your season is coming

me listening to pats fans complain about two losses

24 things I’ve learned in 24 years:

I’ve seen this go around, and I thought it was a really cool and thoughtful!

  1. Kindness is so important, and your heart is your greatest compass in life
  2. You cannot please everyone, no matter how hard you try, and at the end of the day, if you’re happy with yourself, that’s what matters
  3. Forgiveness is so important - whether that’s forgiving other people, or forgiving yourself, because holding grudges is toxic
  4. People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime
  5. Creativity is so important, and don’t let anyone tell you that it isn’t
  6. It’s okay to love the things that you love
  7. E Q U A L I T Y is so important
  8. Critical thinking is a necessity - you can’t believe everything you read, hear, or see
  9. There is always more than one perspective
  10. Avoid being stagnant, take every opportunity you can to grow and embrace positive change
  11. Smiles and laughter are the best medicine
  12. There is nothing more calming or soothing than sitting by the sea
  13. Giving yourself the proper time to grieve does not make you weak
  14. Never give up on your crazy, crazy dreams
  15. A challenging day can be cured with a good cup of tea
  16. Perfection is boring
  17. Try not to take things too personally - what others do is not a reflection of you, but a reflection of themselves
  18. Persevere - life is hard and people will take advantage, but you can get through it
  19. Don’t be afraid to make drastic changes when necessary
  20. A heart can be broken, but it still keeps on beating, you keep moving on
  21. Take a leaf out of Peter Pan’s book - never fully grow up
  22. There are three sides to every story - yours, mine, and the truth
  23. Your value doesnt decrease based on someone else’s inability to see your worth - don’t get your self worth from others
  24. Live your best life - whatever version your best life means to you
[TRANS] SPRING DAY - BTS

Miss you
saying this makes me miss you more
i miss you even though im looking at your photo
time is so cruel, i hate us
seeing each other for once is so hard between us

it’s all winter here even in August
my heart is running on the time alone on the snowpiercer
i wanna get to the other side of the earth holding your hand 
wanna put an end to this winter
how much longing should we see snowing down to have the days of spring, friend

like the tiny dust like tiny dust floating in the air
will i get to you a little faster if i was the snow in the air 

snowflakes fall and get away little by little
i miss you i miss you
how long do i have to wait
and how many sleepless nights do i have to spend
to see you to meet you 

passing by the edge of the cold winter
until the days of the spring 
until the flowers blossom
please stay, please stay there a little longer

is it you who changed or is it me?
i hate this moment that this time flows
we are changing you know, just like everyone you know 
yes i hate you, you left me 
but i never stopped thinking about you, not even a day
honestly i miss you but ill erase you
cuz it hurts less than to blame you

i try to exhale you in pain like smoke, like white smoke
i say that ill erase you but i cant really let you go yet

snowflakes fall and get away little by little
i miss you i miss you
how long do i have to wait
and how many sleepless nights do i have to spend
to see you to meet you

you know it all, youre ma best friend
the morning will come again 
no darkness, no season can last forever

maybe its cherry blossoms and this winter will be over 
i miss you i miss you 
wait a little bit, just a few more nights
ill be there to see you, ill come for you 

passing by the edge of the cold winter
until the days of the spring
until the flowers blossom
please stay, please stay there a little longer

Sasha’s death was foreshadowed in the season premiere. After it zooms in past everyone else, it focuses on Glenn, Abe and Sasha. These are the three main characters who died in season 7.

jeremy_zag Dear Miraculeurs, season 2 is in good shape and on his way. As you know Ladybug and Black cat has been incredibly welcome all over the world thanks to all of you. This is the reason why we had to synchronize a global launching and launch major countries at the same time. It will be sept/oct 2017. Tx u so much for your love for the show.

MIRACULOUS LADYBUG SEASON 2 IS COMING IN SEPTEMBER/OCTOBER OF 2017! IT’S A WORLDWIDE RELEASE IN MAJOR COUNTRIES AT THE SAME TIME!

even pledis is shocked lol

I was asked by someone to spoil the reunion scene for them, so of course I was more than happy to comply 😏 Without further ado, I give you The Print Shop.


A. MALCOLM
PRINTER and BOOKSELLER

I stretched out my hand and touched the black letters of the name. A. Malcolm. Alexander Malcolm. James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser. Perhaps.

Another minute, and I would lose my nerve. I shoved open the door and walked in.

There was a broad counter across the front of the room, with an open flap in it, and a rack to one side that held several trays of type. Posters and notices of all sorts were tracked up on the opposite wall; samples, no doubt.

The door into the back room was open, showing the bulky angular frame of a printing press. Bent over it, his back turned to me, was Jamie.

“Is that you, Geordie?” he asked, not turning around. He was dressed in shirt and breeches, and had a small tool of some kind in his hand, with which he was doing something to the innards of the press. “Took ye long enough. Did ye get the–”

“It isn’t Geordie,” I said. My voice was higher than usual. “It’s me,” I said. “Claire.”

He straightened up very slowly. He wore his hair long; a thick tail of a deep, rich auburn sparked with copper. I had time to see that the neat ribbon that tied it back was green, and then he turned around.

He stared at me without speaking. A tenor ran down the muscular throat as he swallowed, but still he didn’t say anything.

It was the same broad, good-humored face, dark blue eyes aslant the high, flat cheekbones of a Viking, long mouth curling at the ends as though always on the verge of smiling. The line surrounding eyes and mouth were deeper, of course. The nose had changed just a bit. The knife-edge bridge was slightly thickened near the base by the ridge of an old, healed fracture. It made him look fiercer, I thought, but lessened the air of aloof reserve, and lent his appearance a new rough charm.

I walked through the flap in the counter flap, seeing nothing but that unblinking stare. I cleared my throat.

“When did you break your nose?”

The corners of the wide mouth lifted slightly.

“About three minutes after I last saw ye – Sassenach.”

There was a hesitation, almost a question in the name. There was no more than a foot between us. I reached out tentatively and touched the tiny line of the break, where the bone pressed white against the bronze of his skin.

He flinched backward as though an electric spark had arced between us, and the calm expression shattered.

“You’re real,” he whispered. I had thought him pale already. Now all vestiges of color drained from his face. His eyes rolled up and he slumped to the floor in a shower of papers and oddments that had been sitting on the press – he fell rather gracefully for such a large man, I thought abstractedly.

It was only a faint; his eyelids were beginning to flutter by the time I knelt beside him and loosened the stock at his throat. I had no doubts at all by now, but still I looked automatically as I pulled the heavy linen away. It was there, of course, the small triangular scar just above the collarbone, left by the knife of Captain Jonathan Randall, Esquire, of his Majesty’s Eighth Dragoons.

His normal healthy color was returning. I sat cross-legged on the floor and hoisted his head onto my thigh. His hair felt thick and soft in my hand. His eyes opened.

“That bad, is it?” I said, smiling down at him with the same words he had used to me on the day of our wedding, holding my head in his lap, twenty-odd years before.

“That bad, and worse, Sassenach,” he answered, mouth twitching with something almost a smile. He sat up abruptly, staring at me.

“God in heaven, you are real!”

“So are you.” I lifted my chin to look up at him. “I th-thought you were dead.” I had meant to speak lightly, but my voice betrayed me. The tears spilled down my cheeks, only to soak into the rough cloth of his shirt as he pilled me hard against him.

I shook so that it was some time before I realized that he was shaking, too, and for the same reason. I don’t know how long we sat there on the dusty floor, crying in each other’s arms with the longing of twenty years spilling down our faces.

His fingers twined hard in my hair, pulling it loose so that it tumbled down my neck. The dislodged pins cascaded over my shoulders and pinged on the floor like pellets of hail. My own fingers were clasped around his forearm, digging into the linen as though I were afraid he would disappear unless physically restrained.

As though gripped by the same fear, he suddenly grasped me by the shoulders and held me away from him, staring desperately into my face. he put his hand to my cheek, and traced the bones over and over again, oblivious to my tears and to my abundantly running nose.

I sniffed loudly, which seemed to bring him to his senses, for he let go and groped hastily in his sleeve for a handkerchief, which he used clumsily to swab at first at my face, then his own.

“Give me that.” I grabbed the erratically waving swatch of cloth and blew my nose firmly. “Now you.” I handed him the cloth and watched as he blew his nose with a noise like a strangled goose. I giggled, undone with emotion.

He smiled too, knuckling the tears away from his eyes, unable to stop staring at me.

Suddenly I couldn’t bear not touching him. I lunged at him, and he got his arms up just in time to catch me. I squeezed until I could hear his ribs crack, and felt his hands roughly caressing my back as he said my name over and over.

At last I could let go, and sat back a little. He glanced down at the floor between his legs, frowning.

“Did you lose something?” I asked, surprised.

He looked up and smiled, a little shyly.

“I was afraid I’d lost hold altogether and pissed myself, but it’s all right. I’ve just sat on the alepot.”

Sure enough, a pool of aromatic brown liquid was spreading slowly beneath him. With a squeak of alarm, I scrambled to my feet and helped him up. After trying vainly to assess the damage behind, he shrugged and unfastened his breeches. He pushed the tight fabric down over his haunches, then stopped and looked at me, blushing slightly.

“It’s all right,” I said, feeling a rich blush stain my own cheeks. “We’re married.” I cast my eyes down, nonetheless, feeling a little breathless. “At least, I suppose we are.”

He stared at me for a long moment, then a smile curved his wide, soft mouth.

“Aye, we are,” he said. Kicking free of the stained breeches, he stepped toward me.

I stretched out a hand toward him, as much to stop as to welcome him. I wanted more than anything to touch him again, but was unaccountably shy. After so long, how were we to start again?

He felt the constraint of mingled shyness and intimacy as well. Stopping a few inches from me, he took my hand. He hesitated for a moment, then bent his head over it, his lips barely brushing my knuckles. His fingers touched the silver ring and stopped there, holding the metal lightly between thumb and forefinger.

“I never took it off,” I blurted. It seemed important he should know that. He squeezed my hand lightly, but he didn’t let go.

“I want–” He stopped and swallowed, still holding my hand. His fingers found and touched the silver ring once more. “I want verra much to kiss you,” he said softly. “May I do that?”

The tears were barely dammed. Two more welled up and overflowed; I felt them, full and round, roll down my cheeks.

“Yes,” I whispered.

He drew me slowly close to him, holding our linked hands just under his breast.

“I havena done this for a verra long time,” he said. I saw the hope and the fear dark in the blue of his eyes. I took the gift and gave it back to him.

“Neither have I,” I said softly.

His hands cupped my face with exquisite gentleness, and he set his mouth on mine.

I didn’t know quite what I had been expecting. A reprise of the pounding fury that had accompanied our final parting? I had remembered that so often, lived it over in memory, helpless to change the outcome. The half-rough, timeless hours of mutual possession in the darkness of our marriage bed? I had longed for that, wakened often sweating and trembling from the memory of it.

But we were strangers now, barely touching, each seeking the way toward joining, slowly, tentatively, seeking and giving unspoken permission with our silent lips. My eyes were closed, and I knew without looking that Jamie’s were, as well. We were, quite simply, afraid to look at each other.

Without raising his head, he began to stroke me lightly, feeling my bones through my clothes, familiarizing himself again with the terrain of my body. At last his hand t raveled down my arm and caught my right hand. His fingers traced my hand until the found the ring again, and circled it, feeling the interlaced silver of the Highland pattern, polished with long wear, but still distinct.

His lips moved over mind, across my cheeks and eyes. I gently stroked his back, feeling through his shirt the marks I couldn’t see, the remnants of old scars, like my ring, worn but still distinct.

“I’ve seen ye so many times,” he said, his voice whispering warm in my ear. “You’ve come to me so often. When I dreamed sometimes. When I lay in fever. When I was so afraid and so lonely I knew I must die. When I needed you, I would always see ye, smiling, with your hair curling up about your face. But ye never spoke. And ye never touched me.”

“I can touch you now.” I reached up and drew my hand gently down his temple, his ear, the cheek and jaw that I could see. My hand went to the nape of his neck, under the clubbed bronze hair, and he raised his head at last, and cupped my face between my hands, love glowing strong in the dark blue eyes.

Dinna be afraid,” he said softly. “There’s the t w o  of  u s  now.”

~ Voyager, Chapter 24, “A. Malcolm, Printer”

here’s the gay mac watchlist!! every title on the list has some noticeable hints, but some are more subtle than others. bolded titles are really gay (episodes where mac being gay is either explicitly discussed beyond an offhand comment, or there are details included that very obviously reflect closeted mac). asterisks after titles* indicate that components of that episode were written out of ignorance, and may only be indicators of “gay mac” when taking mac’s misogyny, transmisogyny, and/or Propensity To Be An Asshole into consideration, especially in early seasons. 

4.4 is the first instance where anyone directly mentions that mac is gay; the references become less and less subtle from there. as always, if this is your first time watching sunny, i recommend skipping season 1 and coming back later. hope you enjoy!!

Keep reading

10

Okay so I’ve been wondering about what if SnK fandom started calling their ships as YGO fandom does and came up with this

Feel free to add your suggestions for these ships’ alternate names or add new ships to the list! I’m personally a hardcore shipper of Reibert/Hometownshipping and Ereani/Crystal/Martialshipping thus having no problems with names for them, however I needed help of few friends to think up something for Ereri, Eruri etc ( @hazelhime @bitter-lollipops @littleladypunk)

Also SECOND SEASON OF SNK IS COMING IN 20 DAYS PREPARE YOUR BUTTS FOR INSANE AMOUNT OF FANARTS