when i move a certain way

Memories and Heirlooms

I’ve talked before how I use memories in witchcraft in order to envoke certain types of energy. Here is another way I believe it can happen. 

My grandma is moving - to a house across the street from my parents - and she is going through her house to pack and get rid of stuff. She wants to get rid of as much as possible so that there is less work for us when she passes, which we don’t think is going to be anytime soon. But I think it’s nice for us to be able to choose how we want to remember her by while she is still around to tell us the story behind it. 

My grandma isn’t a witch, but damn can her shit be used in witchcraft. I’m getting first dibs on most of this stuff - mostly because I’m around but also she doesn’t think any of the other grandkids would be interested. 

First, she has a bunch of sets of teapots/vases/dishes/??? so if I took one I had take all of them. At first I just took one set, but then the other had yellow roses, which are my mom’s and grandma’s favorite flower, so I had to take those too. I also took five or six of my great-grandmother’s teacups and may get more if nobody else wants them. 

I also grabbed a little owl figure because since I can remember I saw these scattered around her house. She told me that some people believe that, like gargoyles, owls protect houses. My grandmother keeps a gargoyle in every single room, which isn’t going to change when she moves, but she did say that when she dies I can have all of them too. So we packed up all of these in a box and put it away until I can get an apartment.  

Then I saw this little object - see the picture above - that matched her candle holders. Turns out it was a cone incense holder! So I had to take all three of those. 

Finally, when we thought we were done, she mentioned that all of the candles in the kitchen are going too. So now I have several more candles, a tealight holder, and a wax warmer? I don’t know what they are actually called, the things that melt smelly stuff, you know what I’m talking about. 

I’m really excited to be able to have all this stuff with me when I get my first place. I can just imagine burning candles and incense out of my grandmother’s holders and planting houseplants in her pots and having the little bit of her that believed in magic give them energy.

That’s the power that I believe in. 

so the post is, a mess of agreement/disagreement and misunderstanding, jokes on me but i was anticipating this 

 i was only speaking in perspective of someone part of the LGBT+ community because thats the only part i can speak for, and even then i still cant speak for everybody in that community 

and just clarifying cause people didn’t check back the original post i was in no way saying that things shouldn’t be criticized, my only point was that tumblr tends to make things either on a good or bad side most of the time with no in betweens, i wasnt saying people are asking too much when they want to criticize important issues and ofc people have a right to feel uncomfortable with certain things

but tumblr just tends to be in a black and white range a lot of the time is my main point 

everybody commenting whether they agree or disagree make good points both ways, i wasnt looking to fight with anyone and obvs not everybody agrees with the opinion because its impossible to have everybody agree with you, so im just gonna stay cool and move on with it 

I guess what I’m trying to say is,
If I never see you again,
I hope you at least think of me from time to time
When that song comes on in the car,
Or the sun breaks through the windows a certain way
I hope it makes you smile,
And somewhere,
I hope you are grateful too
—  “Untitled” by Meredith Grace @blatantwritings
Rocknaldo Theory/Rant

Did anyone notice that this episode was literally directed at the fandom?
“Who are you to tell anyone how to be a Crystal Gem? You’re just a guy with a blog!" 



The way Ronaldo was criticizing everything, about Connie and Steven not being "crystal gem” enough, is kind of what the fandom does, criticizing every little thing about the characters and the way the plot is developing.


 Steven says “Bloodstone” is being selfish and just wanting things to happen to please himself. 

 I really felt like Steven was talking to us as the fandom too when he said “ This is my life! Do you even care about that?” 

The fandom kind of demands certain things, like the pairings that are "acceptable” The way the fandom freaked over Zuke drawing a “Lapidot” Picture… The way people analyze and over analyze every aspect of the show, getting angry when episodes are “filler” and demanding the plot move forward.

I think what Steven and the crewniverse were trying to say in this episode was summed up well.

 The show is about him, not us. It’s about Rebecca Sugars vision, not about what we think is right or wrong.

This fandom should be about love and acceptance.

That’s what it’s all about, guys. That’s what drew us all to this show in the first place.

Believe in Steven

I don’t think Rey is “attacking” Luke.

Hey guys! Just wanted to point something out real quick. (excuse the mess, i made this at 6am before school.)

In my 6 years of experience in video editing I noticed the shot of what Rey seems to be holding up her lightsaber to attack Luke, is actually reversed. Let me show you.

This is the shot in the trailer.

Now, it can be very difficult to see, but I want you to look VERY up close at how her face and chest move. It’s very wonky, lags in body movement, and just overall doesn’t look right. Her facial expression doesn’t change in a natural way. Her hand moves in a reversal way that also isn’t natural. This particular scene they picked makes it a little difficult to see, but there’s a certain “effect” when it comes to reversed scenes that you have to look out for, and this scene has got it. Her facial expression also doesn’t match what she’s doing. She’s “attacking” someone yet she looks relieved like she’s about to talk to somebody, or she’s thinking about something. It’s just a very non-aggressive expression that is way too blank to be fighting somebody. Compared to how angry we’ve seen Rey in TFA and the TLJ trailer, this is NOTHING.

This is the same shot in I put in reverse.

It doesn’t look wonky at all and has accurate natural body/face movements, everything matches together unlike the previous shot. She’s reacting in a natural way. This is the correct scene in the movie.

So, essentially, she’s putting her saber down for someone she was PREVIOUSLY planning to attack. While the scene with Luke still looks like it’s at the same moment, in my opinion it’s more likely she’s putting down her saber for Kylo, especially since many leaks said they were going to have a conversation. We already know they’re going to be on Ahch-To together for sure.

I understand there’s also leaks/rumors about Rey fighting Luke, but my theory is that Kylo came to Ahch-To, and when Rey tries to fight him, he says something to her to calm her down/interest her, and they go in a hut to talk.

This scene probably wouldn’t be Rey training with a lightsaber just beause of the context of how the scene looks, also she has her hair down.

Alas, who really knows!

Break Me [Draco x Reader, One]

A/N: Haha let me start off by saying I honestly don’t believe Draco would be the cheater type, but I love angst and I love Draco so ,,, Also!! Don’t know if anyone would be interested, but I’m probably going to make a separate Hamilton Imagine blog!! I love Hamilton and all the characters and all of the cast members! Anyways, enjoy!! Love you all!!

 

Word Count: 1,636

 

Warnings: Angst. Cheating. Self blame. Cursing.

 

Summary: (Name) gave everything to him, but he wasn’t willing to give back.

 

Requested: No lol im a jerk


Chapter Two / Three / Four / Five


Masterlist


Originally posted by daz-zling-bling

The sight of (Name) and Draco Malfoy turned heads. The mere thought of (Name) and Draco Malfoy turned heads.

(Name), perhaps the most loyal, caring, and kind girl anyone would ever know somehow ended up head over heels for Draco Malfoy. She would follow him around, a sweet smile never faltering. He would look pretty content with himself, arms linked with (Name’s) own. It didn’t take much to realize that (Name) was very attractive in a dreamy, almost fantasy like way. In fact, multiple men and women had asked for her affections. She only replied with a sweet smile and a polite rejection, claiming she already had a boyfriend.

Draco was no idiot. He knew that many people wished to have his girlfriend for themselves.

At first he merely got jealous at this. How dare someone fantasize over his girlfriend?!

As days grew into weeks, and weeks grew into months, his jealousy turned into pride. She was another thing he had that many people, including Harry Potter, didn’t have.

The two started off hopelessly in love. Starry eyes and rosy cheeks were exchanged. Longing looks and sweet messages were sent back and forth.

Over time, Draco became more and more distant. However, (Name) stayed the same, remaining completely infatuated with him. Draco, from a first glance, didn’t seem to be as in love with (Name) as she was with him. 


The First Month.

 

Of course, like many couples, (Name) and Draco had a phase where nothing else seemed to matter but the two of them and their love for each other. It was almost as if they couldn’t be apart from one another or they would fall ill.

“Draco! Draco, come here!” (Name) chirped with the same giddy smile playing at her cheeks.

“Yes? (Name), what is it? Are you injured?” His voice was frantic and shaky. (Name) laughed and shook her head. “No, silly!” She spread her arms out wide. “Come here!”

Draco did so with a smile, leaning into her embrace. “What is all this about?”

“Mmm… Nothing, really. I just wanted to cuddle you. I love you, you know?” Draco chuckled softly and wrapped his arms around her, closing his eyes and savoring the feeling of his beloved breathing softly into his chest. They didn’t seem to notice the dozens of students amongst them stare in disgust, envy, or even admiration.

“And I love you, (Name). Always.”


The Seventh Month.

 

While (Name) was in fact hopelessly, blindly in love, she was no idiot. She noticed when Draco avoided her affections or avoided her in general. She didn’t pay much attention to it, though. She assumed she was being clingy, and her herself was at fault. Sometimes the two would be together, a joyful smile ever present on (Name’s) face. But she noticed they only ever seemed to be affectionate around each other in front of crowds.

The thought that Draco may be using her crept in the back of her mind. He wouldn’t, would he?

No… He couldn’t. He loved her.

At least… That’s what she told herself.

Keep reading

cunningtype-deactivated20160902  asked:

You pulled me into Drarry hell with your amazing and lovely drawings and I have to thank you for that??? Like I finally understand what was missing in my HP experience. Also I'd like to ask what your headcanons were for Harry's and Draco's tattoos? Draco got muggle ones while Harry's can move and I really want to know more about them. Like how many are there? The motives and reasons behind them? Ahh, just thank you so much for sharing your art, i love you.

thank you so much! I’m glad I helped you find your missing piece :’)

and since it’s not the first time I get asked about their tattoos, I decided to answer this one publicly and with pictures. please note that I’m no tattoo designer though, haha.. anyway:

I really enjoy the idea of post-war draco getting to know muggle world that he used to hate blindly because of his upbringing and because of being isolated from it his entire life. exploring technology and muggle pop culture, wearing fancy muggle clothes - I love thinking that he would challenge himself to try all that. that’s why I also enjoy the idea of him getting a still muggle tattoo. it’s a dragon tattoo in a blackwork style (the reasoning behind this is simple: I just love blackwork tattoos a lot, I think they’re really aesthetically pleasing) on his right arm. it sort of supposed to mirror and oppose his dark mark: he got the dark mark as a symbol of loyalty to someone, which proved to be a wrong choice, so he gets a dragon that symbolizes his loyalty to himself (does this make sense. I suck at explanations).

also a bird tattoo on his neck for no other reason that I hc him as a person who loves birds (shoutout to half blood prince movie, ay).

now about the dark mark! I’ve seen a few different interpretations of what he might do to it after the war’s over and, seeing as I’m a sucker for angst, my favourite one is that he got it scarred either when he tried to get rid of it with some dangerous magic or due to self-harm.

(fun fact: not everyone knows that apparently inactive dark marks are not black, as often depicted, but red)

my second favourite is more positive, it’s the one where he accepts his mark as it is and tattoos something over/around it. for example, flowers

(not that I’m completely against the idea of him getting wizarding tattoos though, for example, I really love his moving tattoos in this fic)

now, harry. harry, on the other hand, must be fascinated with a concept of moving magical tattoos that react in a certain way when you touch them so I thought he’d definitely get one or two. the first one is a snitch that flutters across his body, and if you manage to “catch” it, the “I open at the close” words appear above it.

and right above his heart is a lily flower bud tattoo that blooms when touched. in memory of his mother, of course

(ft horcrux scar)

he’d probably get a muggle one as well. something like this, maybe? stag antlers, a black dog and a wolf since I totally see him as that kind of person who gets tattoos in honour of people who are/were dear to him

I’ve also seen a plenty of fanarts where they have more tattoos, like entire tattoo sleeves, for example, and the ones where their tattoos don’t have any deep meaning within them, and as a person who believes that tattoos don’t necessarily have to be deep and meaningful if they are beautiful, I quite enjoy those too actually

wow this was long and incoherent sorry I’ll. see myself out now haha

thexenobiologist  asked:

Your recent post about touch tanks reminded me of something I've always wondered: why do the sharks and rays in them actively seek out contact? They don't just seem to coincidentally bump into hands or only go after food, so what makes them want to get touched?

For years, I’ve thought, if I had a research grant, this would be what I would study. The behavior of sharks and rays in touchpools. 

Where I was proctoring them, we were taught we could never say that the sharks and rays ‘liked’ the interaction. All the species in the tank were eusocial species by nature - cownose rays live in large schools, and the smaller reef sharks are often found in fairly high concentrations in the wild and go as far as to sleep in piles in the mangrove roots. So, the messaging we were taught was that the rays and sharks didn’t find soft contact with human hands inherently negative because they were used to casual social contact from conspecifics (in contrast to like, solitary pelagic sharks who only get touched by food, mates, or things trying to eat them). As far as messaging went, I liked that way of doing it, because it wasn’t anthropomorphic and it allowed us to do some education about the natural behaviors of our animals while we explained. 

Except for that part where, as a behaviorist who ended up spending a lot of time at that touch tank (it was the only one I could work for a period of time when I had an injury I couldn’t get wet) that really obviously wasn’t the whole story. I started noticing the same animals coming to the front repeatedly, and slowing down and rising up under certain hands (generally still, flat, calm, mid-way down the water) while they’d dive deeper under others (generally children’s hands, ones moving a lot, or those that were hovering just out of the water). I watched rays rostrum-bump hands that they’d slowed down under but that hadn’t reached down to pet them, and I watched other rays specifically circle back to a couple of hands multiple times - sometimes to the point of circling back as soon as they were out of reach. There was obviously something going on in terms of preferences and decision making with the fish and the hands they chose to interact with, but no amount of casual observation and anecdotes does a scientifically valid hypothesis make. 

Point is, I don’t think we know. I personally believe that in really well designed tanks like the one I worked, where they had a huge amount of non-touch area and depth and current and natural habitat to spend time in, that there was definitely some preference for interaction with hands that behaved a certain type of way. I can’t tell you why and I’ll probably never have the money/time to take over an entire touch tank and quantify that hypothesis, though. 

A Fighting Chance (Dylan O’Brien smut)

Summary: you’re the personal trainer for American Assassin and grow close to one of the stars. (Verrrrry close)

Word Count: 8.3k

Warnings: this spirals into smut! I also have a filthy mouth so beware of multiple curses throughout.

A/N: Dylan mentioned needing a trainer for American Assassin and my first thought was ‘hot sexy Dylan sweating over a punching bag’ and so this baby was born lmao. I’ve not had the opportunity to see the film, so I’ve sort of made up what I assume the types of things are that they did. I also have no idea what order they shot the film in, so just went along with the natural progression of this plot!

PSA !!! This mentions nothing of his accident on The Death Cure. I don’t feel it’s right to write about or romanticise Dylan’s trauma, so you’ll never find it featured in my pieces! 

**In case it isn’t obvious, every time there’s a line break, that indicates a small time skip. During that time, Y/N and Dylan grow a little closer.**

Happy reading! :)

Originally posted by thatonekimgirl

“Harder!” You called out, watching Dylan’s shoulders shake. A sheen of sweat covered his upper arms, accentuating the powerful movements of his biceps.

Hearing your words, he groaned loudly. “Oh, c’mon, Y/N. I’ve been at it for,” he paused, face screwing into a grimace, “at least an hour. Please give me a break,” he whined. Despite the complaints, he continued his actions.

Rolling your eyes, you stepped forward and grabbed the punching bag, stopping his workout abruptly. “It’s been barely ten minutes,” you deadpanned, “and you’re still doing it wrong! May I?”

Dylan nodded so you moved forwards. Grabbing his bandaged hands, you worked quickly to adjust his balance in a way that redistributed his weight. “You need to engage your core more. Without it, you’re losing a lot of power.”

“Okay,” He replied, standing up a little straighter. He pushed some of the hair from his face, gazing at the bag determinedly.

“It’s all yours,” you said, giving him the go-ahead.

Keep reading

One of the things that’s seldom talked about in the Gilmore fandom (but totally should be) is how the stylists handled Rory and Lorelai’s looks (i.e. clothes/hair/makeup), especially in the first couple of seasons.

Like, in so many shows, if the main characters are young, supposedly attractive women they always have perfect makeup, their hair is always flawlessly highlighted, cut and straightened/curled, and their clothes are generally the latest “styles”. Or even if they’re older, or playing a specific role (like detective, lawyer, doctor, etc.) they’re given a certain ‘look’ that we’ve come to associate with that type of character. Basically, they look like no real woman actually looks unless they’re at a magazine photoshoot. But for Lorelai and Rory, their style actually reflected their respective personalities. 

Often, early on, it appears that Rory is not even wearing makeup, particularly in casual situations (obviously they wear stage makeup but you can’t really tell). Her hair is cut pretty basically, one length, parted in the middle, and often looks a bit frizzy (aka just normal and not straightened). Her style is pretty much just what you’d expect from Rory - casual, comfortable, not super trendy or “cute” but you can still imagine she enjoys her clothes and did pick them out (hoodies, t-shirts, jeans, cargo pants, chunky sweaters and the occasional rather frumpy dress). I feel like it’s so important to show that Rory’s look is simply Rory - she doesn’t look stereotypically “nerdy” even though she enjoys things that are often pegged as “nerdy” - i.e. reading, studying, etc.

With Lorelai, she’s given unique and wacky outfits (some of which are cute, some of which are not, but all of which totally scream Lorelai), with her hair alternating between nicely curled (probably when she’s feeling fancier) and straightened/pulled back in a low ponytail. She’s not the kind of person who will have one hairstyle or hair routine every day for years. She also experiments with makeup - I specifically remember a weird icy blue eye shadow and a nude lip gloss…neither of which were particularly attractive, and I love that. Because in real life, women who wear makeup don’t look like they’ve come straight from getting a perfect makeover - they try different stuff, get bored of it, move on.

It’s not just Lorelai and Rory either - it’s Lane, it’s Sookie, it’s Paris - and when someone (male or female) doesn’t change their look much (i.e. Luke or Emily) it’s shown to be a character trait, not something imposed on them because they have to look a certain way to really embody the character or whatever.

It’s especially important because most TV shows don’t show women this realistically or complexly when it comes to how they look. They usually have one style, one look, generic ‘perfect’ makeup and clothes that get more dramatic for special occasions and less when they’re meant to be casual - but not in a way that rings true to how women actually present themselves. It’s so validating to see people who some days dress up and do their makeup, other days just kind of hang loose, try new things with their hair that aren’t always the latest trends. 

I’ve just been thinking about this a lot lately, watching other shows that I genuinely love but feeling like unless it’s supposed to be a gag where a female character looks ‘ugly’ they always stick to this perfectly manicured look - wardrobe, hair, makeup. It’s frustrating and I wish more shows would take a page out of Gilmore Girls’ book and create more realistic and diverse looks for female characters.

Taken By Force (Taeyong!)

anon(s) said:Hey guys! I was wondering about a Dom!Taeyong smut where he’s really rough and forces you to blow him? Of course including consent but still, can it be really hot and stuff? :D sincerely, whose life is now complete 😌 thanks for your hard work guys❤

Can i request Taeyong smut when he finds out his gf search history was “Taeyong SMUT fanfic” “Taeyong 18+ fanfic” etc Lolololol Thank-you and have a great day

could you do a rough!taeyong super steamy smut? please make it as hot as you can sorry im just too thirsty for this guy lmao

author: admin hyo

word count:1863

a/n: What have I done~ this took me forever, but it’s here. The only real warning is that there is some consensual non-con. So if you’re not into that don’t read. But please enjoy.

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I love Tumblr feminism but it is so damn West-centric. 

I realise, I realise perfectly, that women get raped and murdered and tortured in the West too. And I am in NO WAY undermining any of that. But feminism is such a complex issue and I’ve come to realise that feminism for one woman is not feminism for the other. 

For one woman, feminism is the right to wear the tightest, shortest clothes and not be degraded or attacked for it. For another woman, it is literally the right to be born. No feminism is more or less “valid”. Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m not saying that your rights are any less important. But feminism is so layered, and I find that–at least on tumblr–much of feminism’s other sides aren’t talked about as much. 

I can only speak reliably for women of my own country. 

It is honestly dangerous for me to be out of the house, alone, after a certain time of night. It’s risky for me to get wet in the rain because I’d look “sexy” and therefore I’m “asking for it”. In the burning heat of summer, I have to think twice about wearing anything short or sleeveless or in any way comfortable, because it would be “indecent” of me. It’s dangerous for me to wear a skirt, or a dress, unless I’m moving from a car to an indoor area, I’m cat-called on my way to college when I’m literally just wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, it’s dangerous for me to enter a taxi alone because I’m at the driver’s mercy, it’s dangerous for me to turn a man down because I could literally HAVE ACID THROWN ON MY FACE, and when I talk about issues like rape, powerful men in powerful offices in the country literally try to blame anything else but the rapist, including (and this is what an actual politician said), “spicy chinese food that gives men fire”. In my country it’s illegal for pregnant women to do a sex determination procedure because most people, when finding out that the unborn child is female, abort her. Doctors take bribes and do the test anyway. Aborted female foetuses are often fed to stray dogs or thrown into sewers. Female babies that are born are often murdered. There are places where local village councils don’t allow women to own mobile phones because it would give them too much freedom. Women are pulled out of school–children!–and young college students, to get married, because a woman’s only job is to give birth to a boy, and why not start right after her body is able to carry a baby, right? Martial rape isn’t against the crime, because some lawyers and judges literally can’t wrap their head around the fact that married women can be raped by their husbands.  Lesbians–they’re not even allowed the freedom to have sex. (Section 377). Trans women, are of course, not even considered human beings. 

And as bad as the women in my country have it, I realise that I am, in fact constitutionally, granted SO much more freedom than women of other countries. The law gives me the right to wear what I want, go where I please, drive a car, be alone. The law gives me freedom, even if my society does not. As a cis, straight woman, I am not considered an abomination against nature. And therefore when I read about the lives of women in countries worse of than mine, I am reminded that I am, in fact, endlessly privileged. My nationality grants me equal status with a man, my parents–progressive and feminist as they are–give me freedoms that even some of my friends don’t have (such as the freedom to choose the man I marry), my education and financial status give me the freedom to dream of what I can be in the future. I am lucky.

Feminism for women in my country is when a girl’s father tells me, “I’m going to educate my daughter like a boy, I want her to become a government servant.” I don’t think, how dare he choose a profession for his daughter, she has the right to choose! I think, wow, he’s giving her an education. 

Feminism for a woman in my country is when I tell my Australian cousin that, “it’s actually getting MUCH better. Child marriage has reduced.”

Feminism is when I have to explain to a New Zealander that, my father doesn’t force me to do anything. He doesn’t dictate the clothes I wear or where I go, or who I meet. I listen to him because I love and respect his judgement, and I know that when he looks at the crop top I’m wearing and asks, in badly-hidden surprise, “You’re wearing that?” it’s not because he has a problem with me showing skin, it’s because he’s terrified of me getting raped or killed. And when I talk about boys with my mother, it’s not because she’s forcing me to get married at the age of 18 to a man of her choosing, it’s because I have a crush and I want someone to talk to. That is more than what I can say for over 50% of my friends. 

No “version” of feminism is inherently more valid than the other. But Western feminism tends to discuss issues like equal pay and sexualisation in media, which are literally so far out of the issues women from less liberated societies face. And I believe that those women deserved to be acknowledged as well. 

Feminism should be about all women, of all backgrounds, otherwise we might as well not bother. 

2

Sherlock fandom productivity on AO3 since series 4

With the flurry around the surprises in the new series, some of us longtime Sherlock fans might have the impression that everything is going up in flames. The tides of tumblr are hard to read, but a clearer view might be offered by looking at what the fandom is doing on AO3, our favourite archive. 

Above is a plot reporting the number of new and returning creators posting Sherlock works per month, since 2011. This and more plots below the cut show that Series 4 really energized the fandom, in particular fanwork creators that have been around for a few years. 

Keep reading

“I deleted your number from my phone month and months ago so that I wouldn’t text you in the late night. I know you sleep well, and fully throughout the night, and you grew sad and distanced yourself each morning you woke to find my frustration, years too late. I unfriended you on Facebook because you liked all the posts I put up, the happy ones, the good ones, the fun ones. I trained my brain to forget your last name. I taught myself not to think of your eyes. Or the shape of your collar bones. I now can proudly say I don’t think of you late at night when I stare at the light coming in my bedroom windows.”

I’m trying to slow time, and stay still enough so that I don’t wreck anything. That I don’t turn any of the good let in my life into something negative. 

I’m writing everything down lately. Because I don’t trust my memory to catch all the good and bad. It’s like a recently mended net, about to test it’s new strength. 

I hate writing K’s and G’s in my handwriting. I like writing L’s and S’s. I bought a spray bottle at the dollar store and filled it up with water and eucalyptus essential oil. I’ve been burning lavender incense and spraying my pillows with the eucalyptus water. I’ve rearranged my bookcase, and listened to an old FM radio. I searched for a station that didn’t have commercials for about 20 mins. My internet had been down some 24 hours at that point and I just needed a little something in my ears.

I’ve been gone 11 days, and now my cats don’t leave me alone. They come, twirling and dancing between my feet as I walk around surveying this apartment I missed. Each tiny and large thing put in a place that feels right, at least for now.  

In college I would repaint my studio apartment’s walls in the middle of the night because I needed a bit of a change. I would rearrange pillows, shelves and furniture because it felt better thinking about how I’d never been kissed. How I’d never known the touch of a trusted lover. Now I do it because it feels good to seek and find solace and comfort here, away from the world outside. 

I’m not sorry that I’ve allowed certain men take root in my memories. Idaho with his grumbling, growling, and breathtaking smile, his declarations. Brown eyes with the way his mouth moved when he talked and his tattoos, and his love of achingly soft music. The midwest gent for his attentive nature, patience, and his stoicism. My southern best friend who made me laugh like no other, with goofy memorable moments of pride and care, his strength. My contractor ex, nationally ranked rugby boyfriend who lived in the Poconos and who made me feel delicate, womanly, but who trusted me with a hammer and power tools. The tall gangly boy who grew into a handsome man, one night to take my hand late at night in his sports car only to whispered beautiful words of praise besides a lake under the moonlight some miles later. 

But that’s because I sometimes forget the bad associated with each. Or the bad I brought to them. 

I’m sitting on the floor, my legs have fallen asleep and I know I should shed my clothes and crawl into my bed. I should make a list of all I want to accomplish tomorrow, and I should, I should, I should, I should. 

I think I’ll soak in the tub, or change my sheets and get into bed and play a song that starts slow and sad, but builds in my chest like road trip views where you get surprised by a great landscape after the same sad thing miles and miles. Just one more hill. Just one more hike, one more mile, until you’re closer. I’m closer.

Everyday, I am thankful for those who have loved me, and who have allowed me to love them, even if it wasn’t enough for either of us in the long run. Because I’m learning to love myself more, and more. Learning to call myself out on my bullshit. Learning that exciting things happen every day, that I can make exciting things happen, worthwhile things.  

That one day, doesn’t matter how soon, all these memories, all this growth will mean a more successful relationship with another extraordinary person. With my extraordinary person. Who will grow with me. That will take me as I am, a person capable of greatness, even if that greatness is just great according to each of us, and the small things I do to affect others positively. 

I just have to breathe in, make several small movements that turn into larger ones, exhale, then do it all over again. 

True affection (Robb Stark x Female!Reader)

Prompt: Hi :) Can you do a Robb Stark x Reader please? Maybe we see the stages of their relationship as their meeting, their love, their betrothal, their marriage, the pregnancy of the reader, the birth of their child? It’s just an idea and I’m sorry if there are mistakes, I’m French :)

Note: @tiiffanym I really loved this request, so i hope i did it justice!

Robb Stark x reader

When your Parents told you that the carriage was nearing Winterfell, you felt sick. The closer you got to Winterfell, the closer you were to your life changing forever. It had been Ned Stark who had proposed the marriage, and your parents had been delighted. House Stark and House Y/L/N had been allies for centuries – It made sense to strengthen that tie.

You were less thrilled about the idea. You had only ever met Robb once, when you were young, and had no idea as to what kind of man he might be now. Your mother reassured you that Ned was an honourable man, and that his son would be to, but it was little help.

As you approached the gates of Winterfell, you couldn’t deny how beautiful it was; and as Robb Stark took your arm and helped you out of the carriage, you couldn’t deny that he was beautiful too.

When you were both on solid ground, Robb kneeled in front of you, and kissed your hand “Lady Y/n, you are as beautiful I remember.”

You blushed at the compliment, and hoped he was as kind a man as his words suggested.


You quickly got used to not only the North, but to the Stark family. Arya and Rickon were little wolves, constantly exploring the surrounding forests, returning caked in mud (much to Catelyn’s chagrin). Sansa had the voice of an angel, Bran was a genius with a bow, and Robb – well he was just perfect.

The two of you had connected quickly, and you complemented each other well. Where he was hot headed, you were cool, he was proud, and you were logical, and you both adored each other.

It had been a month since you had first arrived in the North, and you had spent most days with Robb, with him showing you around the castle or riding together around the surrounding grounds of the castle.

You were sat together in the Gods wood when he first told you that he was in love with you.

You looked up at him in slight shock before he continued “Y/N, I had always accepted that when I married it would be out of duty, to create an alliance but…” he paused for a moment “You are like no one I have ever met. I love you.”

You weren’t sure that you would ever be able to stop smiling. Your eyes met at you both leaned in to the kiss. When your lips met his you were certain that Winterfell was where you belonged. That he was where you belonged.

When you pulled away he let out a sigh at the lack of contact, so you moved to sit closer to him. Without having to think he wrapped his arm around your waist. You leaned it his touch.

“I love you too Robb.”


The day you married Robb was one of the best days of your life. You, like Robb, had never expected to be able to marry someone that you truly loved. You waited anxiously in the chapels door way. Arya was fidgeting, pulling at her dress trying to get comfortable.

You were shocked when Arya acquiesced to being one your bridesmaids, and you suspected that this would be the last time you ever saw her in a ball gown until her own wedding. Sansa looked like a Queen, in her bridesmaid dress. You were suddenly overwhelming proud of the two girls.

When you heard the Organ begin to play, your father took your arm and you began to walk down the aisle. The night before you had been so nervous that something would go wrong, that you would trip and fall or something would happen to your dress.

Those fears quickly exited your mind as soon as you saw Robb. His jaw dropped when he first saw you, and his eyes filled with tears. You looked stunning. The dress was simple, and fitted you perfectly, hugging your body in all of the right places.

Your house colours had been sewn intricately into the hem, and it was better then you could have ever hoped for. All of the great Northern houses were in attendance, but you barley even acknowledged them, with all of your attention on Robb.

Robb was grinning besides you as you both stood in front of the septon. Your soon to be husband slipped his hand into yours as you exchanged your vows. You squeezed his hand, as you promised to love him until the day that you died.

The cloak Robb wrapped around you was beautiful, it had the Stark crest embroidered onto a deep blue background, and the lining of the cloak was pure white wool. You wondered how many hours it had taken to craft something so beautiful.

“You many now kiss the bride” called out the septon, once Robb had wrapped the cloak around you.

Robb cupped your face gently with his hands and leaned down to kiss you, you flung your arms around his neck and pressed your body close to his.

When Robb pulled away from you, he looked like he was so full of love that he might burst. “I Love you so much Y/n Stark.” When he pulled you into another kiss, the room let out a cheer.


It had been four months since you last moons blood, and five months since you and Robb got married. Maester Luwin had confirmed your suspicions. You were pregnant.

You knew Robb would be happy, you were carrying the air to Winterfell inside of you, but you were still nervous to tell him. You said a quick prayer to both the Old Gods and the seven that he would be as pleased as you were.

Robb was out hunting when you found out that you were pregnant, he would be back early the next morning. You let out a groan. You were desperate to tell someone. When you saw Catelyn, you couldn’t contain yourself.

“Lady Stark, there is something I must tell you, Robb is not here and I have to tell someone.” You gushed, and Catelyn gave you a knowing smile.

“Y/n please, you must call me Catelyn” she insisted “What is It you must tell me?”

“I’m with child” you whispered excitedly, relieved to finally share the secret.

Your mother in law pulled you into a tight hug “I have had my suspicions, you have been absolutely glowing this past few weeks.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to be a mother” you muttered, slightly in shock.

Catelyn let out a laugh “I can’t believe I’m going to be a grandmother.”


Robbs reaction to your pregnancy had been even better then you could have hoped. As soon as the words had left your mouth he had lifted you up into his arms. You buried your head into the crook of his neck. You couldn’t tell if he was crying or laughing, but you knew he was overjoyed.

Throughout the pregnancy Robb had been extremely protective of you, worrying about everything you did. You couldn’t even go on a ride without him insisting to come with you. Arya had told you that he was obsessed, but you found his care endearing.

The bump had started to show just after you broke then news to Robb, and the Starks were constantly crowding around you, trying to see if the baby was kicking yet.

You were lying in bed curled up with Robb the first time that you felt the baby kick. Robb was snoring softly when you woke him.

“Robb! The baby’s kicking!” you elbowed him lightly and he groggily began to wake up.

He quickly came to his senses when he heard the word baby “Wait Y/n is everything okay?” he said, shooting up quickly.

He quickly placed his hand against your bump, a smile spreading across his face. You couldn’t wait to start your family with the man you loved.


Giving birth was the hardest thing that you had ever done, but Robb got you through it. Despite the midwifes insistence that Robb needed to leave, he remained stuck to your side, holding your hand the whole time.

“Come of Y/n one more push. You can do this.”

“I-I I Can’t do this Robb…” you said exhausted “Please I can’t”

Robb squeezed you hand tight “You can do this love.”

It took the last of the energy you had left, but you gave one final push. You didn’t immediately hear the baby cry, and panic rose in your chest. Was there something wrong, was your baby safe?

Then you heard the baby cry. Your baby. It was the best sound you had ever heard.

Robb was silent as the midwife place the baby in his arms, totally in awe of the tiny person you had both created. He looked on the edge of tears.

“Y-y/n… we’ve got a daughter Y/n. Our little girl.”

You let out a sob when you saw your child. Suddenly all of the hours of pain and discomfort were forgotten, as Robb handed you your daughter. Her eyes were closed as she grabbed onto your little finger with her hand. You hadn’t known you could love someone so much.

Robb kissed you on the forehead, then kissed the top of your baby’s head “She’s perfect, you’re perfect. Gods I love you both – more than I know how to say.”

You looked up at your husband, the man you loved “Lyanna. She’s called Lyanna.” The look on his face told you that it was perfect.

Why I’m Doing The Eddsworld Fan Movie

Hey, Eddheads. Marc here.

A common question that I get a lot is “The fanbase is so cringe-worthy now, so why are you still making the Eddsworld Fan Movie? Don’t you have to put up with a lot of those people?” And although there’s been a number of fans pestering us about which characters they want to see and when the movie is coming out, I never really thought that much about it.

For those of you reading this on someone else’s blog who has no idea what the Eddsworld Fan Movie is, it’s basically a passion project of mine that I started when I was a sophomore in high school four years ago. I was a big Eddsworld fan (and still am to this day), the fans who were still around back then were so nice and so generous, and I wanted to give something back to everyone who watched it and worked on it. Of course, the best love letter to the Eddsworld community I can think of was a full-length fan movie.

That’s why I started doing it. Because I loved the show, I loved the fans, and I wanted to express my love in the biggest possible way. Now, four years later, almost all those people that were fans of the show when I started working on the movie have moved on, and the fanbase currently consists of much younger people who might’ve been introduced to the series through later Legacy episodes like Saloonatics or The End.

While not all of the newer fans are bad (in fact, I’ve even made friends with a good chunk of them), some of these people have displayed certain types of behavior that Edd would not approve of. They haven’t personally affected me at all, but I know that there’s a number of people out there who just want to complain about everything we do and just want to see the movie come out.

So going back to an important detail I mentioned before, when I started working on the movie, the Eddsworld fandom was in a much different place. Now most people outside of Eddsworld only recognize it for strange AUs and shipping characters that never even liked each other in the actual show, and if a fandom that you’ve been a part of for so long starts to get made fun of for that even if not every single person in said fandom is guilty of those things, it becomes a lot less fun to be a part of.

But Eddsworld itself has left such a positive impact on me. If I didn’t start watching it, I wouldn’t have been as creatively motivated as I am today. If I didn’t start drawing comics, I wouldn’t have been able to replicate Edd’s style and help keep it alive. If I didn’t start working on the movie, I wouldn’t have gotten to actually work on the show and make comics for them officially (I did comics 191, 192, 199, and 200; and my fellow Fan Movie co-producer Billy and I animated scenes for The End).

I owe a lot of myself to Edd Gould. He made cartoons from his bedroom that people loved, and he worked so hard to make them as enjoyable as possible because he knew that people loved them, even when he was going through his second round of cancer. Edd found happiness and success from just making videos with his friends, and they were funny, and clever, and charming, and timeless, and hugely inspirational.

I’m extremely grateful to Tom Ridgewell and Eddie Bowley for allowing us to contribute to the show, and I’m humbled that they chose us to represent Edd’s work in The End, but it was because of Edd that I decided to get into a creative medium like this. It was because of Edd that I’m now coming up with my own original ideas for shows and movies and games and plays and all that stuff. It was because of Edd that I wanted to make a movie based on his work. And I made so many great friends because of it, all of them loving the show just as much as me.

We all have the same passion and drive to get this movie done, as much as Edd did when it came to his videos. And despite all the drama and cringeworthy stuff that people make fun of Eddheads for now, that is why I’m still working on the Eddsworld Fan Movie. Because of all the exciting opportunities that have opened up for me, all the clever and talented people I’ve been fortunate enough to work with over the years, all the love and support that have come our way, and how I owe a lot of it to the man whose world I’ve been tickled to visit.

Although he’s sadly no longer with us, we’ve all worked so hard to keep his spirit alive and well through his animation, his writing style, and his perserverence. We’ve been overwhelmed by the anticipation and the excitement that’s been target to us concerning the Fan Movie. And while I’m grateful for all the essays and paragraphs that fans write telling us how we’ve inspired them, working on the Eddsworld Fan Movie is really worth it just to be told four simple but impactful little words:

“Edd would be proud.”

Soulmate AU Pt.2 // Harry

Requested- surprisingly by a lot of yall

Summary- it’s taken harry a while, but he’s finally accepted his soulmate especially after something happens (does that make sense idk im sorry)

Pairing- harry hook x reader

AN- this is the ‘happy’ ending, there’s gonna be an alternate one where things don’t go as planned soo keep an eye out for that! also, i couldn’t do smut just bc it didn’t feel right?

part one

“You sure Harry is okay with me being here?” Jay asked for the third time as he sat on your bed, books sprawled out in front of him.

You shrugged, “I don’t see why he wouldn’t be. We’re just studying, now c’mon, I can’t find my book so we need to share.” You explained as you moved to sit closer to the boy.

Harry walked down the hall with a grin on his face, he was on his way to your room and he couldn’t be more excited to see you. After months of hanging out and getting to know each other, he had developed feelings for you and he was finally going to admit them to you.

Until he opened the door and saw you sitting rather closely to a certain former VK. His stomach dropped when he saw how you giggled at whatever Jay had said. That was supposed to be him making you laugh, not some other guy.

“Harry!” You beamed, going towards him and wrapping your arms around his neck. He held you close to him, even as you tried to pull away.

“What’s he doing here?” Harry asked, glaring at the boy who quickly got up from your bed and gathered his stuff.

You playfully slapped Harry’s chest before turning your attention to Jay, “Where are you going? We haven’t even finished the chapter.”

Jay was about to respond when Harry cut him off, “You two were too busy giggling to even study…” He grumbled.

Ignoring his comment, you waited for Jay to answer. He looked between you and Harry before stuttering out an excuse about being late to tourney practice.

You thought it was odd but shrugged it off.

“You know, I came here to tell you something, but now i’m just gonna go. Feel free to catch up with Jay,” Harry faked a smile and turned towards the door.

It took you no more than a few seconds to realize why he was suddenly acting so cold, “You’re jealous.”

Harry scoffed as he turned around, “I came to tell you about my feelings for you and I see you all cozy with a thief.”

“He’s not a thief!” You defended, but paused once taking in his words. “Y-You  have feelings for me?”

He shook his head, a sarcastic chuckle coming from him, “You defended him before addressing what I said. I’m leaving.”

You couldn’t let him leave so you did the only thing you could do, you started to beg, “Please don’t do this, don’t walk out the door.”

Harry didn’t even bother looking at you before walking out of the door.

―•―•―•―

Crying wasn’t do anything, you knew that, yet here you were with tears streaming down your face. You hadn’t realized it, but you loved Harry. Sure he was cocky and sarcastic and rude at times, but he was changing and everybody saw that and credited you for the change,

An almost inaudible knock sounded from your door which made you get up.

“Evie, I don-” You began, but stopped once seeing who it was, “Did you need something?”

Harry sighed, “I care about you, lass, lot more than I want to admit.”

Scoffing, you shook your head and walked back into your room leaving him at the door, “What do you want me to say, Harry? You left without letting me explain anything! I shouldn’t even need to explain myself though, I was just studying with him!”

The silence coming from behind you made you turn around and to your surprise, Harry was wiping his eyes. He was crying.

“Can I say something then if you don’t like it, you can tell me to leave, yeah?”

You nodded, taking a seat on your bed as Harry began pacing in front of you.

“You’ve shown me what love can feel like a-and I haven’t felt that in so long. When i’m with you, i’m happy and I can’t lose you - I won’t lose you. I realized we’re meant for each other and we can’t change that.” He rushed everything out so fast you barely understood him.

Tears began to well up in your eyes once again as you walked to him, “Kiss me,”

“Wha-” He began.

“Harry please-”

Then his lips were on yours. You two have kissed before, but this time it felt different. There was more emotion and passion it it. Harry held your face in his hands as you gripped his shirt.

Pulling apart, you spoke, “You haven’t lost me and you’re not going to, okay? I’m not going anywhere unless it’s with you. Like I said the day we found out, we’ll figure this out together.” You held his gaze as you talked.

Harry nodded, “Together.”

And you did end up figuring it out together. 


TAGS - @toomanybooksnotenoughsleep , @fireandice-sage , @bekahpaik , @lose-a-fight-to-an-alley-cat , @lahey-trash , @mysticsthinking

Our Mirror

stood in the bathroom and stared at the drawing on the mirror. My husband, Robbie, drew it there, when he was alive. The crude lines depicted a little house with a family inside: a woman on the left, a child in the middle, and a man on the right. He always thought of me first.

The sink ran endlessly in the kitchen, accompanied by the clanking sounds of dishes and my mother’s voice, like a persistent bell clanging in my skull. Her words were lost in the noise.

It had been six months since I washed that mirror. It used to be that you could only see the drawing when you tilted your head a certain way, or after a hot shower. Now, the mirror is coated with dust and you can always see it. I created little valleys in the dust, tracing the marks Robbie’s finger made over and over again.

“Teresa!” My mother is looking for me. I can feel her approaching the open door behind me.

Robbie began drawing on the mirror when we first moved in to this house. Sometimes, it was just a smiley face or a heart. Sometimes, it was my name.

“Teresa, I’ve never seen so many bottles in my…”

The first time I saw his writing on the mirror, I assumed he’d done it to annoy me. It didn’t. I found it sweet. It made me feel as if he were here with me somehow, when we were apart. I cleaned the mirror once a week or so, and a few days later, I’d notice another message. I grew fond of our tacit ritual.

“Oh. That’s just weird,” mother said, entering the bathroom.

“I’d like to be alone.”

“No. You’ve had enough alone time. Get your coat and shoes. We’ll get lunch.”

We stared each other down and I could see that I wasn’t getting away easily, this time. I shuffled reluctantly from the room to get my things.

As I pulled on a sock, I heard a squeaking noise from the bathroom. I realized what it was with mounting horror.

I shrieked like an underdisciplined child when I saw my mother holding a dusty rag and a bottle of Windex. The mirror was clean.

I could have killed her, but I only shoved her. I cried. She cried. We didn’t get lunch, after all.

I sobbed into a pillow, for a while. I had a drink. I got a headache. I decided to take a shower.

I thought of Robbie as the scalding water poured over me.

We were trying to have a baby, and then he died.

I ran my hand over my flat stomach. I ached. The water began to run cold.

I exited the shower, wrapping myself in a towel. I froze when I saw the fresh writing on the mirror.

“I’m still here,” it read.

Tears welled in my eyes, “Robbie, is that you?”

I recoiled as new lines began to appear in the condensation before my eyes. My heart thudded violently as I read them.

“Never was,” they read.

Proud

summary: phil notices how much happier and confident dan has become (ft. shower sex)

genre: fluff!!!!! and also smut ayoooo

warnings: swearing, rimming, blowjobs, shower sex

word count: 1966

read on ao3!

a/n: hey hey hey! long time no write :) i was hit with inspo to write this fic on the way back from orlando (no joke, probs the best weekend i’ve had in a while), and i’m 99% sure this is one of the best fics i’ve written. i feel super confident and happy with it, and i couldn’t have done it without the lovely holly (who also beta’ed this fic check her out). i really really hope you enjoy, and after may 1st i will write as much as i can i promise <3

Keep reading

I went on two dates recently. 

I had a party, a giant board game night in my studio, and I invited about 10 people, then more and more verbally because it was my first week back from the west coast and I missed these people. 

My friend brought a friend of his. Tall, perfectly square jaw, did I mention tall, dark and handsome. Very tall, and handsome. I told him he looked like a movie star from the 1950s. He texted me the next day, after getting my business card the previous night in hopes of getting his band to play one of my shows. 

We texted a bit. He was inquisitive, curious and open, quick on his feet with my sarcasm. I was hesitant, but I agreed to the date, even altering it to include the small theater down the street from the bar we would meet at. He put his arm around me in the theater and I didn’t feel the panic of a stranger touching me. It was comfortable, no pressure or exception, just two slightly too tall for the tiny theaters seats, trying not to laugh and get comfortable. 

That second meeting, a so called first date, went well enough to warrant a kiss at the end of the night. It didn’t compare to a searing kiss I’d received a year before from what I can only settle to call a lead singer/bad boy. But there was something so sweet and reassuring about this man. Man. Boy. I’m turing 28 this year, and he just turned 22. The years separating us much less than the number of times my stomach twisted about it. 

I’ve never, in my entire dating career dated a 22 year old. Not even when I was 22.

But, I realized the extreme distance in our lifestyles shortly into our 2nd date, and over the course of a few hours dreaded the determination in my gut not to alter this sweet, handsome face. His plans, his passions, so unlike mine. I want to flip a house. I want to build something from crumbling somethings. I wanted to find a career that was fitting to my desire to be outside but to make things beautiful. 

I want to charge, chin up, into challenges because they call to me. I don’t need a lot of money, but happiness and hard work. He wanted to be swept up in love, deep and challenging. I was challenging. I was attractive. I laughed in the face of something that scared me, and continued laughing when I got more scared. And he stared at me, my lips, and my eyes, and my collar bones. The way my hands moved, and that I swigged gin straight from the bottle the night he met me.  

I didn’t want to break or bend him, because he already seemed so willing to bend for me. 

Two dates in and he already confessed that he would do whatever I liked, Whatever I wanted. Dinners, dates, a summer of one sided affection had I chose that… That kind of free reign makes certain people tyrants, not lovers. Not parters.  Yes, you can guide a young lover into a better person, or you can alter their personality to an unnatural degree. They become a pleaser. I’ve been there. I did that, because a handsome man 8 years my senior gave me the kind of affection and attention that gets you drunk off life. That makes you watch movies, listen to music you never liked when you were alone, and spend Sundays doing what they wanted. 

I don’t, nor have I ever, want to sweep someone up in my being. I want to sweep each other away, and stand up, soaking wet laughing and grinning in joy at the next challenge. 

I think about the three specific men I’ve dated in my 27 years that have truly challenged me. To seek more, to move, to fight, to be more. They still do, in their absence from my life. I am more. I am so much. I don’t realize it when I look in the mirror. 

I realize it when I leave a little tiny, speck of myself with someone I could have settled with.  Or maybe changed a little bit. It’s not about change it’s about growth. It’s about the distances you travel together without even realizing it, until you see the mile markers that mark your never ending trip to “home”.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that… dating sucks. Because even when it’s okay. You have to communicate with yourself more than anyone else, before you damage yourself and others.