, “you just grab ‘em by the pussy”. People who are willing to look away from that are the same people who are willing to turn away from the girls in this country being raped every single day and then say, “Well, what was she wearing?” or “She was asking for it” all in order to protect their male, football playing rapists. “Boys will be boys”, after all. A rape accusation will ruin their career. I mean, Donald Trump is proof of that, right?

These are the people who agree with Trump’s claims that we do not have a problem with guns in this country. These are the people who are willing to turn a blind eye to the statistics that deaths by guns in America are far higher than they are in most other countries in the world. These are the people who are willing to forget the 15 people who died at Columbine, the 33 at Virginia Tech, the 28 (most of whom were children) at Sandy Hook, the 50 in Orlando, and the countless others who have fallen victim to gun violence.

These are the people who agree with racist claims that minorities are violent drug dealers and rapists who need to be removed from this country. And yet, they’re willing to look away from the rape allegations against Trump himself. They’re willing to look away from the insanely high amount of African Americans who are being shot and killed by white, male cops, and then claim that police brutality isn’t an issue—all the while having the audacity to shout, “All lives matter”.

These are the people who agree with Trump that Muslims are dangerous radicals. These are the people who cry for religious freedom, and yet cower in fear at the sight of a woman wearing a hijab simply as an expression of her faith. These are the people who claim that the legalization of gay marriage and abortion is unfair to the Christian faith, but then claim that Muslims don’t even belong in this country and should return to countries that they didn’t even originate from.

We as a country don’t care about anybody but ourselves. As long as we and the people immediately connected to us are safe and privileged, then we could care less about those who are suffering. We don’t care about the people who will be removed from their homes. We don’t care about the women who are going to be raped and ignored. We don’t care about the African Americans who will be the victims of police brutality. We don’t care about the sick and dying who can’t afford proper healthcare. We don’t care about the people who are struggling to get by on food stamps. We don’t care about the homeless veterans living on the streets. We don’t care about the LGBTQ+ community who have struggled for years against violence and hate. We don’t care about the women who want the rights to their own bodies. We don’t care about the countless innocent both in America and outside of America who will be victims of Donald Trump’s violence. As long as it doesn’t directly affect us, we could care less.

Yes, neither candidate was perfect. I dislike Hillary Clinton just as much as many other American citizens do, and I’m sure if she had won I wouldn’t have had the best things to say about her either. But that doesn’t matter anymore. At the end of the day, she did not win. Donald Trump did. His ideals are the ones America wants our leader to have because they’re the ones that align with our own.

I could go on and on, but there would be no point in wasting my breath any longer. Tonight we have elected a fool. We’ve elected a man to give nuclear weapons to who can’t even handle a Twitter account because he’ll “make America great again”. But if these are our moral grounds as a nation, since Donald Trump apparently “says what everyone is thinking”, then we really shouldn’t be surprised by the results. The entire world is laughing at us right now. I hope you’re happy America.

An ordinary life for a strange guy

Harry stood in a store, hand on his chin in deep thought. In front of him was the bread aisle, with sales and bread of all kinds on display. In his hand was a bad full of wheat bread, white bread, and cinnamon bread. “Should I get a bagel, or another loaf…”

anonymous asked:

hey i don't mean this to come off rude, i'm just genuinely curious.. how do you know Harry snaps at you when he's tired , frustrated etc?

I don’t know. Not at all. It’s all just speculation. I don’t think that he’s really mean about it, nor do I mean that he’s violent when he does so. I think that he’s probably short with you. 

Maybe if you ask him what he wants for dinner, he’ll bite back with “I don’t care.” 

Say that he’s got an early flight and you’re helping him get his things around - truly only trying to be helpful - asking him if he’s got this or that so he doesn’t end up forgetting things like he always does. He keeps responding with short answers like “Yes,” or “Yeah,” or “Yep,” “Don’t know,” because all he wants to do is leave for his flight and if he forgets something, he’ll just buy another. You end up getting frustrated because all you want to do is make sure he’s good to go.

“Next time I’ll just say in bed, then,” you grunt as you leave the bedroom, going downstairs to the kitchen to start coffee. When you’re up, you’re up. There’ll be no use in trying to get back to sleep now, especially with how annoyed you’ve become.

You hear him walk down the stairs with his luggage, and you’re grumpy with him, but you still want to say goodbye, because you won’t see him for a few weeks and it’s always more difficult than you remember it to be, going without him.

He enters the kitchen, his hair still wet from the shower and his carry-on over his shoulder. He sighs deeply, mumbling about this or that. Walking up to you with dragging feet, he wraps his arms around your shoulders so your face is stuffed into his armpit, which makes you smile, although you can’t help it.

“’m sorry, love,” he mutters into your hair, still messy from sleep. “Know you’re jus’ tryin’ t’ help. Y’know how I can get.” And he pulls you tighter, trying to memorize how you feel in his arms so he can hold onto that sensation for the next couple of days (which are always the hardest for him at first - it’s tough to get used to not waking up beside you, not being able to hug you to him in the middle of the night, not kissing you whenever he wanted).

“I know,” you pull back a bit, resting your chin on his chest. “Just wanted to make sure you’re all set to leave.”

“Gonna miss ye’, pet.” He bends to kiss your forehead, leaving a trail of puckered lips down to your nose. “Sorry ‘m such a prat.”

Restless Hearts, Words Grooved

We’re the runners, restless,
Heaving fear, fest of lies
Whispered in kindling hearts
They’ll write about us
They’ll sing our song out loud
By fires on the beaches
They’ll memorize our words
Violently etched on their minds
But they’ll lie, tracing grooves
They’ll say it’s their own


An afternoon stroll.

Two friends were wandering down the street one night. Both were looking for some kinda trouble, or someone weak lookin. They chatted to each other about their respective lives, mundane as ever. If you ignore the mentions of them stealing and killing people. One of them bumped into a guy wearing a dark brown coat, their hood up enough to shadow their face.

“Watch where you’re going asshole.” The hooded guy spoke in an annoyed tone. “You could bump into something scary, heheh.” The hooded man got a fist to his face as reply. Knocking him down to his back so the responder could stomp on his stomach.

The hooded man coughed wetly, following it with a bitter laugh. “Well finally, someone interesting.” The two men started to speak, only for the hooded man to leap up to his feet. A sword appeared in his hands for a second, as in the next his victims were beheaded.

Harry sighed to himself as the bodies fell over. “Nevermind, you both are awful at this.”


Where I got there the day and the night were already fighting with each other. Though, this battle obviously prepared the dead end for the day it still had hope that this time it’ll win.

I looked around and honestly… I was scared. The thought that I was alone in a dark forest suddenly occured in my mind. Violent wave of heat and dizziness hit me. I felt as my body was slowly drawn by it. I felt ashamed that my fingers were covered with sweat - and it only made me feel worse. Tears appeared in my eyes out of nowhere. I was so light headed that I felt that I’m going to have a very close meeting with a ground soon. I was scared, I was so scared. I didn’t thought about it at all. I only wanted to see Eirl. I… I had to be sure that she’s safe… I didn’t want to lose her… Huh? Why this world became so fuzzy all of a sudden? Why it’s spinning around me like a moth around the light?..

Then I’ve heard a song which dispersed all my thoughts and fears.