and his face was RADIANT

2

“Hey Cas,” Dean said distractedly, still peering down at the page in his hands.

Cas had appeared in the middle of the hotel room with the signature soft rustling sound. “Sam. Dean,” he said.

Both the brothers looked up when they could hear the smile in his voice. The radiant expression on his face matched the unmistakeable tone of even words as simple as their names.

Sam raised his eyebrows and smiled back at Cas. “What’s goin’ on?”

Cas only continued to smile at the Winchesters.

Dean exchanged an amused look with Sam. “Come on. Cough it up,” he said, casually leaning against the table and crossing his arms across his chest.

“A gentleman never kisses and tells,” Cas said, still beaming. “Except that is exactly what happened,” he said, his deep voice cloaked in excitement. “Y/N and I kissed.”

Bangtan Centric

“Hey Jiminie, let’s be pirates today!” Taehyung called to Jimin across the dorm. He bounced over to the younger, his hair still ruffled from sleep. A radiant smile shined from his face.

Jimin yawned, his hand still on the bedroom doorknob. he rubbed his eyes with his other hand. He felt Taehyung tug on his sleeve. “Sure,” he grinned. In the kitchen annexe, Seokjin smiled in a motherly way and shook his head.

The other members awoke to the sound of ‘ARR, I”LL GET YOU’s and “OH NO YOU DONT, YA SWASHBUCKLING DECK-SCRUBBER’.

Namjoon stumbled out of his room, his hair and face a mess. He latched one hand onto Taehyung’s foot. “SHUT UP YOU TWO, FOR GODS SAKE I’M TRYING TO SLEEP!”

His roar brought Yoongi and Hoseok out of their room. Yoongi squinted sleepily at the idiot pair, whom Namjoon seemed to be yelling at. “Shut up, Namjoon, it’s too early for this noise,” he said scratchily as he shuffled to the kitchen to nag Seokjin for food.

Hoseok, on the other hand, raced straight for the bathroom. The click of the bathroom lock occurred only four seconds after his bedroom door opened.

Meanwhile, Jimin and Namjoon were tug-o-waring with Taehyung as the rope. He wailed pitifully as Namjoon gripped his left foot and, still yelling about free time and peace and quiet, pulled one way, while Jimin, clutching at Taehyung’s right arm, dragged him the other. Taehyung was left strung out between the two, balancing precariously on one foot and yelling his head off.

Seokjin, used to the chaotic and noisy mornings with Bangtan, fended off Yoongi’s pleas for food and his sticky hands which seemed everywhere, stealing spoonfuls of soup and sneaking bits off the chopping board and into his mouth. “Jin, I told you to make me omelette yesterday– why haven’t you made it yet– Jiiinnn–”

Seokjin batted away Yoongi’s hand, which was reaching for the dish of chicken on the counter. “Yoongi, there aren’t any eggs left- if you want omelette, go buy some eggs from the store.”

Yoongi huffed and turned away, opting to be lazy instead. He shuffled towards the couch.

At that moment, Hoseok decided to barrel out of the bathroom with a yell of ‘REFRESHED’ –straight into Yoongi, then straight into the couch. The two lay there, stunned by the impact, before Yoongi shoved Hoseok off with a grumble of ‘why do I even live here’. Hoseok immediately bounced up and worried over Yoongi like a bee with a flower.

Seokjin decided that it was a safe time to leave to food and wake Jungkook up, seeing as Yoongi had planted his butt into the couch- for the whole day, no doubt. He shook his head at the Tae-o-war and entered Jungkook’s room. With an icy-cold bottle of water.

Jungkook’s yell startled the place to a standstill, with Taehyung poised between Namjoon and Jimin, and Hoseok hovering over Yoongi, who had his hands on his chest, in the act of shoving him away. Jungkook came out of the door, spluttering swearwords and wiping water from his eyes. Seokjin appeared behind him and stopped at the sight of everyone who was not Jungkook.

It all looked like a giant innuendo.

Seokjin shrugged and turned back to the kitchen.

Jungkook made it to the bathroom and started washing his stinging eyes out- with more water.

Yoongi succeeded in pushing Hoseok off and growled at him to keep away. He picked up the TV remote and began his daily routine of pointless channel surfing.

Hoseok, reassured by Yoongi’s indifference and the fact that they fell on the couch, leapt to the Tae-o-war with a yell and started tickling Taehyung’s exposed midriff. Jimin leapt to Hoseok’s aid, giggling and tickling his foot. Taehyung writhed on the ground, the three roaring with laughter. Namjoon turned to face the wall and hit his head on it multiple times.

Seokjin, having laid out the food on the table, went to rouse Yoongi from the couch. Not that there was much hope of that. The daily argument ensued, the topic being whether Yoongi did sport or not (“Channel surfing, it’s called! I am doing exercise!”).

Jungkook came out of the bathroom and was attacked immediately by the idiot pair. Cushions flew at him from all sides. Jungkook gave a shriek. He grabbed a pillow and started hitting Taehyung with it. Taehyung giggled and fell on the couch next to Yoongi, shielding himself with his arms. Jimin floofed at Jungkook’s back with a cushion. He gave a theatrical sigh. “Aish, Jungkookie~ why do you do this to me… I’m supposed to be defending Taetae, but aish you’re too cute-”

Namjoon gave up on beating up the wall with his head. He went and slumped at the table, already tired in the first few minutes of his waking day. Seokjin passed Namjoon slowly. He was dragging Yoongi along on the ground, attempting to get him to sit at the table. “Yoongi, get up! Sit on the chair- ay, you’re like a three year old-”

Jungkook, tired out from the one-sided pillow fight, dropped his pillow and sat at the table. He grabbed his bowl and chopsticks and became a windmill of arms, snatching up food and scarfing it down. Namjoon, Seokjin and Yoongi, (whom had roused himself enough to sit in a chair) with chopsticks suspended in the air between their bowls and mouths, stared at Jungkook, who was working his way through his second bowl with a fanatical speed.

Jimin and Taehyung both wandered to the table in the middle of breakfast. Everyone had settled down enough to talk in moderate levels. Somehow the conversation turned to gross topics, with Jimin and Taehyung competing on who could make Jungkook lose his appetite the most. Nothing was working on the hungry maknae (although it seemed to be extremely effective on everyone else).

Kim Namjoon, the rap monster and forever pissed off leader of Bangtan.

Kim Seokjin, the Pink Princess and Mario fan, king of cooking.

Min Yoongi, the couch potato and beat master of the studio.

Jung Hoseok, with the thousand-watt smile and crazyslick moves.

Jeon Jungkook, the golden maknae and the sleeping beauty.

Park Jimin, the charm and the bagel boy and one half of the idiot pair.

Kim Taehyung, the weird, cute alien and the other half of the idiot pair.

This is…

Bangtan Senyeondumb.


Author’s Note:

(ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧ (doublE UPDATE YASS WHOO AMAZING COMPLIMENT ME)

୧(﹒︠ᴗ﹒︡)୨ <…?)

……………

(´・_・`)<…??)

what even? happened to this? it was? supposed to be? vmin??

*awkward? out???*

superlizzziie asked:

Alivia rushed into the garden where Erick was playing with Alryn. The dog walked towards her as she walked towards Erick and jumped in his arms. She had a radiant smiles on her face as she hugged him close. ''I'm pregnant.'' She looked him in the eyes before pressing a kiss against his lips. ''We're pregnant.''

Erick stood still for a long moment, his eyes studied hers. The sun reflected it’s light from her eyes, this whole moment and subsequent moments felt bright, lively, lovely. Under it all a bit of fear, thoughts of his previous marriage and the death of his child. He smiles, though in his eyes they were scared, his arms circled around his small wife and he held her close to him as he says in a husky voice. “We are having a child…” he despite the fear there also was a spark of happiness, the love of his life gave him something he wished he could have, though he wasn’t sure he was ready for it he knew he had to prove he was better then his father. “I love you.” he murmurs before kissing her and swaying with her in their nice little sunny garden.  

You devote your life to another, you’ve occupied your time with Him. I gaze upon you only to discover the presense of the One you admire.
You speak many words of truth and wisdom, You quote verses which beautify the Lord’s existence.
They ask me how you can love the one who loves another?
Though the other is not just another, I cannot help but shudder when my beloved mentions His name.
When you utter His Name, your face becomes ever radiant and beautiful.
How is it Ya Rabb that when one mentions you, I begin to love him ever more when he praises you?
You remind me of My Beloved, O’ beloved.
Your heart soft with His praise and your tongue moist with His remembrance, take me off your mind for I wish for you to have only thoughts of Him.

Ya'Allah you have granted me the one who loves You more than the soul can bare.
He loves You more than I and He gains my admiration by striving in Your name.

Oh Allah I am awe-struck and I have become insane,
His love for You only beautifies Him further,
I am in love with he who loves another.

Marry someone who will not just console you with sweet, affectionate words when you are feeling upset. Rather someone who when you are feeling down he would recite upon to you the Qalam Of Allah and narrate such stories of that of Ayyub عليه السلام and the sufferings he had gone through. He would narrate the difficulties of Yunus عليه السلام and those who had come before and after. For when your loved one recites the words of Your Beloved this will be the ultimate comforter.
Surely in the recognition of Your Lord do hearts fall in love,
surely in the remembrance of Allāh do hearts find rest.

Story under 50

She looked at his face, radiant with sunshine, touched it with gentle fingers to check if it’s real. Gathering all her strength, she joined their lips, tears came flowing. It was the day she became widow.

Buddha with a Cell Phone

by David Romtvedt

The dark sky opens and it starts to rain. I go outside
to stand in the stream, the longed-for gift of water
where it hasn’t rained for so long. I shout and dance
with the dog, who puts his ears back and licks my nose.
When we come back in, he shakes and I do too,
a few drops flying off my hair. I notice the Buddha
sitting on my desk. He’s a rubber Buddha
in a yellow robe. If you squeeze him he squeaks.
He’s got a radiant smile on his face, his eyebrows
happy half-moons over his eyes. As I stare at him
my wife walks by and with a cheery Buddha-like glint says,
“It’s raining.” In his right hand the Buddha’s got a cappuccino
and in his left a cell phone pressed to his ear.
His lips are closed so I know he’s listening, not talking.
One more thing. ­I pick up a little kaleidoscope
lying next to the Buddha and lift it to my eye to look outside.
I thought it would make the raindrops glitter
through the autumn-dry corn but instead what I see
looks like the ceiling of a great cathedral.
I whirl around and am presented with the image
of a thousand rubber Buddhas, each one
a drop of rain, falling, ready to hit the ground.

“…”

Here he was.

A blond mess of hair peeks his head around the virtual door and then pushes it open with a small smile of wonder on his face, one that lifts up to a giant grin as he peered around.  

“ Hellooooooooooo, World!”

Nobody would hear him, but his words ring out cheerfully, anyway. This stage is his.

It’s coincidence-not-coincidence that his first words have an uncanny resemblance to a fundamental coding exercise that all programmers do– Not that the word “Programming” rings any bells in his mind. First step, first words. New interactions. He’s learning the basics, too, with that radiant grin hung up on his face. Care to join me? it seems to be asking. That is, if you could get past all the pompous flourishes this guy seemed to roll out in waves.

(No, he totally didn’t practice his introduction a zillion times before he actually stepped in.)

Home was somewhere else, under starlit skies and Mr. Nyanta’s curry in the mouth, or with Miss Isuzu’s singing swelling happiness in the air, but you know, maybe this slate blue expanse of a universe would suffice as a second one.

Nice to meet you, Tumblr. 

Rudy Code is here.

This dispair, this extreme nausea which he had experienced had not overpowered him. The bird, that clear spring and voice within him was still alive–that was why he rejoiced, that was why he still laughed, that was why his face was radiant under his [brown] hair.