#it might be silly

[solivagantingrebel]

So much of writing is just, trusting your voice and moving forward without looking back - realising that you will be stuck in one place if you don't. Sure, at first, that voice in your head isn't always refined, and what comes out isn't what you wanted, and it's beyond frustrating, but the more you move forward, the more you persist, the more you improve. It's like the universe guiding you, step by step, hand by hand, until you can grasp its hand tighter and start sprinting towards your goal, and when you reach it, when you look back to rejoice the milestone - the victory - the confidence -

You realise that the universe's face looks awfully like your own.

So much of writing is trusting yourself, finding worth in yourself that feels painful and useless on many days when you're just toiling away, wondering why you are even doing this. But the dirt on your palms and the callouses on your fingertips is a testament to that persistent, continuous effort to love yourself and in that cycle you realise that you've always been worth this amount of effort, trust and love. The physical proof is right there, staring back at you.

I think it's beautiful, honestly.

[thunderc1an]

tldr: for christmas my mom got me blanket with stolen warriors fanart

[doctorsiren]

The books reveal that Ford is actually a secret partier

(Available as a print on my Etsy Shop)

(wips under cut)

[clarisse-doodles]

inspired by this post, in which Damian does not know what Vine is

[raspberrylix]

on today's ash-is-so-stressed-cuz-of-their-own-fuck-up

learning vocab for a retake, and it's a hubling experience, but hey, you can count on me to somehow always bring it back to current fixations one way or another cuz what do we have here

[chloesimaginationthings]

These clown animatronics in FNAF wild as hell..

[egophiliac]

last chance to guess what the new round of birthday outfits will be!

[soosdraws]

obi-wan kenobi

[spurbleu]

think it’s really funny to imagine the younger men of the 141 realizing that price is actually super good with women.

soap plays knight- shows off to gawking birds, kyle’s pretty boy eyes and sharp tongue garner plenty of attention, and all simon needs to do is sit in the middle of the bar, waiting till a sweet thing asks him ‘what a big man like him is doing alone?’

price isn’t as engaged. let’s his boys have fun, but for the most part prefers to hang back. enjoy his liquor and cigarettes- let them do their thing. course, doesn’t go unnoticed. which spurs their assumption it’s not a ‘he wont’ and instead a ‘he cant’.

“‘fraid they might not like you, capm’?”

“aye gaz, play nice. ye know ta old man’s sensitive.”

“lost his spark, i reckon.”

they rib him for weeks on end about being an old man, no game, out of his prime, ect ect. it’s all light and fun of course, and combat keeps them busy enough that the jokes start to be forgotten. doesn’t occur to them that price has just been biting his tongue since the first blow.

until- night off. pub lights, tallboys and pretty women. familiar scene, type of place that has been in nasty dreams for weeks. kyle and soap are assessing the room, and simon’s silently following along. it takes them a minute to realize they’re captain is gone- but not 10 seconds to find him again- with a sweet, gorgeous bird on his arm by the bar.

silently, they watch as he effortlessly charms her. they count how many times she laughs, how eager she is to hold his arm, how, within in minutes, they’re already cozied up on a booth, nursing beer and making eyes.

and why wouldn’t she? classically handsome, mature, cute smile, a rugged exterior with a gentle execution. it’s a no-brainer for her when he offers to ‘get out of here’, and hold the muscles that breech from his shirt. doesn’t catch the way he glances over to a corner of the pub as they make their leave, small smile tugging at the burs of his mustache as he clocks the shock of his men’s faces under low lighting.

soap and kyle’s jaw break, meanwhile simon lets out a barking laugh.

“old man’s still got it.”

needless to say, all three men said nothing about losing his charm at the next debrief.

working on the fanfic now,,,,,

[dragonbonez]

An actual angel?

[technically-human]

Red string of fate

Be strong, Niko

[vinestaff]

sighs. another guy in my brain i guess

[hinata-boke]

context:

i love having mismatched merch for characters, like here's kuroo tetsurou (18) high school volleyball player and his good friend bokuto koutarou (18) high school volleyball player

[arealtrashact]

Newest additions to the pack

[petrowriting]

the revelation that claudia’s rebirth was such a twisted and horrible moment, with louis dragging her like she was a thing, a stranger who neither of them knew but he kept saying over and over “our daughter, our beautiful little daughter” to lestat, really solidified the way she was never the main character of her own story. she was always an accessory to some or the other of louis’ whims: his guilt, his loneliness, his conflict of being a killer, his rocky relationship with lestat. there was love there, love from both her fathers, but it was never enough. lestat saw her too much as a wretched mirror held up to his own self, and louis was always too steeped in his own feelings to care enough about hers. claudia’s story truly was the greatest tragedy in this tale, treated horribly by every man around her, even her fathers, relentlessly exploited and brutally ignored, always second and never first. the only one who loved her the way she deserved to be loved was madeleine, and the moment she truly had her, her happiness was torn from her. and just before she died, she got to see someone actually choose her in her entirety, not for what she can be but for who she is, and it still wasn’t enough. she still burned alive in the sunlight. the love was there, but it wasn’t enough to save her.

[auden-dahn]

"D-Don't worry about me! Focus on helping the little one, okay?" 🌠 panel redraw of @laikascomet