ask me how high am i

  • Magnus, snickering: You two are like two peas in a pod
  • Raphael: Bane-
  • Alec, drunk: What? What are two peas in a pod like?
  • Magnus: Very similar, they get along well
  • Alec: How do you know they get along well? Did you ask them?
  • Magnus: Well, no, but-
  • Alec: You shouldn't assume things, Magnus. It's not good. You told me that.
  • Magnus: It's just a saying, I-
  • Alec, getting up: I'm going to go find a pair of peas and ask them right now *walking off*
  • Raphael: I am NOT like him at ALL
  • Magnus: that's...debatable

anonymous asked:

I fell like I was a little deku ish in high school. Shy, less than confidant, less than ready to admit to being queer 😬. If only there had been an icy hot prince like todo chan for me then lol

awhh, sweet nonnie! i totally get ya. you’re perfect just how you are, and i am so lucky to talk to someone as adorable as yourself!!!! someday your prince will come, and when he does i hope he’s as handsome and gentle and pure as prince shouto himself 

Originally posted by babsignal

Hoe Tips: School and Studying

I’m currently in PA school with close to a 4.0 GPA, and with college and back to school starting up, I’m dropping some tips for y'all. A hoe gotta get bomb ass grades if ya want a bomb ass career and to be successful af. So let’s get it✨

1. Write out your notes. Have two notebooks: one for when you’re in class (this one can be messy) and one for at home (this one is the neater one, for color coding, formatting, and all that organizational jazz). Writing things out is proven to enhance memorization 7X more than just reading is.

2. Have a go-to format for your notes. Numbering, bullet points, whatever floats your boat.

3. Type out your notes. I use Google Drive, because it automatically saves all your shit, and you can access your notes via your Google account literally anywhere. Typing out your notes does the same thing writing them out does, as far as helping you review the material.

4. Use Quizlet. Quizlet is a free flashcard website/app that allows you to type in all of your flashcards and definitions, and gives you review options like matching, testing, flashcard mode, and more. This shit made me my high schools valedictorian, no lie.

5. Keep your old quizzes and tests. Often times, teachers will ask similar questions on finals.

6. For math-based subjects, always always always show your work in your notes. I try to explain each step for a math problem in the margins of my notes, and generalize how to do each problem at the end.

7. Do practice problems consistently.

8. For my college hoes: never take an 8 am class. You think you can do it because you did it for high school, but I promise you will regret it. If there’s no avoiding the 8 am lecture, bring coffee and skip any makeup/hair that day. Sleep is too important.

9. Make flashcards. The night before my exams, I like to try and fit everything I need to know for a specific chapter/topic onto one flashcard, in order to weed out main ideas.

10. For essays, easybib.com is amazing with free citations to avoid any plaigiarism or incorrect bibliographies.

11. Rent👏your👏textbooks👏. Unless your teacher specifically requires you BUY it, you likely won’t need the actual textbook. Buying access codes for the book online is hundreds of dollars cheaper.

12. If you do get your textbooks, a lot of them have chapter summaries at the end of each chapter. Be sure to write out/type out/review those summaries.

13. For science labs, if you are allowed, take pictures of any models or slides you need to know for your exams. Pretty much all labs won’t let you take pictures of cadavers or animal dissections, but plastic models and microscope slides should be fine.

14. If you have a question, ASK YOUR TEACHER. It is better to look stupid in class and get your clarification, than to look stupid when you get your exam back and actually have it count against your grade.

15. Do study groups. I have two nursing friends in some of the same classes as me, and we’d always meet up before exams to go over the material. We would bring dry erase markers and map out shit in empty classrooms, taking turns explaining shit to each other until we nailed it.

16. Try to teach the material. Like I said in #15, study groups are great for this. By teaching the material out loud, you are subconsciously reviewing it yourself. This is a HUGE help.

17. Take breaks. You cannot exhaust yourself and expect to still recall anything you learned.

18. I know everyone does this and there’s no avoiding it sometimes, but DO NOT CRAM. Gradual learning is most effective.

19. Have one day every week where you don’t do any schoolwork. You need time to reboot.

20. Use your phone’s calendar/task checklist app for all major assignments, due dates, exam dates, study plans, appointments, etc. Set reminders as needed.

21. Charge your phone in another room while studying. No distractions.

22. Rainymood.com is a free website that plays a 30 minute loop of rain sounds. It helps me focus like nothing else, especially in my loud ass household, and every time the loop stops and replays, I know to take a break between 30 minute study sessions.

23. Feel distracted at home when studying? Try studying in a library, cafe, or even at school. I find that going somewhere else to study actually forces me to pay attention to what I’m doing, for some reason.

24. Reward yourself for good grades. Buy yourself a slice of pizza or a new highlight, have a netflix marathon, go to a party, or take a nap. Whatever conveys a job well done, do it. It’ll make all that studying feel that much greater when it’s over, and you’ll have a goal to work towards.

25. Sit in the front of the classroom as often as possible. You’ll be forced to pay attention, be able to actually see the board, hear the instructor better, and you’re more likely to have your questions answered quickly because your teacher will actually see your hand go up.

26. Caffeinate. I prefer tea because it’s healthier, but coffee works too. Ya girl is NOT a morning person, but my morning tea at least helps me pay attention during earlier classes.

27. Keep all of your school shit organized, together, and labelled.

28. Do NOT skip a class just because you’re lazy or don’t feel like going. The temptation is real sometimes, but a hoes gonna be pissed when ya see your participation average decline.

29. This may just be a psychological thing, but I love to use the same colored/brand of pen for all of my notes/assignments/tests. It just makes everything seem more uniform, and I’m able to recall information better.

30. Trouble taking tests? For any multiple choice question, read the question and try to answer it first without reading any of the options. If your answer doesn’t match the options, then use process of elimination to find the best answer. For true/false questions, write out justifications for each answer (you can also do this for multiple choice). You’ll be acing your exams in no time.

31. Chewing gum during class/studying, and chewing that same flavor gum during the exam, has been scientifically proven to boost your memory recall.

32. Literally any time you have the opportunity to do extra credit, DO IT. Cherish that shit.

33. If you aren’t doing so hot in a particular class (literally any math class for me lol), schedule a private meeting with your professor and go over test questions you missed, or topics you didn’t get. If you know your professor is a flop, or can’t get an appointment, meet with a tutor or another professor of that same subject. Sometimes another voice can shed new light on a difficult topic.

34. For essays, readable.io critiques your writing for free based on readability, grade level, formality, tone, grammatical errors, etc. Seriously a life saver.

35. Also thesaurus.com is ya bff for fancier words/phrases to make your writing more eloquent

36. Always make an outline for every essay or project to organize what you want to say. This will keep you on track, and help you work around any quotes or sources in you writing to make sure your writing is hella organized.

That’s all I can think of for now, please please please feel free to add and share. Enjoy those 4.0’s, hoes💞

i am holding hands with a girl at the pet store. i love how her voice changes when she speaks to different animals. round and bubbly for the angelfish, high and breathy for the calico kittens, sonorous and slithery for the python. she loves them all, even the great hairy tarantula that makes me cringe. 

i am holding hands with this girl whose halo of hair glows banana yellow under the heat lamps in the reptile section, who offers her index finger to teething kittens. she asks “can’t we have one?” in the voice she uses for only me. a voice i can’t describe without using her name, but i imagine joan of arc heard something similar the day she picked up a sword. she is still holding my hand, and i feel like i’d sink into cartoon quicksand if i let go. so i don’t.

“are you two… together?”

this is not unfamiliar, but the woman’s voice, the voice she has chosen, is angrily acidic. this woman has laced her tone with arsenic, without even a passive aggressive teaspoon of sugar to hide her poison. she inhales, puffing herself up like a frightened lizard before her final words. 

“there are children here, you know.” 

in the future, i think of a thousand things to say. we were children too. two girls holding hands after school. two girls holding hands at the movie theatre, two girls in a booth at tony’s pizza, two girls sharing awkward first kisses after two solo cups of wine in someone else’s backyard. two girls holding kittens at a pet store on a saturday afternoon. 

i know now that they see us through funhouse mirrors: distorted, disturbed, our monstrous bodies taking too much space, spoiling innocent spaces with our imposing sexualities. our innocence never ours to begin with.

even with this, there is nowhere i would rather be than holding hands with her in a pet store, with her voice like rain on a hot day, her peach lips blowing kisses for fish, her grip tightening as if to say “i dare you to take this away from me.”

like the lack of perception ppl who are against safe spaces  and trigger warnings and shit like that is so obvious. like to them, the function of those things are so opinions aren’t challenged and people can stay within their own little bubbles

when really its like “hey i really would rather not be reminded of this trauma i faced on a daily basis and end up having a panic attack in my school bathroom because my teacher decided to have a whole in depth conversation about sexual assault without warning anyone, and the opinions of my classmates made me feel extremely alienated and my anxiety was so high that i was afraid to get up and walk out of the classroom because i was ashamed that i am not able to keep it together” LIKE

its not about “i dont want people to challenge my opinions” its “i want to address my trauma in a healthy way with my therapist and not have to listen to my classmate kevin’s opinions about how girls are asking for it when they wear skimpy clothes”

Mom, my depression is a shape shifter.
One day it is as small as a firefly in the palm of a bear,
The next, it’s the bear.
On those days I play dead until the bear leaves me alone.
I call the bad days: “the Dark Days.”
Mom says, “Try lighting candles.”
When I see a candle, I see the flesh of a church, the flicker of a flame,
Sparks of a memory younger than noon.
I am standing beside her open casket.
It is the moment I learn every person I ever come to know will someday die.
Besides Mom, I’m not afraid of the dark.
Perhaps, that’s part of the problem.
Mom says, “I thought the problem was that you can’t get out of bed.”
I can’t.
Anxiety holds me a hostage inside of my house, inside of my head.
Mom says, “Where did anxiety come from?”
Anxiety is the cousin visiting from out-of-town depression felt obligated to bring to the party.
Mom, I am the party.
Only I am a party I don’t want to be at.
Mom says, “Why don’t you try going to actual parties, see your friends?”
Sure, I make plans. I make plans but I don’t want to go.
I make plans because I know I should want to go. I know sometimes I would have wanted to go.
It’s just not that fun having fun when you don’t want to have fun, Mom.
You see, Mom, each night insomnia sweeps me up in his arms dips me in the kitchen in the small glow of the stove-light.
Insomnia has this romantic way of making the moon feel like perfect company.
Mom says, “Try counting sheep.”
But my mind can only count reasons to stay awake;
So I go for walks; but my stuttering kneecaps clank like silver spoons held in strong arms with loose wrists.
They ring in my ears like clumsy church bells reminding me I am sleepwalking on an ocean of happiness I cannot baptize myself in.
Mom says, “Happy is a decision.”
But my happy is as hollow as a pin pricked egg.
My happy is a high fever that will break.
Mom says I am so good at making something out of nothing and then flat-out asks me if I am afraid of dying.
No.
I am afraid of living.
Mom, I am lonely.
I think I learned that when Dad left how to turn the anger into lonely —
The lonely into busy;
So when I tell you, “I’ve been super busy lately,” I mean I’ve been falling asleep watching Sports Center on the couch
To avoid confronting the empty side of my bed.
But my depression always drags me back to my bed
Until my bones are the forgotten fossils of a skeleton sunken city,
My mouth a bone yard of teeth broken from biting down on themselves.
The hollow auditorium of my chest swoons with echoes of a heartbeat,
But I am a careless tourist here.
I will never truly know everywhere I have been.
Mom still doesn’t understand.
Mom! Can’t you see that neither can I?
—  “Explaining My Depression to My Mother: A Conversation” by Sabrina Benaim
Day Ninety-Four

-A child told me that he loved his lanky polar bear. He then asked for his leggy man boy to not be put in a bag. He gushed to his father about how excited he was for his limping pollo loco. I am grateful to have been the one to bestow upon him his Lego Batman toy.

-A man came through with a camouflage bandana, a long-sleeved camouflage shirt, camouflage shorts, and pasty white calves. He is guaranteed to go unnoticed as long as he stays in knee-high coverage.

-I began my shift not in the happiest of moods. This all changed when a two year-old looked me in the eye and told me, “Myungh.” Children always know just what to say.

-Two three year-old twins took turns tooting on a toy trumpet together, absolutely tickled by how perfectly they could produce their one note.

-I watched on in fascination as a man in his fifties knocked over a sign at Starbucks and spent ten minutes attempting to place it upright again. He soon found his efforts to be in vain and instead attoted to slink away in what was ultimately the most noninconspicuous manner possible.

-A woman left in the middle of paying for her purchase to wait through the line at Starbucks and get a drink. I am beginning to understand how some may doubt my stories. I, too, cannot find any way to believe that this actually happened.

-A child ran towards me, shouting, “Daddy Two!” My plan is working flawlessly and my infiltration of his family has begun.

-A triad of men came through my line, looking like a hipster version of the Three Stooges, and living up to the reputation.

-A line of intimidating frat boys spent the duration of their time in my lane debating the best brands of “choccy milk” and their go-to shaking strategies.

POPULAR TEXT POSTS + ASK MEME  (  PART 3  )

❛ i need a reasonable paying job, something like $2,000 an hour. nothing too wild. ❜
❛ idc (i do care) ❜
❛ ‘are you taken?’ yes bitch, taken for granted ❜
❛ half of me is a hopeless romantic and the other half is, well, an asshole ❜
❛ you’re yelling? at ME? the one person who has never done anything wrong ever?????? ❜
❛ you will find your home, you will find your place. you will find your people. give it a little bit of time but it will happen. ❜
❛ in order lead a happy life i’m gonna have to disappoint my parents a bit. ❜
❛ any body else here not good at anything??? ❜
❛ you can’t force people to appreciate you. ❜
❛ *puts on baseball cap* i am the dad now… ❜
❛ i fake smart.. like i’m honestly a dumbass idk shit but i know how to seem like i do.. i’m smart-passing.. ❜
❛ every straight woman who ever called her platonic friend her ‘girlfriend’ owes me $50 ❜
❛ i am a professional at misreading tones and overreacting to problems that most likely don’t exist ❜
❛ honestly if i survive the next 3 years of my life, i will be impressed with myself ❜
❛ you can’t cure sadnesses with a shower but honestly there is no purer place to suffer ❜
❛ patiently waiting for a kind soul to come along and make everything a little softer, brighter. ❜
❛ honestly i don’t even play an active role in my life, shit just happens and i’m like oh this is what we’re doing now? ok ❜
❛ no offense but if i die and no one uses a ouija board to keep me updated on memes i will literally haunt you all ❜
❛ imma start charging people for hurting my feelings $3 an hour ❜
❛ i have finally reached the age of most young adult protagonists yet my life is still uneventful??? where is my cool story??? my cool talents??? @ universe i’m pissed ❜
❛ hello, police? i accidentally stepped on my cats foot and need to be arrested ❜
❛ *tries to watch 45 minute episode in 20 minutes ❜
❛ please don’t just come in my life, take my heart and leave. please don’t do that. ❜
❛ concept: me, 10 years from now, living in a pretty house with my love, sipping a hot cappuccino on a rainy autumn afternoon. our dog curls up next to me in the window bench while our cat snoozes on the bed. i’m financially stable and i’m never tired anymore. the bees are safe. ❜
❛ i can’t believe what walkie talkies are called ❜
❛ the gorilla could have died and been done with in like a week but none of you know how to be normal ❜
❛ me: *is bitter but is also right* ❜
❛ just saw a girl in high heels long boarding to class. godspeed, my queen. ❜
❛ i’ve never belonged anywhere, i’m always just in between ❜
❛ too young for unnecessary stress, i gotta live ❜
❛ i may not be beautiful but at least i know a lot of useless information ❜
❛ i’m like always sleepy. i feel like i should be used to this by now and stop complaining about being sleepy but i can’t. always, i’m sleepy. ❜
❛ lmao no offense… but what’s the point of being mean to people for no reason ❜
❛ drunk me is the me i really want to be. confident, hilarious, and most importantly, drunk ❜
❛ “alcohol isn’t supposed to taste good” buddy watch me drink the fruitiest/sweetest shit i can find and enjoy it because i don’t hate myself enough to even begin to consider drinking like.. beer ❜
❛ tfw you’re already fully aware of the unnecessary self destructive bullshit you’re doing but you can’t bring yourself to do anything to stop it ❜
❛ hey sorry for not replying i didn’t want to ❜
❛ honestly how am i gonna make it in the world???? i get a little teary eyed any time someone compliments my personality ❜
❛ true bonding is when you and your friends are all angry about the same thing ❜
❛ *touches your hand and looks seriously into your eyes* i am a piece of shit ❜
❛ lets play ‘how rude can i be until you realize i don’t like you’ ❜
❛ i love drunk me but i don’t trust her ❜
❛ hate when i am wearing makeup and still look shitty like what else am i supposed to do? get enough sleep? eat right and exercise??? as if ❜
❛ i’m not on a high horse. i’m not even on a horse. i’m face down in a ditch on the road of life ❜
❛ i hate when people ask me what i would do in their situation because 9 times out of 10 i would literally never be in that situation in the first place ❜
❛ i barely remember the last 6 months honestly like am i even alive ❜
❛ you had me at ‘hello’ and lost me at ‘i think your friend is cute’ ❜
❛ i’m pretty sure by now ‘tired’ is just a part of my personality description ❜
❛ wow i really liked that song now i think i’ll listen to it another seventy times in a row ❜
❛ ‘shit it’s 2 a.m.’ i say every day at 2 a.m. as if i’m surprised ❜
❛ i’ve been stressed out since like the third day of second grade ❜
❛ telling other girls they look pretty is like cracking a glow stick full of positivity and female friendship ❜
❛ i want to be sun kissed and also people kissed ❜
❛ about me: glowing, eating peaches, drinking wine in lingerie, not texting your desperate ass back  ❜
❛ i highly recommend never having feelings ❜
❛ due to unfortunate circumstances, i am awake ❜
❛ i’m gonna solve mysteries so fucking good ❜
❛ what did people even wear in 2008 ❜
❛ i’ll just ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  my way through life ❜
❛ you know what sucks? everything bye ❜
❛ me? overreacting? probably ❜
❛ people asking me what kind of music i like is such a stressful experience ❜
❛ honestly if i survive the next 3 years of my life i will be impressed with myself ❜
❛ if you listen carefully you can hear me whisper ‘shut the fuck up’ at least once every five minutes ❜
❛ any time you like a boy just know you played yourself. always keep that stored in your mind for later ❜
❛ hopeless romantic with trust issues and a sex drive out the roof ❜
❛ what i lack in personality i make up for in…….. nothing ❜
❛ me? cancelled ❜
❛ an app that tells you how raven something is ❜
❛ be with someone who will take care of you. not materialistically but takes care of your soul, your well being, your heart, and everything that’s you ❜
❛ i love the infinite multiverse theory because that means there’s a universe where i’ve pulled every single fire alarm i’ve ever seen ❜
❛ name a more iconic duo than the lengths i’ll go to both get attention and to avoid it… i’ll wait ❜
❛ i just want to be treated very gently and smell like vanilla and wear only matte dusty rose lipstick ❜
❛ 2017 is going to be a very healing year because it’s going to force us to accept that 2007 was ten years ago not three and i think that’s the root of our collective issues ❜
❛ i just wanna do cute things with you like crush the patriarchy, fight for gender equality, and help to destroy racism ❜
❛ i may not be that funny or athletic or good looking or smart or talented… i forgot where i was going with this ❜
❛ how is 2016 already almost over?? like this bitch came in, fucked us up, then left like she gave us a gift ❜
❛ supercalifragilisticextentialcrisis ❜
❛ stop breaking your own motherfucking heart ❜
❛ co-napping is a beautiful thing. knock out with me so i know it’s real ❜
❛ *on the verge of tears* ok not that i care, but ❜
❛ it’s not you…. it’s your zodiac sign ❜
❛ i want to be loved so bad it’s pathetic and embarrassing ❜
❛ my heart is filled with hate and swag ❜
❛ ‘i don’t care’ i say, caringly, as i care deeply ❜
❛ i highly recommend never having feelings ❜
❛ we all ugly to somebody, don’t trip ❜
❛ do i have a crush or am i just idolizing this person for being vaguely nice to me? ❜
❛ my parents were arguing today and my mom said that justin timberlake wouldn’t treat her like this ❜
❛ kissing is hella rad but no one is kissing me so that makes me hella sad ❜
❛ everyone’s having their mid-life crisis at like 19 ❜
❛ there are just people out there that are the embodiment of the sun like the things they say do light up the world and make you feel warm they are human sunshine ❜
❛ dermatologists HATE me… everyone hates me. i’m so alone ❜
❛ you know when you realize and you just… realize ❜
❛ a girl can respect herself and still take booty pics wtf y’all talkin about ❜
❛ i’m not badass i’m sadass i cry about everything ❜
❛ inspired by animal crossing, i’ve started doing this thing where i mail my best friends a framed picture of myself and then never speak to them again ❜
❛ i didn’t know double texting was such a big deal?? i have a lot to say ❜
❛ can someone please just be proud of me like fuck i’m trying ❜
❛ cosmo sex tip #367: when you’re in the mood, tell you partner ‘my spidey senses are tingling’ ❜

(  you can find the other popular text posts memes on my old blog: 1, 2 )

anonymous asked:

Could you tell your uneducated followers, such as myself, some more about Ramadan? You're allowed to eat between sunset and sunrise, just not during the day? Are there rules about working during Ramadan if you have a job? Obviously some people can't take time off, but is it preferable to stay home with family? Do some countries, that you know of, recognize it as a holiday and give time off to Muslim citizens? Do you really fast everyday for the whole month!?

Sure. :)

From sunrise and sunset we can’t eat, drink, smoke or have sex. Obviously, if you live in a country with extremely long hours of sunlight it is a little different. 

You are allowed to go about your day as normal as possible. It is advisable to spend time with family and you should be focusing on strengthening your faith. 

Fasting is for those who are abled. 

If you are sick such as having the flu, have a health condition such a diabetes, old age, mental illness, being forced to do it against your will -‘compulsion’, experiencing intense hunger and/or thirst, you are travelling or you would face prosecution or experience fear due to fasting you may be exempt. People don’t fast while they are on their period (well, for good reason since that be incredibly uncomfortable), pregnant/breastfeeding (up to their discretion) and children are not required to fast (Some children do want try it out. I remember as a child I would get in the habit of fasting until midday as practice. Obviously it was not forced on me and I wanted to do it. Of course, parents need to be very watchful of their kids.)  

You can either make up the fasting days or if you have a long-term condition donate to charity. 

It is a festive time. We like to go out for special dinners, prepare special food and do more community activities. But most importantly the month is centred around helping the less fortunate. This is the time of year where we pay our yearly zakkat to the poor. A required amount of donations from your total earnings to someone in need. 

Fasting is suppose to teach patience, steadfastness and remind you of those who go hungry and thirsty. It is about controlling your desires. We do it the whole month- 29 or 30 days depending on the moon. 

Fasting shouldn’t be a distressing experience. For most people, fasting is relatively easy or just mildly uncomfortable. Most people report to feeling better during ramadan as it is good for the digestive system and lots of people actually gain weight surprisingly enough because they tend to have feasts at dinner. We eat two meals know as Suhoor in the morning and Iftaar at night. Water and dates are ‘sunnah’- Optional but a good habit- to have at both times as that is what the Prophet Muhammad (SA) use to do. 

Islam teaches that you must have a good breakfast before sunrise and that you break your fast as soon as it is sunset- it is forbidden to delay breaking your fast. It is not required to starve yourself at all. Healthy, abled people fast without any difficulties. It shouldn’t be at the cost of your health.

You are to prioritise your health and well-being. 

I live in Australia and nothing changes for me. I am not bothered by it because for me my life goes on as normal as fasting is not a difficulty. I went to a religious school for Primary School and High School so we had shorter days during ramadan. 

I am not aware of how it is practiced in Muslim countries. 

Thanks for your ask. Have a great day anon! 

  • My kid: I want to drop out of high school
  • Me: Let me tell u a story about this band
  • My kid: Uh okay..dont know how this is relevant.
  • Me: One guy in this band thought flip flops were thongs
  • My kid: How is this relevant to my question
  • Me: Let me finish, that same guy thought the possibilities were endless and the drummer thought tadpoles were baby turtles
  • My kid: Mom answer my question.
  • Me: They dropped out of High school. Dont become luke and ashton.
  • My kid: ill ask dad.
  • Me: He was in the band. He was the bassist he said some dumb shit to
Scream

Originally posted by nerdyfandomimagines

Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Request: Could I request a bucky smut where bucky and reader have had an argument and are ignoring each other but the next day they are full on screaming at each other and buckys like fuck it and throws reader against the wall and leads to angry make up smut and later the rest of the team are just like “guess they made up then”

Word Count: 1380

Warning: Smut and profanity.


Y/n was breathing heavily as she walked towards her room, she could hear Bucky’s heavy footsteps quickly following behind her. Coming to an abrupt stop, she turned around quickly causing her hair to swing around her face.

“What the hell do you want Bucky?” She seethed out.

Glaring at her, “You need to start training more often.”

Y/n scoffed, “I don’t need training, how many times do I have to tell you?!” Her voice began to rise in volume.

“After what just happened out there?!” Bucky shook his head as he stepped closer to her, she didn’t back down as he did so, only putting her hands on her hips, “You might want to rethink your technique because last time I checked, you shouldn’t need someone to cover your ass every moment of a mission.”

Keep reading

Stress Reliever Part One-Ashton Irwin Smut

Could you do an Ashton smut where you baby sit his kids because he’s so stressed? Business man and wife left him. So of course he needs a stress reliever. And that’s (y/n). She’s a bad bitch😉👏🏻

Hey I’m so sorry this has taken me months to write. I’ve been super busy with school and I’ve honestly also been procrastinating. I hope this is what you were looking for and thanks so much for being my first request.

And please remember that I am open for requests if you have any, just don’t expect them to come out right away.

MASTERLIST

Part Two 


You couldn’t resist the adorable five year old child in front of you. The way her small lips would turn into a pout and her head would tilt slightly to the left made it practically impossible to say no to another serving of ice cream. You were weak, and she knew it too.

She clapped her hands and beamed up at you. Despite the pit in your stomach telling you not to give the adorable devil another serving, you reluctantly handed her another bowl, slightly smaller than the last, filled with chocolate ice cream.

As she scarfed down her second dessert, you checked your phone to see if her father, Ashton had texted you. You had immediately volunteered to babysit his daughter after his job started picking up it’s pace.

He was childhood friends with your older brother so when he complained to your brother about needing a part-time nanny, you actually raised your hand like a school girl. Not only did you love spending time with Ellie, you also needed money for food, being a junior in college.

Although Ashton had a beautiful child and a decent job, you always felt bad for him because he had to grow up faster than anyone you knew. Getting a girl pregnant at age eighteen takes a toll on people. Especially when the girl you impregnate leaves you with a two week year-old baby because she “couldn’t handle being responsible for another human being.”

“I’m tired,” Ellie whined, reaching her hands up to rub her eyes. You quickly snapped out of your daze and picked her up.

“Bed time story?” you asked the sleepy toddler. She nodded quickly which made you smile at her eagerness.

Just as her eyes closed you let out a sigh and had just started cleaning up the mess she had made the past few hours when you heard the front door close from within the apartment.

You walked out into the living room to see Ashton looking down at the bills strewn across the kitchen table. “Hey Ash, I just put her to bed.”

A light smile grazed his lips. “Thanks, (Y/n).”

With the small smile on his face you recalled just how attractive he was. His sandy brown hair was long, but still a reasonable length and his light green eyes were always warm. You hadn’t told anyone this, except for your best friend back in high school, but you had always found him attractive.

“Do you want to stay and watch a bit of TV for a little but because I technically said I wouldn’t be home for another thirty minutes. O-or if you have to go that’s fine too,” his face grew slightly red.

You laughed, “Yeah sure. How was work?” you asked, moving to sit crisscross on his couch. 

He sat down close to you and sighed, “Actually insane. I feel like I’m in high school all over again. Whatever papers that they give me to complete, they just seem to go unused. It’s like the busy work Mr. Greene would give us. Did you have Mr. Greene?”

You nodded as he grabbed the remote for the television. “Of course. I don’t remember anything from his class because his voice would just put me to sleep,” you both laughed.

“Exactly. That’s like every meeting that I am forced to go to. My boss is practically Mr. Greene and I can never focus because his voice makes me want to fall asleep.”

Deciding to be bold, you placed your hand on his knee and rubbed it soothingly, “Why don’t you just quit? You’re obviously not enjoying it.”

He didn’t seem fazed so you moved your hand up a little further, “Because I need the money. It’s the best job that offers no college experience required.”

Your hand was now slowly caressing his mid-thigh over the pants to his suit. “W-what are you doing?” he asked suddenly, looking down at your hand.

You shrugged and brought your hand up a little higher, “You just seem so stressed and I thought I could maybe help you a little.”

His breath got caught in his throat, “Y-yeah?”

Slowly nodding, you brought you hand on his quickly growing bulge. “Yeah.”

With just the slightest of touches, he quickly inhaled and closed his eyes.

Because he wasn’t denying you, you applied pressure to the tent in his pants which made him groan. 

Slowly, you reached for his zipper and tugged it down achingly slow. “Is this okay?” you asked.

“Yes, fuck, yeah,” he whimpered when you palmed him over his boxers.

A small smile stretched across your face as you crawled off of the couch and lowered yourself between his legs.

He visibly gulped, “W-what about your brother?”

While you pulled down his boxers you kept eye contact with him and shrugged, “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

When his almost fully-erect member was released from its confines, he let out a long breath of air. Without hesitation, you gripped him and slowly tugged upward until he was a moaning mess. “I should come home stressed more often,” he laughed, shakily.

You bit your lip and looked back up at him to see he was staring down at you with hooded eyes. Boldly, you licked a long stripe up the underside of his cock which caused his eyes to roll back. “Oh shit. Baby, your tongue feels so good,” he whimpered.

Just the sight of him, hair matted, crisp, white shirt with only a few buttons still buttoned, made you wet.

You latched your lips around his tip and wasted no time before sinking your head all the way down his length. He wasn’t the longest you had ever had, but he was definitely the thickest.

His mouth widened considerably at the sight of his member down your throat. “You’re so hot when you suck my cock.”

You moaned at his words, the awkward Ashton now completely gone. The vibrations from your moan caused him to buck his hips. When your throat clenched around him he let out an exasperated grunt.

“I’m so close, fuck!” he moaned when he hit the back of your throat again. “I want to be inside you. Please,” he begged, tugging on your hair to pull you up.

“Are you sure?” you asked, surprised that he wanted more than just a blowjob. He nodded frantically and you stood up and walked towards his room. It took him a second to understand what your were doing, but he was soon on your heels.

Once you and Ashton entered his room, you hastily discarded your shirt and leggings. “Lie down,” you demanded.

He obeyed immediately and climbed onto his bed, only wearing his shirt. Your legs quivered at the sight of his member sticking straight up.

When he noticed you looking, a cocky smile spread across his face. “Enjoying the view?”

You rolled your eyes and tugged down your underwear, “Shut up, Irwin.”

His eyes widened when you moved to straddle him, “What’s wrong? Do you not want to?”

His head shook quickly, “No, I want to. It’s just, I haven’t been intimate with anyone since…” he trailed off.

“Since Ellie came?” He nodded. You leaned down and kissed his lips slowly. “Want me to be slow?”

“Fuck no,” he whined before lining up with your entrance so you could sink down.

Your mouth widened at his width. “Ash,” you moaned. You felt him sit up and lean against the bed frame.

“You feel so good, (Y/n),” he whispered, moving his hands to unbuckle your bra. He hummed when your boobs spilled out of their confines.

Slowly, you raised from his shaft and then quickly sunk back down. “Oh my god,” Ashton whimpered.

You started to grind on his cock, earning more moans from the two of you combined until he forcefully gripped your hips and continuously pulled you down on him.

“Ashton!” you yelled, forgetting about the five year-old not too far away.

He could hardly form a coherent sentence and mostly released loud moans and groans of pleasure.

“You’re so thick, Ash.”

He hummed at the feeling of your chests pressed together. “You’re so fucking tight, Jesus.”

“Are you close?” he asked, bringing a hand down to rub figure eights against your clit.

You clenched around him and nodded, “Yes.”

“I could fuck you all day,” he said, bringing his other hand to slap your ass.

Your mouth dropped as that sent you over the edge. You screamed his name repeatedly as the knot inside your stomach burst.

He continued to move your hips until he came in four, hot spurts.

When you had both settled down, he stopped your motion and rested his head in the crook of your neck, placing a few kisses in his wake.

“What does this mean?” you asked him, feeling a little guilty for fucking up your friendship because you knew that after the sex you had just had, you wouldn’t want to remain just friends.

He moved his head to look you in the eyes, “What do you want this to mean?” he asked.

You thought for a minute before responding, “I want this to not be a one-time thing.”

He smiled, “Thank god, I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I just don’t know what to tell your brother when he comes over in a couple minutes to see his baby sister naked, and still on my cock.”


Would ya’ll possibly want a part two or nah?

anonymous asked:

I've seen you say a couple times that you don't see or that you're disabled. Do you mind talking about it? I ask because I am an aspiring writer and it is really hard for me. I wanted to know how you managed or what it was like?

I don’t mind talking about it. It’s something that made me who I am.

When I was about 12, my health sort of started to eat itself. I suddenly had a ton of allergies, and there were days I couldn’t get out of bed. I got sick all the time. In freshman year of high school, I suddenly couldn’t see. For a long time a thing had been going on in my eyes, but I guess I didn’t think it was abnormal until it made it impossible for me to see. Basically this hole was kind of growing in my eyes, but it was more like a rainbow.

When I started having trouble with colors and detail vision, my mom freaked out a bit, because at the time, I was an award winning artist who had ideas of going to college for art. Then I started tripping over things, hitting my head, having trouble with depth perception. Then I got sick, and I mean sick.

I spent about 23 hours a day in bed. I had almost constant migraines. I had pain in my entire body. My skin turned yellow. I went to every kind of doctor you can think of and was tested for everything there is. One day, I had about 12 vials of blood drawn. No one knew what was wrong. The eyes weren’t that big a deal at first, because it seemed like I might have something really serious. The first couple of eye doctors I went to kind of looked at me and said “Oh it’s nothing big.” I actually had one guy tell me that my brain was just shutting off my eyes because I wasn’t using them properly. Yeah.

Then finally, my mom took me to a friend of our family who happened to be an eye surgeon. She did a free exam. I’ll never forget it because it was the first time anyone believed me. I’d been told by doctor after doctor that there was nothing wrong with me. I’d been referred to therapists, told I needed depression meds, told I was just going through a phase or needed attention. Then this doctor put on her head gear, looked into my eyes…took off the head gear…got new head gear…looked into my eyes…took off the headgear…got hand held tools…looked into my eyes…and then stared at me with her mouth hanging open.

“I can’t see the back of your eye,” she said. And suddenly the world simultaneously healed itself and flipped upside-fucking-down for me.

Then it was all about my eyes, the one symptom we could see happening. The one that was the most dangerous. But by then it was too late.

What happened is pretty simple: I apparently have some weird recessive DNA. It triggers certain bizarre immune issues at puberty. My immune system decided to attack my body. The eyes are a delicately balanced system. They show symptoms first. My immune system attacked them with a vengeance. They swelled up like balloons. Normal eye pressure is about 14-17. Mine was at a 22 at its best. It put a tremendous amount of pressure on my Retina, specifically my macula, cutting off blood flow like when you sit on your foot. You know those little shadowy things that float across your eyes? They’re called protein floaters. My eyes had produced so many of those that the doctor could not see through them. It was a fog.

They had to find a way to map my eye, to track the damage. Cue the eye exam from hell. I have always been, even before my autoimmune disorder, deathly allergic to melon. Any kind of melon. But now I was allergic to all sorts of shit, fruits vegetables, all kinds of crap. My dad is allergic to contrast dyes. So when the retinologist suggested this dye-based eye exam that is kind of like a CAT scan, my mom said “no”. See, they inject you with this dye and then they flash this weird light in your eyes. It causes the dye to glow, and then they can see the things through the fog. My mom told them I was too sensitive to stuff for that to be safe. The doc assured her they’d put a butterfly in my arm, meaning the vein would be kept open, and a syringe of benedryl was set on the counter. They’d never had anyone react, and they needed the pictures or there was nowhere to go from there.

So they put this dye into me, and it was like I’d been injected with fire, but there was no way around it, and to me, I knew they only had about 90 seconds to get the images they needed. So I sucked it up. finally the burning began to spread. Suddenly my back felt like I was being stabbed, and I suddenly couldn’t speak. I tapped my hands on my mom, then began sneezing spontaneously. My mom lifted my shirt, and I had quarter-sized hives. The nurse said “Stop sneezing on the camera”. Yeah.

My mom went ballistic. The doctor flew up the stairs and gave me the emergency meds. I slid into a dissociation state and nearly out of my chair. They had to prop me against the camera for the next couple minutes and reinject the dye. No other way, you see.

They did this test every few months for a few years.

But then there was treatment. Not much they could do, except try to get the swelling under control. Only way to do that was corticosteroid injections in the eye. Yup. A needle in the eye. No, they don’t knock you out. They numb the surface of the eye with the same numbing drops they give you for the exams and then they come at you with a needle, tell you to look down and to hold still. And you fucking do.

I was 15 when that started.

I went to experimental clinics, labs, and joined studies. I dropped out of those. Why? It’s pretty simple. The first day I came to the exams, I was kept waiting for over two hours. I was taken into a room. I was left there. No information, no talking. Suddenly a man came in followed by a group of people, all in lab coats. He started moving me around like I was a doll and talking like, “The patient presents with…the patient this, the patient that…”

I shoved him back and said, “The patient’s name is Kristina, and she is 16.”

He finished his exam, and when he left, after the students had gone, he took two Q-tips, dipped them in that pink shit your dentist uses to swab your gums before an injection, and SHOVED them under my eyelids with a cocky smirk.

The patient will never be an snotty little bitch again, I guess.

So yeah. Fuck those guys. They gave me two injections in one day, which no one had ever done before, because it was almost impossible to function with two pimple-like bubbles on your eyeballs.

Still my health was bad. Then all of a sudden, when my mom had given up, It just wasn’t anymore. Suddenly, I was fine, and all that was left were the eyes. I went back to school, except now I was blind.

In a few months, I’d lost about 80% of my perfect vision. I was photophobic. I got horrible and constant headaches. I walked with a cane. And not a single fucking teacher believed me, except my civics teacher, who had gone blind at a young age due to some other weird eye disorder, and my physics teacher who was deaf. I had teachers send me to the office for wearing my sunglasses (with a note on file). I had teachers get on my case about having an audio recorder and CD player for my books. I had teachers call me names, make fun of me, make me leave class to photocopy their notes larger, so that I missed the lecture the notes were on. I had teachers take my medications which had to be in my possession because of their time-sensitive nature and constant administration and hide them in their desks as punishment for asking questions or demanding help. I had classmates pick on me, but luckily, I was well-liked, and I was an officer in the ROTC. I even excelled there in spite of my vision, because my Captain believed in my leadership skills.

I always tell this story because I think it is funny. We had this special boot camp we got to go to if we were in the upper ranks of the ROTC. If you joined the military after high school (which I could never do) you got a higher paygrade for having gone through it. Almost like taking a couple JC classes in the military. It was grueling and all physical fitness, obstacle courses, PT, classes, guard duty…fucking blah. Our unit was allowed six participants. I sort of figured that it wasn’t really fair for me to go, even with my high rank (a company XO). To my complete fucking shock, my Captain recommended me to go, cutting out a classmate (and ex) of mine who was higher in rank. The boy went ape-shit. He went on and on about how unfair it was. He even went to the school board. My Captain made his reasons clear; he told them that the academy isn’t about military sponsorship. It’s about skills and quality. He didn’t care if I had a disability. In his eyes I had more innate ability than anyone there because I had worked so hard just to be where I was. The boy was angry. I told my Captain I appreciated the gesture, but honestly, we ought to make it fair. I told him that we should train to meet the PT standards, and that if this kid could make his, but i couldn’t make mine, he should go. I made mine. He didn’t. He complained about that too. At the last minute, we were told one extra person could come because another school had lost one. So he came anyway. The whole time he bitched about me being there. When I got there, the real military officers gave me shit like you wouldn’t believe, because they weren’t used to dealing with disabilities or recognizing that they can’t discriminate against high schoolers by law. The commander of the unit tried to dress me down in front of everybody for wearing sunglasses. I was pretty pleased with myself for telling him off but still sounding respectful. He kept saying “Take off my glasses”. I told him they weren’t his. They were mine, by law, and that if he had a problem with that, he could consult my attorney, the DOJ, and the doctor who prescribed them. He tried to fuck with me. I didn’t say anything except to ask him if he wanted me to have a migraine, because that’s what taking the glasses off means. He was so confused by me he walked away and called my Captain over. There were words. After that, he came up to me once or twice, almost like a test, to ask me if I needed him to slow down or if I was getting around alright. He wasn’t being nice. He was egging me in a condescending tone and with very bullying language. He’s a drill instructor, and you know what, that’s his job. I told him I was fine. But I made a decision: I wasn’t just going to make the female PT marks. I was going to test out of this fucking place at the male PT marks. And I fucking did. That boy…had an asthma attack on the track (I had asthma too, but I worked my ass off while he coasted on his “boyness”) and failed. At the certificate ceremony, the commander came up to me and said I had really impressed him, and that it was a shame I couldn’t enter the Navy. I thanked him, but what I wanted to say was, “Go fuck yourself and take the NAVY with you”. I ended up the Battalion XO Senior year. This would have given me a guaranteed spot in Westpoint if I could have taken it. My Captain cried when he told me he was sorry he had to give it to one of our Company XO’s. I told him that it was best for everyone, because I am not the type of person to enjoy taking orders. I had learned that about myself.

He laughed.

Around Junior year I got people to pay attention. My doctors got the DOJ and the Social Security people involved. A woman came to my school and enforced compliance in a tone of voice I’d never heard anyone but my mother use. She threatened to rain brimstone down on them if they didn’t give me what I needed, and things changed.

My parents wanted me to take a full scholarship to a local school, but I wanted to get away. So I did. I wanted to travel abroad, so i did. And when I was 19, they perfected one of the surgeries they had been working on the entire time I’d been struggling with this.

See, the injections had brought and kept the swelling down, but that meant that the fog was still there (since ocular fluid doesn’t replace), and the structures in the eye had been stretched all to shit, and were laying in my eye like melted plastic wrap. The old surgery was like a blind man hacking with a machete, but the new surgery used fluorescent dyes to track movement. Dyes that wouldn’t kill me. The old surgery had a 50-50 shot at complete loss of vision and made you lay on your face for three weeks. The new was fool proof and took 45 minutes. So, I got one eye done. They swapped out all the fluid and replaced it with saline. They peeled the distorted membrane off the macula. They stitched up my eyeball and gave me a sick metal eye patch. Looked like a fucking space pirate. It was rad.

But the blind spot is still there. The cataracts caused by the steroids are still there. The scars are there.

A few years later I had the other one done too.

My college was great. It took a lot of work getting all my reading done, about 500 pages minimum, per week, done via audio. I used to spend hours at the pool table in our residence hall, listening to my books and practicing. I got pret damn good too, at pool. It was difficult taking notes or working with a note taker. It was scary traveling by myself. It was hard to get people to understand there wasn’t anything WRONG with me. Just that my eyes don’t work even though it seems like I’m normal and fine, and like they should. People always think to be legally blind you have to be completely blind, and they think you’re not going to be able to defend yourself. I’ve been targeted by pickpockets. I’ve been followed by scary dudes. I’ve been treated like shit, laughed at, and accused by full grown adults of faking to get privileges, all because I can look at the place where their head should be and smile at the blank spot there. All because I can walk down a flight of stairs with a few neat tricks I know that have nothing to do with a cane.

But shit…you probably didn’t mean to ask for my life story. I’m going to get back to the point. My writing. What has it done for that? Like how can you be a writer if you can’t fucking see? Technology. It’s been amazing. I can use a computer same as anyone. The Kindle has been a fucking revolution for me because for the first time in a decade and a half I could read without pain and suffering. Just…all the things it does have made life so much easier than it used to be. It got me out of bad relationships with people who used my disability as a control. It gave me a little bit of confidence back. It helped me know I could handle myself.

And really, I think my vision loss had a lot to do with my writing. In some ways it gives me different perspective, sure, but it’s more than that. I was undeclared when I entered college. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I thought about history or sociology. My mom had a degree in that and she was an English teacher. I wanted art history, but what the fuck was the point in that? Couldn’t see a damn thing. And then I had a class in poetry, and shit…That made sense. I’d always loved language and writing. Always been okay at it. Dorte stuff but never thought about doing it for a living. But then it was like yeah…yeah I’m gonna fucking do that. Just like when I decided to meet the male PT standards.

If it is in you. If you love it. If it defines you and possesses you, it does not matter how fucked up you are. You will find a way. You don’t have a choice. You are that thing. And you’ll adapt. You just have to let yourself. You have to keep pushing. You have to learn how to handle frustration. you have to train yourself into stamina. You just keep going. I’m nowhere near as successful as I want to be. I’m still going. I hope I get even better. I hope I can say things that make truth more obvious, or that help people put words to things they have always wanted to say.

I don’t need my eyes to be a fucking firestorm. That’s just me. Eyes don’t mean shit.

So keep going. Keep doing whatever you need to. Do it better and better. Bend yourself around it. People who see you struggle will think they’re lucky, but you and I know the truth: they’re not even close to the kind of strong you are. Not even a little bit.

Visited, or Visitors? (a weird college story)

So this is my own Weird College Shit story and requires some set up. I had my first year of college in 2009-10, and I spent it at a tiny school in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by farms. The nearest major city was about three hours drive away. The small town I lived in was literally built around the college. My apartment was to the east of school grounds, and my high school best friend (we’ll call her Elise) was in the dorms on the opposite side of campus.

Elise was heavily involved in the drama department. I was in the improv troupe, but my depression and social anxiety meant I was more of an outlier than a “true” drama kid at the college. (They tended to devote all their time and energy to whatever play was happening at the given time and I just… couldn’t.) As a result, while Elise was invited to every drama department-hosted get together in existence, I only found out when she asked if I wanted to go along.

It was Halloween and while most of the college students were at a huge party being held at an apartment as far from campus as possible in this Nowheresville of a town, one of the seniors in the drama department had rented out the black box theatre for the night. Dress code was 1920s and 1940s, and they’d hired a few members of the school’s junior jazz band for live music.

Elise forgot to tell me until the day of the party. As a result, while her hair and make up were perfect and she was dressed in a pretty, beaded and fringed dress from a play she’d done in junior high, along with a faux fur coat borrowed from the props department for the occasion, I had nothing era-appropriate. I ended up going in my clubbing clothes - a mini black dress, a leather jacket, skull-print stockings, and my knee-high, PVC bitch boots. (The heavy jewelry and black lipstick was just a required addition at that point.)

Please keep in mind that neither of us had anything to drink that night, so everything that happened hereafter was while we were both stone cold sober.

We arrived late, only to find we weren’t really welcome. Everyone was acting… off. (We found out later that one of Elise’s “friends” had been spreading ugly rumors about her, jealous that Elise had gotten a part for which they had both tried out.) When we approached folks to say hello, they were polite but talked over any of our attempts to join in their conversations. It was awkward and uncomfortable, and at the time we had no clue why, which was aggravating. Despite the party going to till 2 AM, the pair of us decided to call it a night after half an hour, heading back to Elise’s around 11 PM.

Despite never talking about it,  the deal whenever we went somewhere late was always that I would get Elise back to her dorm room, then call her as soon as I got to my apartment. (Neither of us had a car, and of us two I was the paranoid one who carried a knife and pepper spray, and had no problem telling people who were creeping me out to fuck off or being willing to actually dial the local police dispatch number if my instincts started screaming.)

We were walking through the middle of the deserted campus on the way to Elise’s, when we passed the bell tower. (Just to clarify, the “tower” is actually three open blocks built of bricks, the first one five-by-five across, and the same in height. Each block was progressively smaller, stacked on top of one another with four clocks set into the sides of the top block, all showing the same time.) What caught my attention was the three people sitting in the open space underneath. They seemed about our age, but I didn’t recognize any of them. Two guys and one girl, all wearing beanies, light coats, and flip flops despite the cold. (It was low-30s Fahrenheit, or 0-2° C.)

One of them had a bongo drum. He was keeping a beat, while the other two traded lines of improvised poetry.

I slowed down enough to figure out what they were saying. Elise was shivering, but I was wearing more layers than her so I didn’t feel the chill as strongly. Before I knew what I was doing, I’d plopped myself down beside the trio and pulled Elise onto my lap, wrapping my arms around her to keep her warm.

I nodded to the last person to speak - the girl. The three of them were staring at us, but eventually she repeated the last line she’d said, and I responded with a new line.

We went back and forth, from me to the girl to me to the boy, and around again. Bongo Guy started to up the speed of his beat pattern with each turn. I can’t repeat a single line from the entire time now, and only have a distant memory of feeling lightheaded and high. (A few days later when I asked Elise about it, she told me our words were about the moon and old gods and eternity vs the human life span. She said she’d been surprised and caught up in the whole thing until she didn’t care that she was freezing her ass off.)

This went on until the bell above us started to chime the time - 12 AM. I was suddenly aware of how bad Elise was trembling from the night air, and the cold I’d been ignoring came creeping up my body. I finished a pair of rhyming lines as I stood and helped Elise to her feet, then gave the trio a little bow. (I was in a traveling Shakespeare troupe in high school. You don’t finish a verse of poetry without a bow. It’s Just Not Done.) I wished them “a lovely All Hallow’s” and goodnight. They nodded and stayed seated.

I got Elise to her dorm then headed for my apartment. On the way, I passed by the bell tower again. The three people were no longer there.

No names were exchanged that night, and in the two semesters Elise and I were at the school, neither of us saw them on campus or in the town before we left the school.

My favorite part about the whole thing is that from my perspective, these three modern beatniks were strange and possibly magic. But from their point of view, what did me and Elise seem like? Two girls you don’t recognize (one wearing a flapper dress, and one looking like she just walked out of a 90s goth club) invite themselves into your poetry circle on Halloween, three days before a full moon. One of them matches you, line for line, for nearly an hour. And as soon as the clock strikes Midnight, they leave. You never see them again.

-tornthorn

I feel so much sometimes it is overwhelming.

I learned, I think, that I need to feel wanted. High maintenance, I know!! I want touch, time and to feel wanted!!!???? Talk about being demanding!! I spent years thinking my ex didn’t want me… He didn’t give compliments, open doors, ask me on dates, take time to observe if I was satisfied sexually. I don’t intend to complain about him. I am sure 90% was just me not knowing how he showed that he wanted me. That I was important to him. I am sure this is an issue that is deeply buried inside me as it has been festering inside for a few days as I am learning others modes of communication. It feels like such a weakness to me, that I want to bury it in the sand and walk away. It is the epitome of lack of confidence. But, I can’t control the past and what thought processes led to this faulty idea that anyone wouldn’t want me whether as a friend, sister, companion, co-worker, or lover. We all have value. So, no burying for me.

Meant to Be (2)

Meant to Be Masterlist

Pairing: Prince!Bucky X Servant!Reader

Words: 1584

Warnings: Angsty I guess.

Summary: As the news of the King’s death spreads throughout the land, lords and ladies from the nearby countries swarm the castle to offer condolences to the queen and her son. As the prince mourns his father, he is met with the reality that he must now choose a wife and begin his reign.

A/N: Just posting it until I put the tags up. It takes a while but they’ll be up in a few minutes. Italics are flashbacks. Let me know if you want to be tagged HERE.

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anonymous asked:

How are you still a fan of Sam after all he's let happen to the fandom and to shippers in his name? You haven't personally been hurt by it so is it easier for you to ignore and pretend none of it ever happened? I'm struggling with my feelings about him and would love your insight.

As I have always said, I fan how I choose, and do my best to allow others the same privilege. If anyone reading this thinks I am talking about you, I promise you, I’m not.

I am sorry that there are people in the fandom who feel hurt. Its a shame that that was the result of something that should have been a fun and light-hearted experience. Please, however, don’t make assumptions, even posed as a question, such as ‘You haven’t personally been hurt by it so is it easier for you to ignore and pretend none of it ever happened?’ You don’t know what I have and haven’t been hurt by in this fandom, or by whom. I’m not pretending or ignoring anything. But I’m also not letting things have more presence in my life than they deserve.

You ask how I can still be a fan of Sam. First of all, I don’t believe that Sam did anything to fans, or allowed anything to be done to fans. I’ll talk more about that later. Even if I believed Sam did do something, that still doesn’t require me to stop supporting him. There is no one on this earth who has ever hurt me as deeply as my husband. No one has ever hurt him as deeply as I have. We don’t set out to hurt each other, but life is messy and people are imperfect. This is why I work every day of my life to practice the brutally hard art of forgiveness. Forgiveness isn’t an ‘If/Then’ equation. It’s not, ‘If this person is submissive and humble and admits all of their faults, then I will forgive.’ Forgiveness is a single party activity that is not dependent on any other person’s actions or opinions. I can forgive my husband when he hurts me because I choose to, whether or not he has asked for forgiveness. Forgiveness is for me, not him. Forgiveness makes me a better, happier, stronger person, more in control of my life. Let me ask you a question: Why would I NOT forgive my husband? Why would I hold on to anger, hurt or frustration? How would it benefit me? What would I get out of it? Heartburn, high blood pressure, anxiety - I don’t need more of that in my life. Besides, I know my husband is a really, really excellent man. His list of positive qualities is miles long. But he is imperfect, as am I. I forgive him, he forgives me, we focus on being better, learning from our mistakes and reveling in the soul fulfilling joy we find in each other. That is not ignoring or pretending, that is choosing our own happiness and health in spite of the messiness that is sharing life with another human. We are all responsible for our own happiness and happiness is a choice. My life is far from perfect and far from easy, but I am a generally happy person because I choose to be. Even if he did do something which hurt me (he didn’t), I can choose to forgive and move on. How can I still be a fan of Sam? Because I choose to be.

You ask how I can still be a fan of Sam after all he’s let happen to the fandom. He didn’t let anything happen to the fandom. We are not some unified group who get together each month and read the minutes and faithfully follow the bullet items on the agenda. Fandoms are very fluid bodies. There is no entrance exam, or document to sign, no oath to swear or dues to pay. People come and go as they please with no explanation due anyone at any time. Therefore, there is no control over what happens in a fandom at any given time, and my perception of this fandom is completely different from another fan, who may not be on Tumblr, but is on Twitter, or who is on Tumblr, but we have no followers in common. There are the Instagram fans, the Facebook fans, the multi-platform fans, the book group fans - and in each of these areas there are subsets of fans such as fanart, fanfiction, shipper, non-shipper, gifmaker, video maker, live tweeter, sam fan, cait fan, toby fan, graham fan, duncan fan, etc, etc, etc. There are thousands upon thousands of people who consider themselves part of this fandom. There are subsets of this fandom I probably haven’t even conceived of. We couldn’t possibly all share the same experiences, even in the same fandom, because there is simply too much diversity on every possible level. Therefore it is literally impossible for anything to happen to the fandom. You believe that something terrible happened to the shippers, but not even that is possible. Who are the shippers? Am I one, do you know how I categorize myself? We are all in control of our own experience. Sometimes that means not engaging or blocking, muting, ignoring, biting your tongue and generally not paying attention to people who don’t deserve your attention. It’s not Sam’s job to tutor us all about how to successfully fan, and it’s not his job to soothe ruffled feathers when one person hurts another person. How could he even begin to know? There are two sides to every story, so even if he was made aware of one side, what about the other side? We are adults. Our problems are our own. Not his. He has enough problems.

Again, you ask how can I still be a fan of Sam after everything that was done in his name. I don’t buy it. I refuse to hold Sam liable for other people’s actions. They are responsible for those actions. I am a Christian. I do not condone the thousands of years of atrocities that have been and continue to be committed in Jesus Christ’s name. I’m pretty sure He doesn’t either. I’m pretty sure Mohammed and Allah and myriad other well known figures don’t condone what was/is done in their names. I also believe that you are making assumptions about what Sam has condoned and what he hasn’t, what he knows and what he doesn’t and what his responsibilities are. Some people see malice where others see sarcasm. Some see apathy where other’s see focus directed somewhere else. We simply don’t know what has gone on behind the scenes, or what people really felt, thought or did. If someone was a horrible bully or troll (and there were several someones) that is on them. They made bad decisions. Really bad decisions. I do know that no one was required to engage with anyone else on Twitter or any other platform. Lucky for me, it isn’t my job in life to judge other people. My job is to do my best to be a good person and be good to other people. I believe we should try to lead by example. I am a fan of Sam because I don’t believe he did anything or allowed anything to be done to fans.

Do you really want to know why I am still a fan of Sam? You think you’ve been hurt by him, or someone associated with him? You think this has caused great distress in your life? Maybe it has. Here is something I know about Sam. His dad left him when he was three. Three years old. I have four kids. I know intimately what it’s like to have a three year old. I know how much they need. I know what it takes to raise a boy to manhood. It’s not easy. Sam had no contact with his dad. None. No advise, no outings, no support, no role model. He had no father. I’m sure this hurt him deeply and continues to hurt him. After years of absolutely no contact with his father, they were reconnected. His dad was dying of cancer. He did not push him away, tell him to die alone, tell him that he left so there could be no relationship, or any of a million other things he could have done. He chose the higher path. He traveled to see his father. He truly connected with him. He learned about him. He go to know him. He offered him love and support as this flawed man was dying. In short, he offered at least some form of forgiveness. I’m sure it was hard for him. I’m sure there were many horrible things he wanted to say. Maybe he did say them. But we know from his own words that it didn’t end on a horrible note. It ended on a positive, healing, healthy note. That’s pretty remarkable and admirable. That’s just one example out of many that illustrate why I think Sam is worthy of my attention. He is a good man. He is generous with his time, talent and wealth. He cares about people and he isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty in the process of helping others.

You are absolutely not required to be a fan of Sam. It’s a supremely optional activity. But my question for you is why would I NOT be a fan of Sam? I have yet to hear a single person give me even one legitimate reason why I shouldn’t be a fan, considering that I should probably hold him to the same standard to which I hold myself. We’re both pretty flawed, messy humans. Isn’t life grand?

Some Beauty and the Beast things

-When Cogsworth tried shushing Lumiere during Be Our Guest and Lumiere responded by obnoxiously singing louder.
-Pere Robert being the real MVP
-Disney made me watch Lumiere fucking DAB. TWICE. WITH MY OWN TWO EYES.
-Prince “How many towers can I climb to get high enough to catch one last glimpse of her” Adam
-The Beast going from “a creature like me” to “I am not a beast”
-“Was that a joke? Are you making jokes now?” “…….Maybe.”
-The Beast scooting closer to Belle during dinner
-“There’s a beast running wild, there’s no question; But I fear the wrong monster’s released.” b r u h
-The expression The Beast makes after Belle asks him if anyone could be happy if they aren’t free, and the subtle nod that follows
-“Poof-poof”

A Winchester’s Legacy - Dean Winchester x Reader - Part 2

Title: A Winchester’s Legacy

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 5,025

Warnings: Character death (not main ones)

Summary: You’ve known the Winchesters all your life, yet when the father of your child dies you never thought they would take you in the bunker with them. Nor would you ever think the love you’d feel again for the older Winchester as he becomes a father for your baby. Who would ever think he has just the same wish: A family with you.

A/N: And yes all the fluff in the world!

Read Part 1 here!

“That’s my boy.” he grinned full of pride as he looked at the two of you, his eyes locking with yours as he cupped your face and leaned down to kiss your forehead. His lips lingered over your skin a lot more than they should.

He cleared his throat, blinking as he looked back down at the baby in your arms “I really am putting all of my faith in you, buddy.” he said with a half smile and a grin spread on your lips “I know you’re gonna be a true Winchester, though, and not tire her much.”

“Since when has ever a Winchester not tired me?” you scoffed with a raised eyebrow and he shrugged.

“Not… yet, at least, but we’re all making progress.” he gave you an innocent look “And when J grows up he’ll prove to you how awesome the Winchesters are.”

You giggled, and it wasn’t just because of how adorably he was talking with so much pride and happiness to help you raise your son, but also the fact that he already considered him a Winchester. He had your last name so far but truth was you’d give everything… for him to actually be Dean’s son. Not that you didn’t love his father, you still would think about him sometimes, but then all it took was one glance at the older Winchester and your heart was on overdrive, skipping beats all the freaking time.

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How to get Straight A's!:

Hello Study Buddies! 
Thank you so so much for over 150 followers!! That was such an amazing surprise to wake up to this morning! Any ways, I wanted to share this with you because with these tips you can improve some of your grades you receive and work towards getting straight A's 

Tip One: Write down ALL assignments on either your agenda, calendar, or on your phone! This not only helps you knowing when your assignment is due, but also helps when deciding what should take priority! 

Tip Two: Make a do now, do later list!! I started doing this last year and it helped me so much! Basically have a To-Do list with a line down the middle and write your nightly assignments on one side and things due that Friday on the other. Completing everything you need to do for the night before starting the things due later in the week can ensure you’re completing everything in a timely manner. 

Tip Three: Do not think you are not smart getting other grades! High school can become stressful at some (or most) times, so knowing you’re not going to get all 100% on everything you do is something that will really help you manage your mental stability. 

Tip Four: Knowing when you need a break! As much as school and focus go hand in hand, wanting a break sometimes is understandable so on the weekends going to a movie or coffee shop with friends is amazing to just forget about the pressures of school. 

Tip Five: Form some kind of friendship with your teacher! While just because teachers like you doesn’t mean they’re going to give you all A’s having a comfortable enough relationship with your teacher to ask them about the grade they gave you on a certain assignment or going in after school to get extra help can show your dedication to learn and make your teacher take notice.

**Disclaimer** Getting straight A’s does NOT express how smart you are or be something that defines you. I personally got mostly A-/B+ my freshman year of high school which gave me a 3.8 gpa and I am proud of myself and just hope to keep improving from that! Everyone who is reading this is amazing one way or another whether it is sports, arts, or academics so try your best and make the most out of the education you are getting!! As you can see all of the tips I shared were just preparations to get the grades you seek so WHAT YOU PUT IN YOU GET OUT!

Thank you! ~ @studyingwithjulia