god bless this man and his existence

{📚} “…Validar… A man I may call Father, but never Dad. He didn’t care for me as anything more than the vessel that would bring about the resurrection of his beloved god, and therefore I may recognize him as nothing more than the man who brought me into this world. My life has been both blessed and cursed, but at the same time, it never would have even been if it weren’t for him. And for that reason and that one alone… I thank him on this day to honor fathers. For giving me this life that I shall live and choose the life I wish.”

ANNOUNCING the NOVENA to the SACRED HEART BEGINS 14 JUNE

We may say that devotion to the Sacred Heart began on Calvary.   When the Heart of Christ was pierced on the Cross, it opened the door to realising how deeply Jesus loves us.   In return, He wants nothing more than for us to love Him with all our hearts.   There is nothing that God wants more than for us to love Him without reserve.

What God wants more than anything else is for us to love Him more than anyone else in the world.

This is the sum total of our Catholic faith.   We believe that God made us out of sheer love.   None of us, none of us had to exist.   We also believe He became man to die on the Cross out of love for us.   We further believe that He is present in the Blessed Sacrament with His living Heart of flesh so that we may come to Him and tell Him how deeply we love Him.

In today’s love-starving world, how we need to follow the example of Jesus Christ in His unspeakable love for us.   If there is one adjective that describes the modern world, this world is a loveless world.   This world is a selfish world.   This world is so preoccupied with space and time that it gives almost no thought to eternity and the everlasting joys that await those who have served God faithfully here on earth.

How do we serve God faithfully?   We serve Him only as faithfully as we serve Him lovingly, by giving ourselves to the needs of everyone whom God puts into our lives.   No one reaches heaven automatically.   Heaven must be dearly paid for.   The price of reaching heaven is the practice of selfless love here on earth.

That is why God puts into our lives so many occasions for loving people who obviously do not love us, or giving ourselves to people who have never given themselves to us.   How desperately we need, especially in today’s world, to learn that God became man in order to suffer and die out of love for us on the Cross.

That is what devotion to the Sacred Heart is all about.   It is the practice of selfless love toward selfish people.   It is giving ourselves to persons that do not give themselves to us. In all of our lives, God has placed selfish persons who may be physically close to us but spiritually are strangers and even enemies.   That is why God places unkind, unjust, even cruel people into our lives.   By loving them, we show something of the kind of love that God expects of His followers.

Devotion of the Sacred Heart is the solution to the gravest problem in the modern world today.   How can we give ourselves to those who do not love us, who even positively hate us?   We can love them, with the help of divine grace, by following the example of Jesus Christ, who died on the Cross out of love for a sin-laden human race……..Servant of God Fr John A. Hardon SJ

Let us Pray – starting on Wednesday 14 June.

Whenever you're feeling sad...

…just remember Star Wars fam: Poe was supposed to die forever within the first 20 minutes of TFA. Bless you JJ for keeping him alive and bless you Rian for giving him a story in TLJ and for the love of god bless Oscar Isaac for being the most handsome man in existence who gets to bless the world once more with his beautiful gay presence as Poe Dameron.

So whenever you’re sad… just remember Poe Dameron is alive for YOU ❤

He disbelieved me. He continued to resist. Corralling him took great effort. But the closer we got to Savannah, his resistance began to diminish. I couldn’t say why. I wasn’t expecting it. Perhaps he’d finally reached the limits of his physical ability to fight. Or perhaps, as the promise of seeing Thomas grew closer, he grew more comfortable letting go of this man he’d created in response to his loss. The man whose mind I’d come to know so well; whose mind I had in some ways incorporated into my own. It was a strange experience to see something from it so unexpected.

He chose to believe it, because he wasn’t the man that I’d come to know at all. But one who had existed beforehand, waking from a long and terrible nightmare. Reorienting to the daylight.

—  John Silver, talking about James Mcgraw and tearing my GODDAMN HEART OUT, 4x10 

I want to write like Langston Hughes.. with the ability to invoke a sense of refuge to my black and brown peers struggling with existence.

I want to write like Maya Angelou.. God bless the black woman who understands her divine qualities and doesn’t diminish herself to fit in.

I want to write like Tupac Shakur.. and make you feel my pain of a black man growing up in a system rigged against him from his first breath to his last

I want to write like Anderson .Paak.. with that groovy sound able to free you from your shackles long enough to make you smile and clap to the beat…

I want to write like Erykah Badu and Alicia Keys.. a goddess like approach with the ability to stop the masses in their tracks with the voice of sirens..

Instead…

I write like me… with characteristics that I’ve gathered from all of my inspirations. A groovy, woke, black man struggling with existence but marching to the beat of his own drum..

I write like I’m something more than what I am because I write with the projection of my future on my mind.. I write for the past, present, and future, a sound and drive to stand the test of time.

I am that rose that grew from concrete..

I am the negro that speaks of rivers..

I am the soul that loses its course from time to time and still I rise…

I am the dreamer..

I am the poet..

I am the artist..

And to you, that may be nothing more than a poet searching for love, but to myself, it’s the sound of my ancestors buried deep into my core reminding me of my divine creation from the man above..

I am all of these things..

But most importantly,

I am me…

—  Aaron Christopher
Flood my Mornings: Album
  • This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.
  • Previous installment: Protocol (Jamie and Claire enjoy a last night out on their honeymoon )

Album

I jolted awake and looked wildly for the alarm clock, heart racing. 12:43 AM. I’d agreed to do morning shifts for my first week back at the hospital, but even so, I didn’t need to be up for hours, yet. So, why…?

Jamie. The absence of him next to me on the pillow. 

Several nights on the Cape, I had awoken to find him in the throes of some terror, or gone from the bed and clinging to the window frame, letting the cold air brace him. He’d barely spoken, in those times, either stayed away from me entirely, or letting me soothe him back into sleep. It was like Paris all over again, and thought of that made my heart seize. We hadn’t yet spoken of Culloden…but I knew that there were terrors from that day, and horrors that followed, from which Jamie was far from free.

A quick search of the house, though, revealed him sitting comfortably on the living room sofa. I instantly breathed a sigh of relief: he looked a bit pale and was staring off into space, but looked serene and peaceful…unmistakably happy…and in a very familiar way.

He raised a can of beer to me in salute. “Care to join me?”

I crossed to him eagerly. “In sitting, yes. I’ll pass on the drink, since I’ve got to be up for work in a few hours.”

“Suit yourself.” He shifted his legs to make room for me. Perhaps hoping to prevent future “bum Da” incidents, he was wearing the nightshirt I’d bought for him. In terms of construction and coverage, it wasn’t much different from the long shirts in which he’d habitually slept in the eighteenth century,  but I had to suppress a giggle at sight of it. Just give him a sleeping cap and a scowl and he’d make the world’s most seductive Ebenezer Scrooge.

Suppressing the urge to reflect further on the absurd scenarios such a thought conjured, I kissed his cheek and said, “Trouble sleeping, love?”

“Indeed, though I dinna ken how, for I’m bone-weary. Achy and pealy-wally from the drive home, I suppose. Hoped a draught might help settle me.”

Home,” I murmured as I snuggled against him, feeling a thrill run through me at the word. “I like the sound of that.”

“As do I, my Sassenach.” 

His voice was warm, still sweet with his smile, though I didn’t think the prospect of living under the same roof was what he’d been thinking of when I’d walked in. “Were you thinking about Bree, just then, by any chance?”

He gave a small ha! of impressed surprise. “Either you’ve picked up a knack for divining thoughts, ma dame blanche, or I’ve lost mine for inscrutability!”

“The latter, I think,” I said feeling the happy glow of him spreading to my own body. “At least where Bree is concerned, anyway. You get this look about you when you think about her…or hold her…or look at her.”

That very look spread once again across his features: the sweetest smile of contented joy.

“Couldna help it even if I tried,” he said, squeezing my hand. “Though I never would. Just the fact that she exists–yours, and mine, a new person God created from our love…” He shook his head in wonderment. “It’s the simplest fact there is, that bairns typically result from coupling, but the miracle and gift of it hits me deep…and I still sometimes canna believe I have you both to care for…to love.” He set down his drink and pulled me closer with both arms, kissing my forehead. “I’m a verra blessed man, indeed.”

We’re blessed. All of us.” I kissed him softly on the neck. “That’s what you were thinking about, then?”

“Aye. That and…well, specifically, I was thinking of what Brianna must have been like when she was first born. I’ll wager she was a bonnie one, aye?”  

“She was, indeed,” I said. “Bonnie and loud and perfect.”

“Tell me about her?” he asked quietly.

“Of course,” I said, rubbing his arm. “Would you like to see, as well?”

See?”  His eyebrows drew together for a moment, then raised in excitement, comprehension dawning. “You have PhotoGraphs?”

In answer, I leaned forward and plucked up the photo album from its niche under the coffee table. Jamie sat on the edge of the sofa, his greed apparent. I perched beside him and opened the book to lay across both our laps.

The first page held four pictures, all taken unbeknownst to me by a kindly, perceptive nurse. The winter sun was streaming through a window onto my face. I was in a white hospital gown, my hair unbelievably messy in a cloud around my head, but I was oblivious, beaming down at a swaddled bundle in my arms: my daughter, who I was holding for the first time.

I’d gotten to see her immediately after the cesarean, I explained to Jamie, but only for the barest moment, with scarcely enough time to kiss her forehead before she was whisked off to the intensive care unit. Her lungs were not functioning as they should. Her skin held a blue tinge, made even more alarming in appearance by the pasty vernix that still coated her face. With tufts of copper hair and her ears…those precious, wing-like ears, she was so like Faith, so small…and so still…I began screaming as soon as they took her away. They had to put me under full anesthesia to close the incision.

I awoke from medicated nightmares, alone in a bleak hospital room…with no child to be seen. I’d not screamed further, too weak for the task, but I had shaken and sobbed until my bones were sapped of all energy, my soul of any desire to move or speak. The doctors were kind and soothing, telling me that everything would be fine, but giving me no concrete, medical news of Brianna to reassure me. I hadn’t had anyone there with me at the hospital. Father Gentry had come by a day or two later, and would have come sooner if asked, but on the first night of Brianna’s life, I had been completely and truly alone in the world. In that darkness, I’d mourned for Brianna. For Faith. For Jamie. And I’d made contingency plans for how to end my life.

But then, I’d woken to a gentle shaking and a warm, red, squirming bundle being placed in my arms.

I couldn’t have said how long I held her. Laughing. Weeping. Kissing her. Nourishing her with my body. Making promises to her. Talking to her about Jamie. Talking to Jamie about her.

The real, breathing Jamie pulled me closer to him. “You were all alone, mo ghraidh.” He leaned his head against mine, voice thick with weeping. “It… truly breaks my heart….that I wasna there for ye either time. I’m so verra sorry for–” His voice broke.

“You couldn’t help it either time,” I said, though my voice was tight with pain. I reached a hand up to draw him in for a kiss. 

The notion that had been growing in my heart this last week stirred once more. Was this the wrong time to voice it? Or…

“If someday there should…be a third time…?”

The transformations that came over his face were breathtaking, a coup of utter joy, immediately followed by terror. “But you said yourself that both of ye could have died. Surely you canna put yourself at risk again.” When I didn’t immediately respond, he shook his head, hard. “No. I willna lose you, Claire.”

It would be dangerous to conceive again, the doctors had said. At the time, I’d assured them the point was entirely moot. Now… “You won’t lose me, Jamie,” I said, with far more certainty than I felt. “I want another child with you. Not at once, perhaps, but…” 

I trailed off, unable to express how strongly I felt this need– to bear a child of ours in happiness and peace. I could live without it, in the same way that I could live without….without ever going to medical school…but in just the same way, I wanted it. And it mattered.

Jamie could see something of this in my face. He was quiet for a moment, then took my hand and squeezed. “When the next bairn comes, then,” he said, and though there was still a quiver of fear in the sound, he was smiling, “whenever it comes, I’ll no’ leave your side. Not for a moment.”

I knew any hospital would do their best to dissuade him, to keep the father away from the operating room or delivery suite. I’d bloody like to see them try.

He bent his head and kissed me, very gently, cradling my head in his hands. He broke the kiss with a small laugh, beaming. “Another bairn…when my heart is already full to bursting… Jesus, will this embarrassment of riches never stop?”  

“No,” I said, beaming back. “At least, I certainly hope not.”

Jamie turned the page of the album. “Oh, just look at her, then,” he said, lightly touching the paper that showed Bree, two or three weeks old, yawning hugely on my lap. “So tiny… and such a bonny, sweet face.”  

Every photo, captioned only with a date, captured a moment in Brianna’s life.

(December, 1948). At six weeks, on her christening day, gawping skeptically up at Father Gentry.

(February, 1949). At three months, sleeping peacefully in her crib, curled up against her stuffed rabbit.

(September, 1949). At ten months, taking wobbly steps toward the camera.

(November 23, 1949). Covered with the icing of her first birthday cake.

(March, 1950). On my lap, the both of us careening down a hill on a sled toward Mrs. Byrd.

(June, 1950). Snuggled against my shoulder, half-asleep, one fist grasping my hair as I stroked hers.

Without warning, Jamie stood up and walked out of the room. I didn’t have to ask what he was doing.

Less than a minute later, he returned, holding a pajamaed Bree against his shoulder. She was still waking up, and was grumbling vague, fretful interrogatories, her curls a frenzied pouf around her face.

Whisht,” Jamie shushed softly against her hair. “Go back to sleep, lass. Whisht, now.”

Hab-beffist?” she asked croakily, rubbing her eyes.

“Nay, it’s no’ yet time to have breakfast, a chuisle,” Jamie said, his own voice rather hoarse as he sat, Bree on his belly, facing him. He tightened his arms under her, smiling, but blinking hard. “Da just…needed to hold his wee bairn, s’all.”

Beebair?” she said, straightening and looking intently back at him.

“Aye, that’s right,” he said, as he kissed her tenderly and lightly cupped her face, “you, sweet one, are my own wee bairn.”

A look of glee suddenly stole over her sleepy features. She screwed up her brows fiercely, waved both hands, and growled out a tiny, “rrrrroahhhh!”

“Oh–OH MY–” I laughed, “there’s a scary, ‘wee BEAR’ in here, Jamie!”

Jamie shook with laughter too, but played along, rearing back in mock fear, “Stay ye BACK, foul beastie!”

Bree, triumphant, gave another roar which turned seamlessly into a mighty yawn, her would-be paws coming up to rub her eyes again.

Jamie stilled and brought his arms around her, voice low and soft with love. “Come lay your head, now, sleepy cub.” He turned to lay on his back. She resisted for a moment, trying to push up with her hands, but Jamie’s soft Gaelic and gentle touch brought her at last to settle against his chest. Jamie held out a hand to me, and while the sofa was scarcely wide enough, I curled against him, holding them both.

When I woke a few hours later, the dawn light as good as any alarm clock, I had a screaming spasm in my neck and my back was sore. But Jamie and Bree were still sleeping peacefully, she tucked protectively between him and the back cushions, her round cheek smushed against his shoulder. Jamie felt unusually warm to the touch, but I still pulled the afghan from the back of the sofa and tucked it around them. Turning to head for the shower, I paused at sight of the album on the coffee table.

I went to the hallway where my beach bag still sat, and rifled in it until I drew out the camera. The shutter made a satisfying flackk as I captured the scene.

(July, 1950).


Keep reading with the next chapter

anonymous asked:

imagine jean having a "that doesn't mean i wouldn't blow you" moment with jeremy during his early-ish days at USC. he's still going through his angry stage, and he's not really sure how he feels about jeremy except for the fact that he thinks jeremy is gorgeous and catches his attention a lot more than he'd like to admit

OH MY GOD. Bless you anon this is beautiful and perfect. Because like Jean would be SO ANGRY that this man exists, and he’s just so positive and everything that Jean can’t connect with Exy, but he’s also just so? Pretty?

So one night at a party the Trojans are all varying levels of drunk. Jean is standing in the corner moping and nursing a beer that he doesn’t even like.

And he’s watching Jeremy dancing and looking so happy and Jean just wants to rush over to him and kiss him or dance with him or…anything really.

And that’s so terrifying, because he’s never actually WANTED to be with someone before.

Come to think of it, he’s never truly wanted anything before it all. He’s never let himself.

But Jeremy comes over and asks him to dance. Jean refuses, which makes Jeremy pout.

“I’m trying. Do we really irritate you so much?”

And since Jean’s relaxed from the alcohol, but not drunk, he murmurs “You’d be less irritating if you stopped making me want to kiss you. It’s distracting.”

Jeremy looks frozen. “You want to kiss me?”

Heat floods Jean’s face. “You heard nothing. I said nothing.”

A smile spreads over Jeremy’s face. “You want to kiss me?”

“I hate you.”

“Just come dance with me.”

And Jean does the stupidest thing in his life by grabbing Jeremy’s hand.

By the end of the night, Jean’s wish to kiss Jeremy has been granted.

Happy Birthday, David Duchovny!


First of all, I’d like to wish him a lot of happines, luck and all the best. Wonderful actor, awesome singer, great writer and handsome man. And I just want to thank him for his existence. God bless this man. Thank you, David, for making me feel the whole bunch of emotions while watching your movie or reading your book. I just can’t tell how much I love him.

Scribbled On Details

DESCRIPTION: soulmate!Jungkook x Reader,

 fluff-ish, mention of vmin because I am actual trash 

WORD COUNT: 1.1 K

A/N: this is based off of this post I came across one day, it’s too cute to not write about, & I live for soulmate!BTS :-) I hope you all enjoy this! Lemme know what you think & send in requests plz because I’m uncreative ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Originally posted by jibeom

Ever since he was little, Jungkook looked forward to his marks. They’d show up at random times, varying from little scribbles, as if someone was trying to get their pen to work, to little doodles of a bundle of flowers or a cluster of stars. He loved them, even at his current age of 19, he loved knowing that his soulmate, his person, was the type to draw on themselves, he found it cute.

He’d spend all his time watching the marks appear into his skin, only to watch them eventually fade away. He never wrote anything back, scared to face the reality. What if he already knew you? What if you guys didn’t get along? What if you were too far away that the chances of ever meeting were close to none? He couldn’t handle it. He was content with watching his person, mark his skin with cute drawing of whatever interested them that day.

You were worried. You never got anything from your soulmate, aside from a quick squiggle now and then, but nothing that made you think your soulmate was truly interested in finding out who you were. All your friends would sit around and talk about their marks, about how their soulmates would leave cute drawings or messages for them to read later. You were jealous, you had brought it up to your mom once in a while, but she’d brush it off like nothing.

“(y/n), you can’t go worrying yourself about these types of things! You’re young! You’ve got all the time in the world to find them!” You wanted to believe it, you really did. You wanted to be able to think that maybe they just weren’t like that, some people hated to have ink embedded into them, even if it was only temporary, but you just couldn’t be sure.

Jungkook felt bad. He so badly wanted to take a pen and simply write, “Hi, I’m Jungkook. I’m your soulmate.” But he could never bring himself to do it.

“They probably hate you.” Taehyung said, poking Jungkook with a pen. Jungkook glared.

“Shut up Tae, they can’t hate me, I’m their soulmate.”

“Hey man, all I’m saying is, you’ve never attempted to let them know you exist, if I was your soulmate, I’d be pretty pissed.”

“Look, Taehyung, not everyone can be blessed with knowing their soulmate from the age of 4, leave me alone.” Taehyung sighed and put his pen down, walking over to his friend.

“It’s scary, I know. Every time I write to Jimin, I get scared. I’m always worried that he’ll say it’s just too difficult, that it’s too hard, or God forbid that it just stops all together. But, you gotta take the chance. This person is your soulmate. Let them know you’re here, and you’re listening, or watching rather.” He sighed. Jungkook knew Taehyung was right, he wanted to let you know that he was there, that all he thought about was you. What you were doing, who you were with, what you were going to grace his skin with that day. But he was just too afraid.

One day, Jungkook was sitting on his couch watching TV, when words started to appear. 1247 Elton Street @ 2:30. He recognized the address as the old coffee shop downtown, having spent many times down there with Taehyung and Jimin when he would come for a visit. They were there. They were close. The person the universe had given him was twenty minutes away, and Jungkook didn’t know how to react. He stood in his living room staring at his arm, making sure he had read it right. Taehyung walked in, noticing his roommate.

“Kook? You okay?” Taehyung walked over to his friend, looking over to his arm.

“This is the coffee shop downtown. Jungkook, did you write this?” Jungkook only shook his head, too frozen to say actual words.

“KOOK! They’re here! They’re downtown! Go find them!” Taehyung was living, happy that his best friend was finally going to be able to meet his soulmate.

“Here, take my keys! Take my car and drive to the shop! Take a pen too! Ohmygod I’m so hap-“ Jungkook sighed.

“Tae, I can’t. What if she’s going to meet a date? I can’t ruin that for her!” Taehyung went  wide-eyed.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Jungkook you’re her SOULMATE, you trump literally everyone she will ever date! This is an amazing opportunity; I can’t believe you’re thinking about passing this up! The whole ‘I’m scared’ bullshit is ridiculous, you need to grow some balls and find this person and be with them. Not many people find their soulmates this young, and you’re lucky enough to have yours be twenty minutes away! I’m only saying this once, and then I’m going to kick your ass. GO. TO. HER.” Taehyung shoved his keys into Jungkook’s hands, along with a pen.

“Go.” Jungkook looked at his friend, and took the keys, and the pen. It was time to face his fears and go and find his girl. He slipped on his shoes, and ran to the door, but not before hearing Tae’s last piece of advice.

“PLEASE, don’t fuck this up!”

By far the longest twenty minutes of Jungkook’s life. The whole drive, he was wondering what the fuck he was actually about to do. He pulled up into the parking lot at 2:15, so he had a little bit of a wait before you showed up. He was so nervous; he could feel his hands getting sweaty as he gripped the wheel. At 2:28, he decided that he should go in a grab a table.

The shop was quiet, as usual. Not many people occupying the tables around him. He had sat in a table near the back of the shop, so he could watch the people walk in without being seen. At 2:30, he heart began to beat fast. Any minute now, she would walk in, and Jungkook would finally set eyes on the girl the universe destined him to be with.

Then, the most beautiful girl Jungkook has ever seen, walked through the door. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but by God if she was he soulmate, he had been blessed by whoever was up there. 
She looked around, and then pulled out a pen, scribing on her hand, as she walked to the line to get a coffee. Jungkook looked down, just as the words started to appear.

Here?

Jungkook was reeling. This gorgeous girl was his, and he couldn’t help but mentally kick himself for waiting so long to find you. He stood up and walked behind you, careful not to make a sound, as he wanted it to be a surprise. He pulled out his own and began to write words of his own. 

found you.

He watched as the girl turned around, only to meet his gleaming brown eyes and his grinning face.
“Hi, I’m Jungkook. I’m your soulmate.”

A/N: Me: wishes jk was my soulmate :( I hoped you guys liked this! I’m actually quite happy with how it turned out! Remember to follow and request some stuff! Also, i may write drabbles for this, if people ask for them ;)

The sunnah taught Muslims to imitate the way Muhammad spoke, ate, loved, washed, and worshipped, so that in the smallest details of their daily existence, they reproduced his life on earth in hope that they would acquire his internal disposition of total surrender to God
—  Muhammad by Karen Armstrong

one man. one movie. one character. one dream. somewhere in california jeremy renner cries in his room. finally. his life is complete. every moment of his acting career was leading to this. he kneels before the gods and says thank you. his mortal flesh has been blessed at last. the powerful thighs of scarlett will grip his neck harder than the grip she has on his life. before he ascends into another plan of existence, moulin rouge’s come what may plays in the background. jeremy renner’s spirit is free.

take care of yourself, just carry the whole world ; ruvic

I blame @egocentrifuge and the Adam adopting cats talk in group chat; so there was that and then suddenly I birthed this seven thousand word monster. 

(Sometimes it takes knowing you’re not alone for things to finally be alright. content warning: adam’s emotional funks again, a lot of internal thought but! ends on a good note I promise <3 let me know if I need to add any other warnings) if u see glaring erros let me know i write this in one sitting on no sleep its 9:30am im gonna die jfc

—-

Adam ends up in the kitchen at half past three in the morning making hot chocolate, boiling water and stirring in the powder when it’s done, lets the cracked mug sit on the counter and cool off while he paces around a bit.

Keep reading

“I Thank God For You” - Derek Luh Imagine

‘And?’ Derek, who was standing in front of our bathroom waiting for me with his back leaned against the wall, asked when I got out. 

‘Nothing..It’s negative again.’ My voice cracked as I burst into tears. 

‘Hey, baby..shhh, don’t cry, please.’ He said as he pulled me to him wrapping his arms around me and placing a kiss on top of my head. 

‘But I really believed that we did it this time.’ I cried  uncontrollably. 

‘I know, baby and I’m so sorry.’ He sighed. 

Derek and I have been trying for a while now to make/have a baby because we feel, even though some people might think that we’re still too young, we feel like we’re ready and we really want a baby, but for some reason every time we try to, we fail and it has become really hard to face the fact that for some reason I can’t be pregnant. It makes me feel so bad about myself because I know how much both of us want a baby. 

‘I’m so sorry that I can’t give you a baby, Derek..I’m so sorry. I’ll understand if you wanna break up, I’d leave myself too if I could.’ 

‘What?’ He said as he cupped my face and made me look at him. ‘What’re you talking about? I’d never, in a million years, ever leave you, especially not because of this.’ 

‘But I just feel so bad because I feel like I can’t make you happy and that’s killing me.’ 

‘Don’t think that because..look, it would be awesome to have a baby and take care of some little human being, but if we’re not meant to have one, that’s okay too because we have each other and we love each oher to death. I don’t want you to think that I’ll be less happy or not happy at all if we can’t have a baby because that’s not true. You, by just existing and being you, make me the happiest man in the world and I can’t find words to tell you how much I’m blessed to have you. I thank God every day that I have you by my side because I wouldn’t want anyone else but you.’ He said making my heart melt. ‘And don’t forget that there’s so many other ways to have a baby. I know how much you want to be a mom and I promise you that we’ll find our way, okay?’ I smiled and pressed my lips against his and kissed him.

Ok, I haven’t done a blog post like this in a minute but DONALD HAS RESURFACED FROM WHATEVER CAVE HE’S BEEN HIDING IN AND HE CAME BACK WITH A MANLY MOUNTAIN MAN BEARD AND I AM IN LOVE ALL OVER AGAIN. Ok, who else was watching that Conan interview like 

because this was literally me the entire time. Seriously. I had my hands under my chin and I could FEEL my face grinning. The ONLY time I stopped grinning was when he brought up that dang coyote and I thought for a split second, “Oh my God, Donald, don’t die”. Then he went on to joke about his brother not wanting to have sex with a coyote and it was back to my Lisa face. Oh my goodness, I cannot explain how happy I feel seeing Donald tonight. I’m so happy he looks happy. I’m so happy he’s in movies. I’m so happy he exists. I am the only person gleefully giggled when he walked out or……? Like…..the man just gets more and more handsome. I can’t take it. Jesus, you have done a fine job creating this blessing of a man. Glory be to the lord for Donald McKinley Glover.

I pray Gambino Girls everywhere get to see his appearance on Conan.

OH!!! AND WE NEED TO DISCUSS THE FACT THAT SOMEONE THREW A BAR OF SOAP AT HIM.

One of the things I like the most about Sam Wilson is that he sort of teaches Steve to slow down a little. He doesn’t really get that from anyone else- from the moment he comes out of the ice, he’s Cap, and everyone is making him go, go, go, and he does.

But Sam is just so… settled. He’s still got some baggage, and he’s still adjusting, but he’s taking it easy. He’s settling into a routine, into a place where he’s comfortable, and that’s something that Steve doesn’t see from like, any other person. 

Sam is funny and sweet and domestic, and I dig that, man. He lets Steve and Natasha into his house while they’re on the run and just, offers them breakfast, like this is a normal Wednesday morning for him. He works his day job, he goes for a run in the morning, and he works through it.  And it’s such a good example for Steve, who’s just expected to go without stopping. 

So what happens when he can stop?

I think that’s part of where Sam comes in. He shows Steve that you can work through your shit, you can push through the trouble, and you can just breathe for a little while. He’s the kind of guy that takes things one day at a time- one day, he’s running the Mall with Captain America, and a week later, he’s fighting beside him in a takedown of massive Hydra powers. Next thing, he’s volunteering to go on a global chase for a violently programmed brainwashed assassin (who tried to kill him and his friends, no less) and is jumping in with the Avengers. That’s something. 

Sam Wilson is the breath of fresh air that Steve Rogers needs, and I am 110% thankful that he exists. He takes care of Steve in a way that no one else really does. He’s looking out for the man who never looks out for himself and is always too busy worrying about everyone else, and more than anything, Steve needs that.

TL;DR- God bless Sam Wilson

shawn michaels is the light of the holy lord in a simple man. i bet he can revive dead orphan puppies with just a look. drake writes songs about the heart break shawn michaels has caused him. dear lord. how does such a man exist. god broke his own hands crafting such a thing. shawn michaels has all his create a character attribute points maxed the fuck out. god himself strengthened mrs michaels, that she might be able to even hold such a gift. my eyes have been blessed with such a man. god bless. god bless.