@once-youth

the signs as people i’ve known

aries: passionate verging on obsessive.  defensive of both themselves and the people they love.  few layers; what you see is more or less what you get.  good-hearted, intelligent.  always up for a challenge, but becomes stressed out very easily and handles stress very poorly.  even when they’re tired, they somehow seem so alert and two steps ahead of you.  responsible.  they prefer to lead and lead very well.  interesting, competitive, loyal.  although they like to be correct and love to prove people wrong, more than anything they just want someone to listen and expand on their point, not disagree with it. romantic but they like to pretend that they aren’t.  they seek instant gratification and hate doing things that they’re not naturally great at (but they’re naturally great at a lot).  can be very self-absorbed, but it’s not conscious.  so loving and so lovely.  the yang to my yin, the storm to my calm.  a friend who completes me.

taurus: extremely nice, and they never want to hurt anybody’s feelings, so they tend to skirt around the truth or omit their opinion.  truly, genuinely kind, the sort of person you hope will always stay in your life, the sort of person you feel like you really need.  dependable, hardworking, stable.  they have been through a lot, but looking at them, you wouldn’t know it.  will ultimately put themselves before you (which is a good thing), but is always there for you when they can be. very realistic; they know what they can achieve and expect themselves to do so.  private to a fault, and doesn’t usually express their feelings. there is something about their soul that makes me smile whenever i think of them. one of the people i love most in this world.  my equal, the friend who i hope knows how much i love them.

gemini: endlessly charming, supportive, and brave.  always wants to make everyone happy, often at the expense of their own desires, so they’ll do things they don’t want to do but be kind of grouchy about it, leading others to believe that they are picky and that they change their mind too much.  frequently changes the details of a story to either make it more interesting or get out of trouble.  wants more than anything to see and experience the good in the world but is very often a victim of the bad.  overly-trusting.  they can make any experience memorable, and they are the most fun you’ll ever have. quite self-critical but they also know that they have a certain power over people. forgetful, tolerant, warm.  often feels quite overwhelmed and may not handle this feeling wisely.  crazy but kind.  the one whom words fail to describe.  the biggest piece of my heart, my mother.

cancer: both friendly and intimidating.  difficult to read.  patient and cooperative but more often than not, they think their idea/opinion is better than yours.  very, very smart.  super dependable, so sensitive, hold grudges like it’s their life’s calling. courageous.  behave very differently around authority figures, likes being seen as innocent and cute. they will keep your secrets but they will kind of hold them over you, and they tend to taunt others by saying, “i know [x] about [y] and you don’t.”  very funny, dark, and sarcastic once you get to know them, but initially sweet and sugary.  survivalists; they protect themselves first and their loved ones second and don’t really care about everyone else. friendly. once they’re in a relationship, they become rather absorbed by it and neglect the other parts of their life.  dramatic, obsessive. rather strong-willed.  when they’re having an off day, get out of their way.  they will never forget anything you tell them.  they see life as an inside joke.  my figurative fraternal twin.  the friend who is just like me but whom i’ll never understand.

leo: impressively loving, astonishingly generous, the whole universe in one person.  soft and loud, wild and cautious.  they are full of power, grace, and energy, and they awaken within you the sense that you are good and that you can do whatever you want to do. even when they’re quiet, their presence is felt. very self-critical, constantly questioning their worth. always in need of validation, which is why they like to be the center of attention; in order to know that they’re a star, they require a standing ovation. they want to love themselves, they need to love themselves. such a romantic, wants to be wooed and adored, and they’ll gladly return the favor.  soothing.  they are so easy to trust, but they are more careful with their own secrets than they seem. they love with every bone in their body.  they want, more than anything, a best friend. loyal, inventive, go-getters. great listeners.  can somehow empathize with every situation, but are mildly obsessed with themselves. love winning. my idol, the part of myself i hope i grow into, my aunt.

virgo: hilarious, dependable, treats you like their kid.  trustworthy, sympathetic. they are fascinating and unique, but they are too attached to their own magic. more obsessive than they like to think they are.  they take criticism very well, perhaps because they dish it out even better. level-headed but aspirational. they prefer to be the less loving one in all of their relationships.  feels guilty for feeling sad or emotional. curious and interested.  can talk for hours if you let them.  kind and smart, wants to be special and different from everyone else. treats the people closest to them the worst. believes in tough love.  loves to joke and be sarcastic but usually takes it a few steps too far.  perfectionistic, which leads them to put little effort into things that they feel they can’t do flawlessly.  the one i protect who thinks they’re protecting me.  the friend whom i loved right away.

libra: angelic, enchanting, sweet.  picky. they are so afraid of offending someone that they have to know someone really likes them before they’ll be honest with them.  so many layers.  funny and diligent. treats everyone like their best friend, but when you are their best friend, there is just something so slightly different about how they treat you, something that makes you feel amazing. good at everything.  completely unable to make decisions. gossipers. they want to like everyone, but they just don’t.  absolutely hates saying no, but will do it if it’s 100% necessary.  sleepy and goofy around people they love. works hard to look good, trendy.  smart, fair.  nervous around authority figures. fearful of loss and of growing up.  secret control freaks.  they are at once youthful and wise.  crazy patient on the outside, just crazy on the inside. always somewhere on my mind, the one who i was always meant to know. my very best friend, my soul’s sister.

scorpio: the best listener. truly wants to know everything about you. extremely devoted, passionate.  knows you very, very well.  so funny, so kind.  will stick with you through thick and thin, always on your side.  gives great advice. the person across the room who you can’t stop staring at.  secretive, fearful, romantic.  both observant and judgmental. will hate you for judging them while they judge you.  their heart is bigger than anyone else’s, and all they really want is to fill it to its brim with love. very often the sidekick, but they stand out to me. they are quite obsessive and they rarely wait for explanations. they want to own the people they love.  intuitive.  loves you soooo much.  impossible to know fully. deep, powerful. the ocean flows inside them, yet all too often that ocean is stormy.  the person many people think i am, the person i sometimes i wish i was.  my confidante, my partner in crime, my heart, my friend.

sagittarius: the most supportive and dependable person on the planet.  an amazing friend, the best person to have in your corner.  honest and disorganized, friendly and capable.  very quick to anger and has a hard time admitting they’re wrong.  devotes themselves wholly and completely to their partner and puts them on a pedestal, but once they’ve moved on, they’ve really moved on.  tends to succeed, lucky.  has a hard time seeing the truth of a situation and often must be told what’s really going on.  charismatic and caring, overly generous.  can spread themselves thin.  guided chiefly by morals which they never abandon.  has a strong sense of right and wrong (specifically, they’re right, you’re wrong).  my backbone, my other mother.

capricorn: pensive and stoic.  has a brain that never stops going.  they wake up every morning in the climax of a novel they’ve written in their sleep.  loyal, just, intimidating.  cold and private.  mean to people who are mean to them.  shuts down entirely for seemingly no reason.  the wisest of all.  mature.  silently romantic. victim of their thoughts.  intense, original.  they want someone to fall really deeply in love with them, but they close themselves off to everyone. admires the beauty of the world, moved by small details that many people miss. always thinking of the future, no matter how good the present is.  judgmental. wants to be better than everyone else. exceptionally smart. often falling apart on the inside.  can think themselves into sickness, into joy, into anything. loves to be alone, hates more than anything to be lonely.  soft on the inside. the best leaders but they don’t like to lead.  kind-hearted and always doubting it. immensely fatalistic.  the dreamy head behind my eyes.  myself.

aquarius: very patient.  analytical, detached.  they have favorite people and things and they will be honest about who and what these favorites are.  they love you, they just can’t tell you.  wants to be cared for without caring in return. easy to talk to, somehow always makes you feel safe.  impressive intellect. generous with the people they love.  genuinely good, inspiring.  easily overwhelmed.  resorts to humor when offended.  doesn’t try very hard to act like they like someone they hate.  wants to be special.  artificially nice to authority figures.  can be surprisingly mean without intending to.  very good liars.  super funny.  compliments mean a lot coming from them.  the person i forget i am, the friend i should talk to more.

pisces: kind-hearted, funny.  to really know them, you kind of have to know them forever.  so easy to love.  hates to think about the difficulties of the world and prefers to just have fun.  very much in the present and tries not to think about the future.  as such, they sometimes behave without thinking and wind up messing things up for themselves.  they tend to be kind of lazy in regards to some things and extremely passionate in regards to others; there isn’t a lot of balance.  can be very mean and very angry.  won’t apologize first when you’ve made them mad. must express themselves in some way.  no matter how much they say that they love you, they always love you more than that.  quite sensitive, hates few things more than being called annoying. super generous, always wants to be there for you but hates not being able to make you happier. truly the sweetest. my favorite person, my brother.

Rhys,

Being cryogenically frozen for ten thousand years has left me with three things. The first, a recurring case of the sleep-chamber knees. The second, a penchant for standing up while I sleep. And lastly, your voice. A voice for which I thank the Ancients each quintant.

You know I considered myself a bit of a thespian in my youth. I once wrote, produced, directed and starred in a one-man musical entitled: “A Most Magnificently Humbled Servant.” A musical which I now dedicate to you.

Doppelgangrily yours,
Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe

You once said that a step towards recovery means I’ll need to break myself into pieces, darling I’ve been trying to put my heart back together. I like to step on myself sometimes, I don’t take compliments well because I don’t think too highly of myself. When you step on the same lego piece everyday even your ego starts to melt a little. You once said that if I find someone to hold my thoughts before I hold their heart– then maybe she’s the one. Or maybe there’s no one out there, who knows, right? We can circle around this a little longer than always, but I’ll always run back to the why. Why do I want to conquer my memories? Each city that I’ve built for them inside of my head is still bright and I’ve not let a single light bulb blow out, I’m so out of it– while thoughtlessly I’ve been reaching out of my head, my heart likes to beat me to it. It says that love can only be achieved if I chase after it. You once said that I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. Do you still believe in those words? Because if I’m not cruel to myself, I could be cruel to someone else. If I read enough books, do you think I’d finally own a chapter in my own life? If I open up some more, will I close off opportunities for myself to the prospect of loving myself? And what about them? Vanity is my master and I’m a slave. It’s okay to be a little vain sometimes, right? I’ve got it in my veins, maybe I’m the only honest one. You once said that if I trip over the same rock and stub my toe a million times within a week, you’d still say it’s okay. Like falling requires gravity to bend to my whispers. Like drowning demands my lies to swim back to shore. Like dying seeps through my eyes, how can I love if all I’ve got is missing pieces? You once said that a river flows like time and if I’m out of seconds– you’ll just record your voice saying I love you until I finally get it. I remember everything that love has to offer, but never the person. I remember the feeling of infection that is affection. And if I walk alone and get hit by a car, maybe it’s just another story that I won’t write. Some words live in between the lines, I’ve been seeing dualities. Life and death is just a kiss and hug. Black and white, storms and clouds are just pears and apples. Poetry and prose likes to sound sweet, but it’s the bitter bits of me that’s suicidal. Love and hate was born from strangers, so you never knew the difference between the moon and the sun– the lightness of tomorrow likes to coat the darkness of past days. Cigarettes and lung cancer, a dance of smoke that disguises itself as stress free, do you think I’ll die healthy? Drugs and my body, which one will make me feel better if I’ve been sweating for a week? You once said that we’re spinning around in a circle just waiting for someone to stop by– grab my attention and you can have my voice, steal from my hands and you can have my poems, which hurts more to have loved or to not have loved at all? An empty silence that’s so full of itself– I can’t hear myself think inside of my own head. I’ve got file cabinets tagged under read later, but I’m a sucker for love– so I feed into it. You once said if the sky breaks into a brighter day, you’ll be there. That is wishful thinking, my favorite kind. Words can’t give meaning to our story, but we still write. You once said that it has to mean something. Every statement paused long enough for several lifetimes to become real again. It feels like such a long time, but we’re still in love with them in there somewhere. It’s buried. It’s in a coffin, but it’s there and we know it. We can hear it. We can hear it. Fuck, we can hear it. That little beating that isn’t ours, it’s always theirs. And that’s my fear, you once said that maybe that’s my fate– I’m supposed to cling onto that strand of innocence, of who I used to be, to remember what it feels like to feel, it has to mean something. Giving meaning to nothing, my favorite pastime. Giving something to someone, the only way that I’ve been living. You once said that until I learn to keep more for myself, I’ll always end up in square one– alone, but as long as I’ve got you, it’s not true, right? Some thoughts like to sleep alone, that’s not one of them. Hold onto that piece of us, the poetic storm that is joy. Keep your kindness to a burn, a stretched out sunrise screaming your name is my simmer. I know about nothing and that’s my one redeeming quality. I know that I don’t know shit, and that’s why I write like this. I know that I don’t love like I used to, and that’s why I love like this. I know that I’m not the same person from last year, and that’s why my guilt likes to trip up. I know that I’m no longer in love with her, but I can’t seem to explain the empty feeling unless I spell her name backwards under a star somewhere that I can’t touch. I know that I’m still messed up, but I’m just taking advantage of my youth. You once said some people will get over you in a week, but it’ll take you a lifetime to get over someone. If forever is a drug then I’ve overdosed. If always is a lie then I’ll take the beautiful. If never is more and a secret is sore– then I’m sorry about the words that didn’t stop, I am trying. I am always trying. You once said that if we kiss the ocean long enough, the mountains will answer. I’ve buried my love letters on the highest mountain and emptied my heart into my art. If I live long enough to spread my wings, do you think I’d still be condemned? Life is too short to live in the past, but I can’t stop asking about my what ifs. Love is too long to just be over, but I’ll just keep painting over it with a new layer of red. If you’re still reading, then I’m still writing. This yin and yang battle of ours has no meaning. Tortured souls live in the canvas and I’ve seen enough chains– I shall be unbound someday. You once said I love you– darling, that’s the only fucking truth that I believe in. You once said that soulmates aren’t always lovers– I guess it’s just you. You once said that flowers don’t just bloom, they wilt– so I guess I’m just withered. You once said that if you had your way, I’d own the universe. You don’t get it. When you became my best friend, I got it.
—  You once said

Now that I think about “The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas,” I came up with a small theory/metaphor.

I wrote a summary here for those who haven’t read the short story yet.
So the whole idea is based around this ‘perfect’ town by the sea called Omelas. The people of Omelas have a young child that has been sacrificed to keep the townspeople happy (with happiness comes evil theme). This child is not allowed to be fed nor spoken to by anyone. People can go see the child in person, but some walk away from Omelas not bearing the true horror the townspeople hold.

My point is that Bangtan gave themselves their group name in order to block/guard youth. “So [our name] means that we will boldly defend our music and our value and worth as people.” Maybe the music video will hold a metaphor of Bangtan protecting the neglected child. They’re against what the townspeople of Omelas have done to a child to keep their happiness. So while some walk away and never return to Omelas, they stay to protect the youth. Y’all get me? I’m almost positive this might be the message Bangtan will try to get across in the Spring Day music video.

I grow older day by day, and with each day that passes, I know that you grow old as well. The smile that once was filled with youth is now beginning to show lines of age. The laugh that once came so easily now choked out by coughs. You used to ask me once, now you ask me so many times that I am worried. You are precious to me, you brought me into this world. You taught me so much, you have loved me beyond what I deserved. You are growing old, and all I want to do is stop time so that I will always have you. I’m not ready to say goodbye, I don’t think I ever will be.
—  T.B. LaBerge // Parents

carnelianflames  asked:

Prompt: Selene and Endymion

i was once a youth molten, crimson,
shapeless. now i am shadows & pressed
dust, a creature of distant desire, but should
that mean i mustn’t still be full of warmth
deep in the hidden core of me?

listen, my flesh & fire-smoke man:
do you hear even through sleep how tides
churn, how the white-petaled datura bloom, how
this earth aches? my shepherd with callouses
on your mortally golden hands, the gravity

of your soul draws me in with such
tenderness, you needn’t even look at me
for this love to rise. come here, my sun-blooded
dreamer: let me free you from the heavy
tomb of your waking bones. let me take

your beauty captive with the touch
of my ancient mouth.

Some Boba Fett Headcanons:
  • Every time he has to fly planetside, especially in the core, he screams about the traffic like the Brirtish guy from vine.
  • Boba LOVES break-up songs and the country music genres of  “gonna kill my cheatin’ liar of a husband”.
  • He’s never had a long-term romantic relationship but he knows enough people that need killing that he can sympathize.
  • When alone, he sings really loudly and off key.  It’s great for staying awake on long flights.
  • In his youth, Boba once bought space weed from a young Han solo, but neither ever realized they’d met before.
  • Boba owns some sort of fluffy animal that he chronically over-feeds because he has trouble saying “No” to that face.
  • When he’s not working, he wears really soft and too-large clothing because what’s the point of taking large commissions if he can’t have a few nice things.
  • Boba took the news of Han’s death at the hands of his son really hard.  He’d more or less given up on the rivalry after the sarlacc incident, but hearing that someone he’d more or less been a young man with had died bothered him.  Furthermore that Ben had done it.  He was a cute kid.  Boba had nearly abducted him once as a final attempt at getting even with him, but didn’t go through with it.  maybe the galaxy would be a better place now if he had.
  • Boba visits Leia after Han’s death.  He’d never liked her husband or brother, but he’d always admired the iron in her.  Of the extant skywalkers, she’s the most like the original, who while an ass, was a respectable warrior.  The meeting is brief, tense and in one of the deserted halls of the rebel base at 4 AM when she can’t sleep, but she appreciates the chance to be furious and bitter in front of someone who would understand how things go wrong.
  • They part as understanding, if not necessarily friends.
  • Dude drinks SO MUCH caff.  Like, he puts espresso in his black coffee levels of caffeine addiction.
  • Boba ONLY drinks alcohol when he’s in a business meeting where the others insist on doing it too.  He drank really heavily in his late teens and twenties, then one day decided he didn’t like what it did to him and quit cold turkey.

I’m more than a little concerned about the messages I’m reading and receiving about Erin being jealous of Ellie. I feel an overwhelming need to speak up on Ellie’s and Erin’s behalf.

I just don’t think people understand Ellie and why she acted the way she did. She wasn’t “after” Jay. It was a conditioned response based on survival. The girl was being pimped out and abused by god knows how many people. Repeat: this young GIRL has been ABUSED. She though Jay was just another john looking to exploit her. She honestly believed that in order to stay alive she had to do these things. That the only way to secure her future was to sacrifice her body. But yeah let’s turn the victim into a villain.

It took Ellie so long to believe Jay actually wanted to help her because that kind of person doesn’t exist in her world. You see her demeanour change when she realized Jay was trying to help her? She didn’t want to have sex with him. She wasn’t trying to steal Erin’s man. She thought she had to have sex with him to get what she needed and once she realized she was safe all sexualized behaviours stopped towards Jay.

You see her smile when she realized Erin was his girlfriend? That was the smile of a young girl who witnessed true love in front of her, maybe for the first time. And he’s now a role model for her. She now believes there are good guys, love does exist, relationships don’t have to be about trading favours. He’s turned her perspective on men on its side and that is going to change her life. It’s going to change the self talk in her head. An honourable honest guy like Jay who turned down all her advances and who clearly has a successful strong woman as his life partner tells Ellie he believes her and thinks she’s worth helping…. kinda sounds like how Voight giving a shit about Erin changed her life too doesn’t it?

But this is a perfect example of the hate culture with women. They automatically pit woman against woman and ignore the deeper issues that drive the behaviour. You want to sit here and tell me Erin is going to be jealous of a sexually abused child who’s doing the only thing she knows how to survive? You want to discredit how obviously uncomfortable Jay was and how tortured he was? This is the same mentality that tells rape victims they deserved it because of the clothes they were wearing.

Never mind the narrative that’s playing in Erin’s head… she was (almost) one of these girls. She knows what they would do/ need to do to stay alive. Her heart is probably breaking for Ellie (and Jay) she made sure Ellie had a good safe place to go. She handled her with genuine care and nurturing because she knows how pivotal this moment can be for her. Not the actions of a jealous woman.

And Erin TRUSTS her partner. So much so she didn’t realize he needed to hear the reassurance that he did right by this girl until he projects all his frustration and discomfort on the unit, accusing them of not believing him (even though this is not what they think). For Erin, Jay doing the right thing was a given. A foregone conclusion. She knew, just as she did with Terry and Ethan, her role here was to help her partner navigate a difficult case.

And just stop with the Erin was marking her territory when she said “meet you at home” NO Erin was paying Jay the ultimate moment of respect and trust, walking away and letting him get closure with this girl while reminding him she will be there for him when he needs her.

THAT’S WHY YOU HAVE BACKUP

And if you think Erin would be jealous in this scenario, I’m sorry but I think you may have missed the whole basis and beauty of Linstead.

This was a compelling story about marginalized youth and once again we got to dive deep into Jay’s character and the inner conflicts of the officers who have to work cases like this.

This is not a teen relationship drama. Yes they have screwed up the writing of linstead in the past but in this episode it was perfect. The writer captured perfectly the subtle beauty of the unwavering trust, love, support and respect Jay and Erin have for each other. If you want a story based solely on linstead and relationship dramas I can highly recommend some great fanfic… hell I even write some of it.

I have so much praise to give everyone involved in this episode. This episode, the right balance of case and character development, is an example of why I’m so passionate about this show.

I don’t care who reads this, I treat Tumblr like a journal, like as if I’m telling this to a close friend, but I can’t tell people things, that’s why I remain anonymous. But I need to let some things out.
A portion of my childhood, was growing up with a severely depressed mom. A year after we escaped our abusive dad, she fell into that deep depression.
I was young, 5-11 years old.
I remember, she would lay on the couch all day. In our dark, small apartment. That’s what I remember most, was how dark it was. She barley spoke, she just stared at our broken, blank tv screen, without emotion, with a dead look in her eyes. Being a kid, I never understood why she would lay their for hours, and only get up 3-5 times a day.
Sometimes she would just lay in her room and not come out for days.
At night, I would hear her cry. I used to think it was a ghost until I worked up the courage to run into her bed for protection, and realized that the crying was coming from her.
Sometimes her crying would keep me up, but I grew used to it.
My mom would sometimes get very angry and annoyed. Those were the times she was most verbal and less mute.
She would sometimes hit us with hangers. Or shoes, kitchen cooking utensils, or just anything in her hand, mostly with her hand, sometimes with a closed fist.
It wasn’t abuse, she was just very upset. And I understand that now.
I remember she sent us to live with our granny, and a couple days before we left, we took our photo album and cut out all the pictures of us, and made a collage that she could keep if she missed us. We tried giving it to her before our Granny picked us up.
She got really pissed and told us that she won’t miss us at all, and that she was going to start over and forget about us forever.
I cried for an hour, because being a kid, I thought that was the last time I was ever going to see her…
But of course I saw her again.
She struggled with getting jobs and keeping the rent up. She struggled with depression, and ptsd. She struggled with her self worth. She struggled with keeping hope.
Sometimes i look at the past and then the present moment.
How depressed she was, and now she’s 40, currently in university studying law.
She’s helped hundreds of women cope with abusive boyfriends, she’s had several good paying jobs, she put food on the table every night with no worry, she was once a youth program coordinator and sat on a couple Board of directories, she’s a focus therapist, and spoke about domestic violence, and intergenerational trauma at a few conferences.
She’s a strong, confident, motivated, proud, happy, humble, beautiful and inspiring woman.
If that isn’t proof that things really do get better, then I don’t know what is.

Hatefuck seems a very angry title for a song, and I wouldn’t have been surprised to encounter irate scowling, aggro raging music upon hitting the play button. But I went into it knowing the song comes from Cruel Youth, the soulful pop project formed by Natalia Kills or Teddy Sinclair and her husband, artist/producer Willy Moon. This Hatefuck, despite biting lyrics much anguished and distressed, is a bittersweet melter. Cruel Youth once again evokes Lana Del Rey and Amy Winehouse with their brandy wined, husky deep vocals and their retro crackling 60′s pop charm. At times, I nearly forget I’m not listening to Hatefuck off of an old record player. Hatefuck will be on Cruel Youth’s debut EP, +30mg, out September 16th. The single can be purchased now from iTunes.

Made with SoundCloud

time helps you forget your wounds

2000 years is a long fucking time to be alive

LINK

//friends are dead, dresses//help i’m alive, metric//some nights, fun.//viva la vida, coldplay//pork soda, glass animals//savages, marina and the diamonds//gravel to tempo, hayley kiyoko//i’m not your hero, tegan and sara//in for the kill (ft. kanye west), la roux//all at once, allan rayman//disparate youth, santigold//kill v. maim, grimes//heads will roll, yeah yeah yeahs//the cave, mumford & sons//

I’m way past my teen years, and it pains me to see such heartbreakingly bad advice given to young Muslim teens on here. I’m breaking my rule about not getting involved in anything on tumblr for a sec.

Feelings are a natural part of life. Being ashamed that you have feelings is an unhealthy way of dealing with them. If someone tells you that you’re a teenager and you’ll get over it, it means that a) they understand that they’ve passed their teen years and b) they refuse to understand you. When a teen, feelings experienced are so intense and felt for the first time ever, it doesn’t make sense that there are going to be other ‘mature’ feelings that will evolve through time and experience. Since teens have never experienced anything else. 

I’m a little tired of imams and other adults telling young people they’re dumb and need to grow up. We’re all mature in certain areas of our life, and immature in other areas of our life. We’re all moving parts that need to grow. And we grow unequally. 

Your feelings are not haraam. They are feelings. And God decided to give them to you. Does that mean you should pursue the relationship? I don’t know, I’m not in your situation, but realistically, do you believe you’re in a place where you can do adult things when you are not doing many other adult things in life? Where you can take on the responsibilities of a relationship - the in-laws, the house, the saving money, the making money, the pursuing education, the birth control, the fights, the really obnoxious fights, the im-thinking-of-getting-divorced-fights (yes, many healthy couples have these fights), etc. This should be a very difficult question to answer, not something that comes with an immediate yes or no. 

Among my acquaintances I once knew a youth who was bogged down in love and stuck fast in its toils, passion had grievously affected him, sickness had worn him out. Yet his soul found no comfort in praying to Almighty God to remove his afflictions; his tongue was not loosed in any petition for deliverance. His only prayer was to be united with and to be possessed of the one he loved, despite the enormity of his sufferings and the long protraction of his cares. (What is one to think of the sick man who desires not to be rid of his sickness?). One day I was seated with him, and felt so distressed at the visible evidence of his miserable condition, his head cast down, his staring eyes, that I said to him, ‘May God grant you relief!’ I at once observed in his face the marks of strong displeasure with what I had said.

Ibn Hazm, Ring of the Dove (An Islamic treatise on love, highly recommend reading it) 
via ConsciousMuslim

If one is sick, we pray for their health. We act in ways that will improve their health. Ask God to improve your health. To teach you a lesson in this trial. To learn how to navigate to a straight path. To see things from a perspective beyond the feelings. To understand that no one but God deserves to be on a pedestal. To recognize all forms of love lead us to God. 

Pray for more than what the heart immediately desires, pray for something higher. 

The Grapevine’s Lament

Anthologia Palatina 9.261 = Epigonos of Thessalonica (1st cent. BCE?)

I, the vine, once enjoyed a youth
Full of vine-blossoms blooming finely,
And brought forth grapes in long-stretched clusters.
But now I am growing old, as you see.
Behold how time subdues us all!
Even the cluster of grapes must feel
The wrinkled furrows of old age.

Ἡ πάρος εὐπετάλοισιν ἐν οἰνάνθαις νεάσασα
    καὶ τετανῶν βοτρύων ῥᾶγα κομισσαμένη
νῦν οὕτω γραιοῦμαι. ἴδ’, ὁ χρόνος οἷα δαμάζει·
    καὶ σταφυλὴ γήρως αἰσθάνεται ῥυτίδων.

Still Life of Grapes and a Peach on a Table-top, follower of Jan van Huysum, prob. 19th century

Joey K’s father was an overbearing guy to say the least, forcing baby K into all manner of unwanted extracurricular activities: Lacrosse, softball, debate team. He even forced the kid into a church youth group once. It didn’t go over well.

The only extra lessons K actually enjoyed were the piano lessons.

Music, after all, soothes the savage beast.

K’s music was one of the few things that his wild, restless pack could sit still through.

Proko sat on the bench beside him, one hand on his thigh, the other pillowing his cheek against the K’s shoulder.

Jiang sat behind the bench, his head tilted back, pressing the back of his head to the base of K’s spine.

Skov and Swan laid together under the piano.

Skov kept his arms crossed beneath him, pillowing his head on them, his eyes closed, just listening.

Swan, being the most physical of the pack, laid on his back, pressing one hand to his own chest, the other to the belly of the piano, trying in vain to match his heartbeat to the rhythm pulsing through his fingertips.

After K’s death and Proko’s fall into the dream place, none of the pack boys could bear to listen to classical music anymore, save Jiang, who’s loaded his iPod with it, playing it for Proko anytime he visits him in the hospital.

Jacob Frye [40 y/o] - The Clockwork Soldier

Originally posted by library-mermaid

A/N: Jacob Frye (40) in a steampunk AU I thought up awhile back. I guess it’s X reader-ish, as I don’t talk about the girl in the stables much. Enjoy—just a small story. Nothing big. (Came out rather depressing, but my pieces write themselves sometimes.)

 

There are many islands, and each one is a floating island with a different style type and history. Shakeep has a Victorian London motif, always raining and where the Steam Legion started. Each king/queen has an airship to make traveling from one island to the next easier. Each mention of a place and the rules and such of the islands were made up a long time ago in a RP I orchestrated, so that belongs to me~. Enjoy~.

Rated: SFW


Word Count: 2,502

A sharp inhale from a nightmare that plagued the king of Shakeep Island broke the silence of his bedroom. Sweat upon his brow, Jacob’s hazel eyes shifted to and fro nervously for the foe that was about to attack him in that dream only to find that it was truly just so—a dream. Remaining on his side, the ruler brought his hand to his face to try and wipe the worry from him and remove the tears he could feel there upon his cheeks.

He could lie to anybody and say it was sweat given how drenched he felt, but in truth, the nightmare that crippled him was of memories past…memories from the past Steam War and of his late sister.

Jacob sighed, his heart heavy with grief at the memory. The bastards killed her and, also, killed his wife as a means to make him regret his title and authority over the people of Shakeep. Both of them pleaded in their final moments not to let him surrender the lives of the many for theirs, and now, he was forced to live with the misery, almost resenting his people for such a tough choice he had to make.

But, Jacob couldn’t think on that now. He had to get up and prepare for the day. If the nearby clock was any indication, it was nearly nine in the morning.

Getting up was going to be hard. It had been ever since the Steam Legion got a hold of Jacob and forced gears upon him when he refused to join them and their ranks after the murder of those closest to him. His left leg was no longer organic and the same could be said for his right arm. Both were taken from him during his captivity and now, the once former bits of him that were removed were replaced with steam and gears making up robotic parts that the steam fanatics left as a means to damn him for his decision.

But that wasn’t what made moving hard.

A giant, half gear was implanted within his spine just below his neck and ending right at his lower lumbar. It was heavy, always had been, but Jacob supposed that could be a metaphor for how much he lost in that war and how the weight of the death of many weighed upon him so. It had been years since this infernal thing was implanted upon him, but the days and nights had gotten easy in trying to adjust to the new handicap the foes marked him with.

Normally, Jacob called for aid, but he was sick of relying on others to help him get out of bed. He was forty damn years of age…he wasn’t eighty. Grabbing at his nightstand with one hand, he slowly began to pull his legs to the carpeted flooring before managing to sit upright without help.

Perfect.

His lower back was feeling a bit stiff, so he knew he would have to see his doctor about it later, but for now, he wanted to try and walk around the room and adjust to the idea of being up and about without help. The gears in his left leg churned and clicked, steam misting from them as they settled into place and allowed him the support Jacob needed to stand as firm as he could be. Because of the weight of the massive half-gear in his back, Jacob had startled to slump slightly forward—again, feeling older than he was.

Jacob growled, wishing more than ever he could get his hands on the men and women responsible for this horrid act upon him, but he knew they would be difficult for him to catch in the state he was. This is why he was relieved that his son, Emmett, and his other adopted son, Jack, were out and about doing the task for him.

“No doubt the two of them are still prancing about as we speak,” Jacob mumbled to himself, his feet soon leaving the carpet and walking across the black and white marbled flooring to obtain his cane-sword to which he kept propped up near his desk just near the balcony area.

He never realized what a long walk it was without it until his palm finally found the golden, curved face of the bird of prey in his possession. Again, Jacob moved his fingers to his eyes to try and rid the sleep from them as well as the sadness from the memories that plagued him. A bath would do to try and relax him, and while Jacob could take pride in the fact he stood upright without somebody’s help (minus the cane-sword), that was all he could manage for now.

The cane tapping upon the marble flooring, Jacob made it to his bedroom door where he cracked it open a bit to talk with the guards standing just outside. They were both startled at the sight of Jacob up and about without a servant having gone in there earlier to help him. “I need assistance with my bath. Send someone, won’t you?”

The guards didn’t hesitate, and one quickly took his leave to fetch someone for Jacob.

Jacob knew the one remaining wanted to talk to him—ask how he was—but the king was far from feeling chatty and merely shut the door once more to make his way to the edge of his bed where he sat to try and recollect himself and put weight off of his legs. His head lowered, he moved the organic hand to his forehead, motioning the wet and messy strands of his hair about his face with a nasally sigh. “What life am I living now…? Is it worth it?” Jacob murmured to himself, hardly feeling as he once was in his youth.

Who knew a single war could scar him so much.

 

Two of the female servants were happy to aid him when it came to his request for a bath. Normally, he looked forward to such moments as this, but now they were bland, annoyances, and he just wanted it to be over and done with so he could make his escape to his own personal solitude. Upon fetching his clothing for the day (most of which had to be torn to make room for the gear), Jacob decided to head down to the stables in hopes of finding peace and, perhaps, some form of lost happiness.

He use to love the stables so much he would refuse any help with his horses, but after the ending of the Steam War two years ago, Jacob never found the energy to move from his bed nor was there enough pain medicine to really stabilize his new transformation.

The stables were to the right of the castle and could be reached from outside the castle or even inside. The pasture was huge and took up quite a few acres of land about Shakeep as Jacob bought, bred, and sold horses when able seeing as his sister was to take the throne—not him—so horses became his favorite pastime. The stables were a circular building, spreading out with rows of stalls on the east, west, and northern areas of the building with the tack room being not far from the entrance at the south.

Jacob sighed when passing the tack room, peering into the musty old window just to look at the many unused bridals and saddles that lie in wait to be cleaned. He used to spend so much time caring and playing with the horses that he would spend the night in there on an old cot if he didn’t locate that cot to one of the stalls to sleep beside some of his favorites. Now, it had been so long since he ventured to the stables that the smell—the once easily adjusted to scent of uncleanliness—started to irritate his nose.

“Whoa—easy boy…!” Jacob heard from the right hallway of the stables, prompting the ruler to make his way slowly to the sight.

It was a woman—probably someone they hired in his absence to tend to his prized and beloved creatures. Jacob couldn’t say he recognized her, but he watched her closely from where she was trying to harness one of the stallions, it seemed. He couldn’t see which one, but as his eyes squinted to adjust to the steed she was trying to wrangle with gently, it was there he felt a panic rise in his chest.

It was one of his stallions. A beautiful, black Friesian horse with wavy mane and tail he named Collide. Collide had been unstable for a few months now, and nobody had found a time to fetch a vet to check out what may be the problem. All Jacob was told, while lying in bed, was that the steed had been acting aggressive and acting up as of late. Emmett assumed it to be pain somewhere in the body, but he didn’t know where Collide was in pain even after having checked everywhere on the steed before the creature bit him.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, raising her hands upward to Collide, not knowing Jacob was nearby. “I’m not going to hurt—!”

But the horse neighed a rather disgruntled and disapproving neigh, rearing up then with his ears flat against his head as he struck her chest with his front hooves.

Seeing the woman fall backward and land on her side harshly and Collide threatening to stomp on her if he got the chance, Jacob ran between them to halt the scene from playing out. Getting to them just in time, Jacob raised his robotic arm to Collide with a ‘whoa’ of his own, letting the stallion settle at the sight of his master he had gone so long without.

Collide expressed a mixture of emotion at the appearance of Jacob, his ears swerving back and forth between interest and aggression, but upon realizing that this was indeed his master, the Friesian breed bowed his head and backed down. The man could tell that the horse was glad to see him but also not happy all the same—the wild look in Collide’s eyes told Jacob to stay way, and so he did, respectfully.

Jacob sighed his relief, shutting the stall door and locking it into place before turning around to meet the eyes of the woman who was foolish enough to try and mess with Collide. Surely she was told of his condition? “You are bloody reckless to try that bit,” Jacob scolded, moving his hand for hers to take. “Are you alright?”

She flinched when she moved as her chest felt bruised from the impact but her pride was also a bit hurt with her king scolding her. “I-I’m fine…it just hurts…a bit.”

“To be expected,” said Jacob simply, cocking a brow at her words. “Had been kicked in the chest before myself. I once even got a broken rib from that, so be thankful you are not in such a state.”

Again, she folded her hands before her and looked away. She would ask for forgiveness, but she knew what she was trying to do was wrong.

“Did they tell you nothing of this horse?” Jacob asked, thumbing over his shoulder at where Collide remained, his hoof now beating against the wooden door in desperation to get out, it seemed, to continue the fight with the girl who so brazenly tried to tame him.

The woman reluctantly departed with an answer, her words trembling as she spoke. “They did.”

“And?”

“I’m sorry, your Highness,” she quickly apologized, her hands clasped tightly before her dirtied pants she wore about the stables. “I just…I know you’ve been out of sorts lately, and I wanted to try and…I don’t know…” Every thought that passed her mind felt like an excuse, and she darned not continue it.

Jacob could tell she was saddened by his response to the situation, making him sigh and straighten up slightly with both hands upon the head of his cane-sword. “Stay away from him,” Jacob ordered gently. “Collide is usually never aggressive, but he’s become so as of late, and I need to get a vet in here to check on him.”

“I-I can phone in one for you, sire,” the woman insisted, raising her hand at the offer.

“If you can find the time to spare in doing so, then please.” Jacob was trying not to sound sarcastic, but he couldn’t help but wonder why none of this was done any sooner when his son admitted that it could be a health issue. It was then he tried to change the topic for a moment, nodding in her direction. “You are the only one tending to the horses?”

“Not just me; heavens, no!” she insisted, hand to her chest at the mere thought. “There are many other men and women who help at different times of the day and such. I’ve seen Prince Emmett in here as well helping when he can.”

Then why the bloody hell did he not phone a vet? Jacob thought, shaking his head and rubbing between his eyes when the woman wasn’t looking. “Brilliant,” he expressed in an exasperated sigh. “I am sure I can count on you not to be foolish again and try to tame this horse for me?”

A blush of embarrassment crept across her cheeks as she bowed her head with a nod. “Yes, your Highness,” she muttered. “I just thought that…you would…enjoy riding again, you know?”

Jacob stopped in his stride down the corridor, turning and looking upon her as though he were offended.

Again, it made her recoil. “I’ve seen all the photographs of you riding and such…I just—.”

“That was a long time ago,” interrupted Jacob, his voice tinged with anger at such a memory being implanted upon him yet again. Realizing that he was letting his aggression get the better of him, he took in a heavy sigh and shook the thought from him. “Just…just be careful,” he whispered, turning his back on her and walking away, finding no peace there as he had hoped…

…only pain.

Vengeance ~ Part I

Peter Parker x OC

requested? Nope

Warning? none

Note: So here it is!!!! The sequel!!! I hope you love part one it was so much fun writing it with the talented hoebag @rejectcentral!!!!!!! So sit back, relax, and enjoy the story…


Tony Stark’s POV:

~Six months after Samara’s death~

It’s been 6 months since my daughter died and her spider boyfriend went and gave up the spandex because he couldn’t deal with looking at the citizens of New York without feeling the failure weigh so heavily on his shoulders.

Peter Parker isn’t special, I feel the same way he does. I failed protecting my own child, my heir, but you don’t see me throwing in my suits. Actually the opposite, I seem to have fallen deeper into the depths of rage and depression.

Pepper ended our ‘break’ the moment I  found out that Samara died. I drank bourbon and whiskey until I couldn’t see straight and drunk dialed her. I didn’t expect her to come back, I also didn’t expect her to run into my garage as I was throwing tools around and calm down my raging ass.

What Peter and I will always have in common is that we are changed by the events that took place, and not for the better either.

“This is your 30th time looking Tony..” Pepper said in a knowing voice.

“Not the last either if I don’t find her…I know you’re looking out for me, I do and I appreciate it, trust me, but as long as Samara’s body is out there not found I will never give up looking. I need to lay my baby to rest.” I said, determination and a slight crazed tone laced my voice.

Pepper nodded her head sadly, placing her hand on my Iron Man metal suit chest, and gave me a peck on my cheek before I closed the metal mask.

“You’ll be home for dinner?” She asked backing away giving me space. I took a deep breath and felt the rockets in my feet kick on, sending me flying into the air. As I flew above New York I couldn’t help but watch the scene of Sam dying all over again. I was able to hack security cameras from all over the city to capture the entire event. All that I want now is to be able to find her body and put her to rest, at least that will give me some sort of relief that this whole ordeal is over. I turned on F.R.I.D.A.Y and had her begin to scan the river and along all of its banks for what seemed like the 300th time since Samara’s death. Again, she came up with nothing. I couldn’t say that I expected much more from her, F.R.I.D.A.Y. was just a computer program anyways, she wasn’t perfect. Sighing, I was about to fly back to the tower before I saw a familiar blue sweatshirt sitting on a firescape, staring blankly into the dusk scenery of Queens. I slowly flew down to Parker, knowing that he was having as rough of a time as anyone, after all he had known Samara the longest. The kid looked like he just had the shit beat out of him numerous times, probably has without Sam to defend him and make him grow some balls like she used to. I landed beside the sulking boy, the metal from my suit clanking against the rust of the old steel. Parker looked over, his face neutral yet his eyes seemed like they had no life inside of them. All of the once youthful and innocent glow was now gone, replaced with a familiar stare, one that I had acquired over the past few months.

“Hey kid.” My voice was scratchy and raw from all of the emotions that I was still feeling course through my veins. He looked my suit up and down before returning his head back to his hands which rested on a bar in front of him, his legs dangling in front of him in the dusty air.

“I was looking around and I saw you, how are you?”

Peter didn’t respond at first, he didn’t even lift his head, he just shifted his eyes in my direction before answering. “I’m…fine,” Peter replied shortly breathing deep. “Well whenever you feel like being Spiderling again wing by,” I awkwardly patted him on the back, “Will do Mr. Stark.” Peter said doing a small salute, it’s sad watching such a bright spirited kid slowly lose his happiness. I could understand where he was coming from though, it was easy to see (though I didn’t normally approve) that they made each other better people… happier people.

Before I left to go back to the tower I had to tell Peter words of advice, he needs it.

“Samara wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself. If you loved her at all you’d see that this, all of what you’re doing,” i motioned around us in the air, sighing before I continued knowing it was like the blind leading the blind for me to give advice. “This isn’t what she died for kid, and you know it too, deep down.”

His expression seemed like I slapped him in the face. Before he could speak I was gone, I just hope that he takes what I said to heart.

As I was flying back, F.R.I.D.A.Y said the very thing that fought for so long to hear.

“I have spotted Samara Callalily Stark.”

My heart seized and my breath came out in short spurts, “give me the coordinates.”  Once F.R.I.D.A.Y gave me the directions I feel faint, my daughter has been on a bank of sand hidden from the eyes of coast guards, police and myself; but now she’s finally found, and her suffering is now truly over.

F.R.I.D.A.Y has directed me to a bed of calla lilies, under the bridge. I see multiple carts of clothes and homeless people scattered under the bridge for shelter.

“She’s here? Been here this whole time?” I asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. Confused I walked out of the suit and dropped to my knees, I letting my fingers graze over the flowers that smell of sweetness and happiness.

“No, actually Mr. Stark. I would estimate Samara has been recently buried, I say a few weeks, the flowers have grown from seeds at an aggressive rate.” F.R.I.D.A.Y said quizzically, I start to panick and rip the flowers from their roots. Someone has taken my baby’s body and returned it, what have they done?  

“Help! Help F.R.I.D.A.Y! She’s down here!” I yell digging with my bare hands. After a few minutes with F.R.I.D.A.Y’s help we see something wrapped in tarp. I almost stop, suddenly scared at what I’d find, the smell alone sends me into shock.

Someone has been here and tampered with my daughter’s remains.

F.R.I.D.A.Y kept digging and I sit there with a dirty hand clamped over my mouth. F.R.I.D.A.Y wraps the suit’s arms around the body shaped tarp and pulled it out.

“Mr. Stark would you like to open it now or-”

“At the tower…We need the tools there to find out why someone took her body.” I said, F.R.I.D.A.Y then gently placed Samara’s body on the sand to let me get into the suit, once I got into the suit I gently carry my child in my arms. Her body hung limply in my arms, dirt covering her skin, tinting it a darker tone than normal. As we flew through the air, her once vibrant blonde hair was now a strawberry blonde, something that I hadn’t noticed when I first discovered her body. I don’t ever remember her coloring her hair when she lived in the tower with me, so how did her hair color change? Maybe it was from the dirt somehow, I don’t know and I don’t really care at this point. All I know is that I have my daughter again.

“Tony you’re home ea-My God! You found her!” Pepper yelled in surprise once I landed on the tower, though I would love to talk to Pepper about finding my deceased daughter this was more important. So I keep walking, straight to the lab.

I opened the suit and carried Samara down to the lab, just to have a little more time with her before officially burying her. As I opened the glass doors, F.R.I.D.A.Y. had already cleared a sterile table off for me to lay her down. The lighting in the room made her look so pale, unlike her normal glowing complexion. Her now strawberry blonde hair lay fanned around her head and the tiny freckles on her cheekbones stood out more than normal. She looked so, peaceful, almost as if she were sleeping instead of dead. I could barely handle looking at her body like this, so I put a line of fluids in an IV in her arm just to keep her body hydrated so she doesn’t become disfigured. Slowing the drip down extensively, I walked out of the room, closing and locking the door behind me.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., turn the lights off and make the glass one way please.” I said weakly.

“Of course sir.” The automated voice spoke back. The lights slowly went off one by one in the lab, only the E light above Samara’s body remained on, but before I could look further into the room, I was met with my reflection from the mirror. After staring back at myself for a few minutes, I turned my head to the ground, tears falling down my face as I walked towards the elevator to take me to my room.

“Mr. Stark would you like me to contact the rest of the team?” F.R.I.D.A.Y. asked gently, not wanting to set me off into a hysteria of emotions. I gulped and nodded my head slightly.

“Yes, but don’t contact Spider-boy yet. I want to tell him in person.”

“Of course Mr. Stark.”

………………………………

Pain. Excruciating pain. That was all I felt. My brain was pounding against my skull, almost as if it were trying to break free. My wrists were burning, oh god, it was all so much pain. I kept trying to move my body around but to no avail. I couldn’t even feel my lungs moving, yet here I was, how was this happening? The burning in my wrist was becoming more and more painful, feeling the pain now run up through my entire arm and into my torso. I remained unmoved, but my mind was racing internally. How did I get here? I was on the bridge with Harry and Peter last I remembered. It couldn’t have been more than 10 minutes ago but now I can’t move. Oh my God, am I paralyzed? Am I in a coma?! OKay okay, calm down Samara, you’re fine, you are absolutely- Oh God. THE PAIN JUST MAKE IT STOP! I was screaming in my mind, the pain becoming so overwhelming that I couldn’t hold it in anymore and let out a bloodcurdling scream. Suddenly a calming voice entered my mind,

“Let go my darling, it’s time for you to go back home.”

Before I could question my mother’s voice, the pain was gone, as was the darkness.

Gasping, I sat up quickly from a hardened surface, a single bright light overwhelming my senses…

…………………………..

“So you did find her body then?” The entire team stood in the kitchen, most with a solemn expression upon their faces. I nodded my head and took a sip of the bourbon in my glass.

“What do you plan on doing with her?” Natasha asked. I shrugged my shoulders, setting my drink back down of the granite surface.

“Have a little funeral for all of us, then bury her. That’s all that I can do at this point.” The word ‘funeral’ felt worse than the burn from the bourbon in my drink.

“So where is the boy?” Vision asked. “I mean I would assume he would’ve been the first to hear the news of his love being found.”

“I wanted to tell him in person. I didn’t think the kid deserved to be told over the phone about this. It wouldn’t be fair tha-”

“Mr. Stark.” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice rang through the speaker system, alarm in her voice, which was unusual since she was a computer program. Confusion filled my mind as I contemplated the news that could make her this worried.

“What is it F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” I asked, taking another sip of the alcohol, as it was the only thing besides Pepper making this whole experience somewhat bearable.

“Mr. Stark, I don’t really know how to put this…”

“Just spit it out!” I yelled, becoming more frustrated with the current situation, multiple scenarios running through my mind.

“Mr. Stark… Samara is alive.”

I felt the glass slip from my hand and the shattering as it hit the hardwood floor, the remaining brown liquid spilling along the surface. I couldn’t control my motions, it was like my body was on auto-pilot and I was just along for the ride. I was running down the stairs as I knew the elevator would be too slow for my liking. My feet kept slamming against the concrete staircase, running faster than I have in years, the rest of the team right on my tail.

When I reached the lab floor, F.R.I.D.A.Y. already had the door open so I wouldn’t have to waste time opening myself. I stopped abruptly when I saw her sitting up on the table through the wall that was once again glass. Her new hair now flowed down her back instead of fanning around her head. Her back was faced to the door so I couldn’t see much of her. I was the only one to walk forward through the lab doors, slowly and unsurely making my way to where she sat. Stopping a couple feet behind her, I cleared my throat. Her head whipped around and looked directly into my eyes. One of her eyes…instead of her trademark cool baby blues that held secrets of the world one is now replaced with one light green eye, and her natural glow had engulfed her skin, she looked radiant, like she had never left.

“Dad.” Her soft voice filled my ears and I rushed forward, bringing my arms around her and squeezing her so tight I could feel my own air supply leaving my body but I don’t care, I had my daughter back. When she hugged me back I felt a slight stabbing in my back. I pulled away and looked back to see what was poking me. Samara now had vines growing out of her wrists.

“Shit, sorry. I really haven’t learned how to control this yet.” She said, grabbing her arm back, making the the thick deep green vines receded back into her skin. Her eyes glow as the process ensued.

“How? This is..what is going on?” Steve said astonished, the rest of the Avengers all shared a look of awe.

“I don’t know how any of this happened, I just remember being dead and…not being dead anymore.”

I smile, at this moment I could care less on how any of this is possible, my daughter is back and I can’t be happier. “Let’s not worry about that now…Let’s celebrate your, uh your arrival? Yes let’s call it that, I say Shawarma for everyone!”

There was chorus of agreement, Samara still hasn’t let go of me. Not that I minded one bit, as everyone was going up stairs and F.R.I.D.A.Y was placing the food order, Samara said something that somehow made me even happier, “Where’s Peter? Can he be invited too?”

I smiled and patted her back then rubbed it. “I’ll get him myself, he’ll be happy to see you,” She smiled bright and ran up to Natasha who had open arms.

Time to see Spider-ling.

………………………………………

~NOW~

Peter Parker’s POV:

My hands are sweating as Mr. Stark and I ride the elevator to the Avengers common room. Mr. Stark had a shit-eating grin on his features. “Calm down Kid, she misses you too; hell maybe this’ll be the push to get you back into crime fighting?…” Mr. Stark said in a insinuating tone.

I’ve been detached to the whole idea of taking on Spider-Man, it honestly scares me. I’m a failure to the people, why should I have the privilege to be the people’s beacon of hope again?

I might be the hero New York deserves, but Samara with always be the hero that they need.

“We’ll talk later, you look constipated.”  

Right when I was about to rebuttal the elevator doors dinged and slid open. My mouth clamped shut and I stood up straight.

I’m about to see Samara again, my Sam.  

I slowly walked out, shyly looking around the room before I spotted her.

She’s stunning (not that it came as much of a surprise), her hair falling into thick, strawberry waves all the way down her back. I ignore the fact that it’s a different color, that’s besides the point…Samara’s back and that’s all that matters.

“Sam?”

At the sound of my voice she halted all movements and swiftly craned her head over to where I stood. Her eyes also different but they still held the same wanderlust that had me falling in love with her all over again.

“Peter!” Samara screamed in pure happiness, and ran over to me, engulfing my body in a hug.

I felt my eyes water as I grasp onto her, her face tucked away into my neck. My hand was resting on the back of her head.

“You’re real? I’m not dreaming right, tell me I’m not dreaming?” I said as we slightly pulled apart, still in each other’s arms. She smiled that smile of hers and brings me into a deep kiss,

Her fingers laced through my grown out hair. I felt like everything was finally making sense and my world didn’t need tape to be fixed anymore, no Sam is enough to restore it to what it was before, maybe even better than before.

“I’m here Pete, I’m real…I missed you Spidey. I like your hair.”

She ran her fingers through my brown, messy locks and I closed my eyes in contentment. I was about to kiss her again when Mr. Stark cleared his voice;

“Okay…you guys have an audience now let’s keep the PDA at a medium and let’s celebrate with Shawarma!”

There was a chorus a cheers and, Samara and I blush like mad, “Come on, let’s eat, I haven’t ate in months!”

I smile as she pulls us to dinner table, finally my Sam is back and I’ll do anything in my power to keep it that way.

Anything.

anonymous asked:

Date fic ideas-OQ spend the day in bed

So this had to get smutty.

She wakes to the smell of bacon, warm and comfortable and, rather suddenly, hungry. She knows it’s late, can tell by the mid-morning sun streaming in through curtains that had been shut when she’d fallen asleep last night which means that he’d killed her alarm before it’d had chance to wake her. He does this sometimes, romances her with the simplest of gestures and, as it always does, it has her smiling like an absolute idiot as she blinks open well rested eyes to find him standing at her side of the bed with that gorgeous dimpled smirk of his.

He’s laden with a tray; a plate stacked high with bacon and pancakes for them to share, a small glass vase holding a white rose from the garden, two glasses of orange juice and steaming, fragrant cups of coffee that have her smile widening as she shifts to sit back against the headboard.

“Good morning,” he greets, circling the bed to his side and clambering up whilst still keeping the tray and its contents balanced. “I made us some breakfast.”

“I can see that,” she grins, laughing softly against his mouth when he leans close enough to drop a kiss upon her lips. “May I ask the occasion?”

He shifts so that he can sit beside her, smoothing the duvet with one hand before depositing the tray between them with the other and replying, “The occasion is, I love you.” And then, because she’s clutching the sheets to her chest in the morning light, he informs, “Plus, Gepetto stopped by around an hour ago and asked if the boys were free for the day. He needs a little help in carving some more puppets ready for the festival next month and they were all too happy to volunteer.”

It’s not an odd occurrence, Gepetto calling and asking for the boys help in his workshop. He’d taken to them instantly one morning in the diner, had spent a good hour answering question after question about his work – he still aches for his Pinocchio and Regina can appreciate the need to fill his space with the gift of youth once again – before inviting them along that afternoon. They’d loved it, had returned home to tell them stories of their work and when the old man had asked for their company again, both Regina and Robin had been quick to agree to it. Now it’s almost a weekly thing.

She smiles at the image of the boys – overexcited and endlessly eager – that Robin’s words conjure before she drops the arm covering her chest and allows the duvet to fall away, chuckling at Robin’s low moan and rolling her eyes as she reaches for a piece of bacon from the plate. She loves the feeling of his eyes on her. She had even in the days when they were nothing more than irritations to one another during the Missing Year. It’d thrilled her to know that he couldn’t keep his gaze from her. It still did.

“That’s awfully unfair, m’lady.”

“Whatever do you mean?” she reaches for her cup of coffee, stopped by his hand and endlessly amused by his hungry smirk as she watches him remove the very tray he’d only just deposited between them on the floor of all places before he moves to the end of their bed. “What are you-“

“How can I be expected,” he throws the duvet from her body, eyes raking her form as he grips her ankles and gives enough of a tug to have her flat on her back and squeaking through a laugh, “to waste my time on such a meal when such a feast sits just before me.”

She laughs breathily, her fingers threading through his hair when he crawls up her body and begins sucking wet kisses along her thighs and stomach. “It’ll go cold.”

He glances up at her through hooded eyes, raises an eyebrow in challenge before he dips his head and licks the length of her sex, pressing a hand to her hip when her back bows and she gasps wantonly. “Would you like me to stop then?”

He’s teasing her, testing her and she knows that if she were to tell him yes, that she would, then he most certainly would but, as it were, they had the entire house and day to themselves. There was plenty time for food later, for now she was rather content to spend as long as she could between these sheets with him and so answered with a firm, “Don’t you fucking dare,” endlessly relieved when those smiling lips wrapped around her clit.

Aimee Mullins – Amputee Athlete

Aimee Mullins (born July 20, 1976 in Allentown, Pennsylvania) is an American athlete, actress, and fashion model who first became famous for her athletic accomplishments. She was born with a medical condition that resulted in the amputation of both of her lower legs. Mullins was born with fibular hemimelia (missing fibula bones) and as a result, had both of her legs amputated below knee when she was one year old. A graduate of Parkland High School in Allentown and Georgetown University in Washington, D.C., she took up sports and acting at an early stage.

As a young softball player, she once held the youth league record for stolen bases in softball. She also raced in downhill skiing while in high school. While attending Georgetown University on a full academic scholarship to the prestigious School of Foreign Service there, she competed against able-bodied athletes in NCAA Division I track and field events, and is the first amputee in history, male or female, to compete in the NCAA. Honoring her achievement and cultural contribution to sport, Mullins is included as one of the “Greatest Women of the 20th Century” in the Women’s Museum in Dallas, Texas.