i need coffee like i need air

anonymous asked:

"listen i know i can’t just show up at your apartment at six in the morning but i need coffee and no one makes it like you do" OR "we broke up after i left and moved away and months later i find out you rushed to the airport to stop me but you were too late" with Percabeth?

There are a lot of things Percy expects to see at six in the morning outside his place in New Athens. Campers who are in trouble. Campers who aren’t in trouble, but are being little shits. Lost gods that he can slam the door on. Maybe even his brother, whose sense of timing after spending time on the bottom of the ocean isn’t always great.

Annabeth Chase?

He’s not sure anything could have prepared him for Annabeth Chase.

Riptide is in his hand and ready to be uncapped before either of them say anything, his senses on red alert because the only reason his ex-girlfriend would be standing in front of him right now is if some sort of terrible disaster had struck the town.

Her hand snaps out, gently pressing his wrist down. The touch of skin on skin is like fire through his veins, and just for a second, Percy forgets how to breathe.

“No!” Her face is pink in the hazy dawn light. “No I - ugh, sorry, there’s nothing wrong. This was a bad idea, I should - I’m going.”

“Wait–” He takes a stumbling half-step towards her, just barely suppressing the urge to reach for her. The memory of her hand on his wrist still throbs, and he’s pretty sure it’s not something either of them want to repeat. “What - uh, how can I help? Did you need help? What do you need?”

The awkwardness hangs so thing in the air, they practically have to chew through it to speak. Annabeth looks briefly like she’s considering not even trying, before her shoulders slump. She rubs the back of her neck, looking up at the sky, and that’s when Percy notices the dark circles under them.

“Coffee,” she sighs. “I might have been up all night working on some plans, and I really need to get them done, and then I’ve got knifework with the campers later and I really don’t want to accidentally stab them. Plus I’m pretty sure that Chiron wants to meet with me about incorporating some different habitats into our next expansion and I wanted to draft up some ideas for that and–”

Once upon a time, he probably would have put his hand over her mouth and dragged her inside.

Once upon a time, he might have calmed her down with a kiss instead of his hand.

Right now, all he can really do is stand there, half-amused, half-concerned (all affection), waiting patiently for it all to come out. She finishes with something about needing to call her dad, and her face is definitely bright red now. For a moment (and it’s not the first moment), Percy forgets all about the fights and the screaming, the endless nightmares caught between them.

For a moment, he loves Annabeth Chase and it’s enough.

“I can do coffee,” he says, leaning against the doorframe with a grin. “If you cancel that meeting with Chiron and give yourself a break.”

The moment stretches as she blinks at him, turning that over in her mind. Once upon a time, it would have gotten him a laugh and a smack on the shoulder, a begrudging agreement as they both wandered inside.

Annabeth frowns, and the moment shatters. “I don’t need you to baby me, Percy,” she says tightly. “I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions.”

Irritation flares in his chest. “I know you’re an adult, I’m just worried–”

“How about you worry about yourself and your little excursions into monster territory, and leave my coping mechanisms to me?”

They stare at each other. The irritation twists into something darker, and it’s only those little excursions, the main outlet for the rage that burns inside him, that keep him from exploding in her face.

“Do you want coffee or not?” he asks finally. He sounds like a dead thing.

“I’ll get some at camp,” she says, and is gone before either one of them can start yelling.

darcy & tony [1/3]

title: silver spoon (honey, try platinum)
series: daughter dearest
category: mcu; thor/captain america/avengers/iron man
genre: family/humor/drama
ship: darcy & tony
rating: pg-13
word count: 5,165
series summary: A collection of short stories involving Darcy as the daughter of an Avenger.
story summary: “Making something and raising someone are very different things, honey.” // Tony Stark becomes a father at nineteen. And his life is never quite the same after that.

read: [ao3]




Tony repeats it to himself three times over, trying to meld the idea with reality.

“Pregnant.” He nods, fiddling with a wrench.

DUM-E whirs behind him, swinging its arm at nothing in particular, but, for all intents and purposes, looking as confused and worried as Tony is on the inside.

“All right. Calm down. We can handle this.”

DUM-E’s arm drops dramatically and Tony rolls his eyes. “Don’t take that tone with me. You’re about to be a big brother. Act like it.”

DUM-E perks up, but then wheels away quickly.

“Oh, ha-ha, real funny. You can’t run from this kind of responsibility…” He scowls, banging his wrench down on the desk in front of him. With a sigh, he places his hands down and closes his eyes.


Keep reading

I need you like an insomniac needs black coffee with three extra espresso shots at 6am.
I want you like an alcoholic wants 12 glasses of wine in one single sitting.
I crave you like one craves summer after 6 months of unbearable winter.
I long for you like I long for air after jumping off of the poolside and taking forever to float back up;
long for the taste of your lips, pressed against mine, to feel the warm electricity of your body plunging from you, onto me; captivating, paralyzing me in the moment.
Loving you is like trying to explain what water tastes like; trying to teach a blind person what the color blue looks like…
Loving you is simply indescribable.
There’s no way to explain how much I WANT you, how much I NEED you,  how much I CRAVE you… no string of words is deserving enough of you.
This feeling, it’s like cold coffee in the morning, and late night drives, and everything wonderful all packed together into one, and even then, it’s never enough to describe the feeling of love.
What I feel for you is deep, bone chilling, chest heaving, head over heels, LOVE.
More breathtaking than anything I’ve ever felt before.
—  Who knew something so lovely could be so painful
The Accident: Part Two

- Requested - I warn you it’s pretty sad, so if you can’t deal with things like that please do not read - 


Contingent days of sitting in the unnerving silence was a different kind of pain. It hurt all the same but this was more pure and psychologically based, I refused to move, I refused to eat and chose to spend my days looking at the blank wall where I played it all back. 

Everything felt wrong still, the unnerving feeling hadn’t disappeared, instead it loomed over me as I tried to get up everyday making it twice as hard to even think about my feet touching the cold wooden floorboards. At night he wasn’t there to hold me close, kiss my forehead when I woke up from a nightmare or to hold onto if I were cold. He had remained a shadow that slept by my side, an empty feeling that I wanted gone. 

My attempts to call him were over, my brother took my phone away to just stop hearing my sobs to a voicemail that will never be heard or returned. Instead I just sat there, it was lifeless, worse than being in that hospital room. I get told daily updates from my brother as I sit or lie still in my bed, our bed. He tells me about the weather outside, about anything funny he’s seen or when he will make me something to eat- no mention of his name or anything to do with his life, he saw it as a trigger and I knew from the glazed look in his eyes. 

Every night since I came home after waking up from yet another nightmare without him to comfort me I would go to the window and admire the stars. The most prominent thought was always about him, whether he too was looking at the moon and thinking of me like I did to him. He used to call the freckles on my face little stars that make my smile shine brighter than the moon in winter, and I would call him the beaming sun due to the pure amount of joy he would bring. But that’s not the case anymore, I’m stuck without the sunlight to brighten up my life, trapped in this permanent darkness. 

A whole month after my recovery period, four months in total of silence had passed. Things had gotten slightly easier, I got up in the mornings and joined my brother for breakfast, we spoke about the weather and his plans for the day - still not talking about him. I would zone out when I saw pictures of us on holidays, his drumsticks in the basement or the odd wrist band on the furniture. But slowly these things were easier to see, they reminded me that I too needed to get better, if he can put himself through hell then I can do this. 

Eventually I wandered outside, firstly I went into the garden and let the soft chill in the air attack my skin and cause goosebumps to form, the good kind. I smelt the autumn flowers and played in the rich orange leaves that fell from the neighbours tree. Then I went for a coffee with my best friend, I walked more to help with my leg and my ribs, I needed this. I needed to live again. 

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, the amount of worry that followed when I got a phone call from an unknown number one evening whilst watching a film. Answering all I could hear was heavy breathing, I knew that sound from those nights after he got back from tour where we could be ourselves, together. I knew it from the laughing fits we had or the aftermath of playing his heart out. My mouth went dry, words didn’t form and my mind wouldn’t function. Opening my mouth I tried to form his name, speak it no matter how hard the tears fell from my eyes yet it was no good. A croak escaped me and as soon as it did I was back to being the fragile state I was when I found his letter, mumbling words to myself in some form of comfort. 

My brother found the phone in my hand when I woke up, my face stained with tears and I struggled to remember what had happened until I unclenched my fist to see the crumpled letter that was in my other hand. His words still affecting me as if I had read them for the first time, sitting upright I let out a shaky breath and wiped away the last of my tears, shaking my head. “I’m done.” 

Two words were enough for me, I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t spend my days in fear or confusion about our future together. He hadn’t spoken to me or anyone for four months and the sound of him breathing was enough to send me over the edge. I couldn’t wait, I couldn’t live like this and wonder for the rest of my life what if he came back or said something besides he was sorry. 

I may not have been toxic to him but I was a toxin to myself because of him. Picking up a bag from underneath my bed I began to put some things inside, essentials to last me a week or so. In the midst of packing my brother knocked on the door and froze as he saw the amount of mess I was creating but it didn’t stop me, he questioned me but with the lack of response he walked away. Lifting the bag I began to walk out of my room but glanced back before I turned the light off, eyeing all of the photographs and the blank wall that I spent too long picking apart. 

As I reached the doorway my brother stood there, his arms crossed and face torn. “Where are you going?” He asked raising an eyebrow, sighing I shuffled on the spot. 

“I’m going to visit mum for a while.” I spoke quietly, not wanting to say anything too boldly in case he questioned me more so. “Just look after the place will you? I need some time away from it all,” Looking around I pictured every memory that was made in each of these rooms. “it’s getting to me more as the days pass.” Giving him a tight hug I unlock the door, “I’ll be back soon, thank you for everything.” He nods in response as I close the door behind me and head to my new car, having to replace the entirely destroyed beloved car I used to own. 

Driving away I gripped onto the steering wheel, it took me awhile to get back into a car after the accident. A part of me was terrified it could happen again, that the bones that had only just healed would get shattered like glass, break like my heart did as I was left to pick up the pieces alone. The drive back home was only a couple of hours long, drives like these allowed me to think, reflect on everything that had gone on in these past few months. My parents knew there were issues, they were supportive and hence why my brother stayed with me throughout this period, he was always my rock to lean on when I was growing up. 

Arriving outside my mum walked out and squeezed me tightly, “Yep my ribs have just healed so go ahead and break them again eh mum?” I joked and she pulled away, taking a good look at my disheveled state.  

“A good meal ought to do you some good, come on inside.” She began to tell me all about the things everyone has been up to, how my cousin had gotten the job he was after for a while or how my uncle spilt red paint all over his white rug when re-decorating. 

This is what I needed, an element of normality in my life and I knew it would easily be restored at home. Here I was just me, I wasn’t known as having a breakdown or suffering from that accident. I could be myself, the self I needed to rekindle with. Family time was essential, I was able to laugh without feeling guilty as I saw his photo in the background or sing without hearing him join in. Things we would always do as a pair had now become a solo act, and I was okay with it. 

At least I thought I was. 

Tuesday morning, not the sort of day I wanted to start with my parents yelling my name in need, a sense of urgency as they drew my name out like that. The way they did when I was growing up and wondered if I had run away from home or had a guy in my room with me, or that something bad had happened. Hearing them call for the fifth time I pushed the duvet off of my body and slipped out of bed and walked to the landing and glanced downstairs to see them both pacing and muttering things to each other. 

Hovering at the top of the stairs I wrapped my dressing gown tightly around myself for warmth and their heads turned to face me, a look of fear hidden within their expressions. Anxiously I walked down the stairs, my heart now in my throat. “What’s wrong?” I asked trying to keep calm, have logical thinking about this, it could be anything, anything. Don’t think it’s the worst, don’t think it’s him. 

My mum exchanged a look with my dad and the two of them led me into the living room to sit on a sofa. Eyes wide with worry this was bad, any logical thought that I had was gone, it had been banished as the last time they did this to me they told me how my grandma had cancer. A soft hand was placed on my left shoulder as my dad kept his eyes on the rug beneath his feet. Looking to my mum she wore that sympathetic smile but confusion within her eyes. 

“Listen sweetheart,” Sign two that something bad has happened, not addressing me by my name, the attempt to sugarcoat this has begun. “we got a phone call half an hour ago from the Police.” I shifted but my parents calmed me down as my heartbeat took over every other sound, drowning everything else. “You aren’t in any trouble do not worry, it was about an incident that happened this morning.” She sighed and tore her eyes from mine. “A body was discovered near the beach, and they erm,” She was tearing up, the words were like poison that she couldn’t get out with ease, glancing to my dad my eyesight failed me as I blinked continuously, all he could do was nod. 

“They think it’s Ashton.” 

I can’t do this anymore. 

Part Three // Part Four // Part Five // Part Six (Final) 

I fell in love with a boy who carved
his name into my bones.
He laughed like the sun and
sometimes I forgot I needed to breathe,
because why would I need oxygen
when his lips were like air?

I met a girl
and her hair was soft like flower petals.
She was so sad, but she still tried
her hardest to make everyone smile
and I told my mother that I’d never
loved anyone
like I loved her.

I kissed a boy who skipped class
and created artwork in his coffee.
He always had a cigarette between his teeth
and I didn’t listen
when my best friend told me he was poisonous.

It’s been 15 years
and I keep making the same mistakes.
I give myself to ghosts
and eventually they disappear again,
leaving me with nothing
but empty places
inside myself.

—  a lesson on heartache
steam and syrup (1/30)

“Then love knew it was called love, and when I lifted my eyes to your name, suddenly your heart showed me my way.” || 30 day rare pairs challenge

(x) coffee shop au + corporate espionage au, darcy lewis x tony stark

Darcy had just gotten out of class, and was on her way to work when she got Jane’s texts, a flurry of messages that made people send annoyed looks in her direction at the continuous chiming of her phone.

Jane Foster, 1:56PM
Jane Foster, 1:57PM
Jane Foster, 1:57PM
Jane Foster, 1:57PM
Jane Foster, 1:58PM
Jane Foster, 1:58PM
Jane Foster, 1:58PM
Jane Foster, 1:59PM
Jane Foster, 1:59PM
Jane Foster, 1:59PM
Jane Foster, 2:00PM
Jane Foster, 2:00PM

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Would you ever think about doing a second part to the Sam x Reader drabble where the reader works at a cafe that Steve likes, and when she met Sam, he immediately had the biggest crush?

i was wondering if you were ever going to to a part two of the little fix where the reader is a waitress and Cap introduce her and Sam

[Cafe!Reader x Sam Wilson part 2 requests times a lot]

CafeWaitress!Reader x Sam Wilson Part 2 (Part 1 here)
Word Count: 1571
A/N: Yesssss of course I’ll write these nerds. Everytime I write Sam x Reader stuff it ends up the sweetest most fluffiest corny crap ever, so sorry if you hate that stuff, but SAMMMMM. I LOVE SAM! I LOVE SUGARY FLUFFY FIC SAM I CAN’T HELP IT!! I NEED IT LIKE I NEED AIR.

“Ahhh! I’ve almost finished my shift, Sam, I’m so sorry.” You send your date a shy apologetic look from under your lashes and Sam can’t really do anything but nod and swallow down the words he wants to blurt. He’s not entirely sure you would be appreciative of him yelling ’you look really cute today I want to kiss you right now’.

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Binan Koukou Chikyuu Bouei-bu LOVE! Game - The Daily Lives of En-chan and Atsushi


Keep reading

The Hunters’ Rose [chapter eight]

Banner made by the wonderful hot-topical-castiel.
Summary: A love story of second chances and changes.
Rating: Eventual NC-17
Pairing: Sam Winchester/Becky Rosen
There is a lot of stuff in this that will not make any sense at all if you have not read Under the Hood; Into the Heart. This story takes place approximately eight months after UTH’s epilogue.
Prologue, Chapter One
, Chapter Two
, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven

Keep reading

cakekin  asked:

Hey, cutie :D I hope you are having a fantastic autumn so far! You know that I love your art, so much, everything you make. So I was wondering, do you have any tips on getting inspiration on what to draw? :3 ( I've been kinda depressed lately and I've had no inspiration what so ever, but I really want to draw, because it always makes me feel better.... )

I saved answering this till I could have lots of time to answer it. This is all just my personal ritual for what I do- I hope it’s does something for you the way it does something for me.

Artist block is terrible and usually for me, it’s a twisted relationship. It’s not even so much that I get a block and then im upset. Usually something happens and that problem I can’t control manages to choke me off and take the only thing I really have. It’s disruptive and makes me anxious. I get depressed and I can’t draw. It’s my only language, my only vent and my only communication and I become unable to utilize it. And a vicious cycle starts of being unable to draw because I’m depressed and upset, and than being depressed because I can’t draw.

Depending on the severity, I may need a isolation and coffee. I prefer to wake up early on a day off if I can. Take a morning bath. Make sure I feel like I have the day to myself—-and then this is my process.

First thing I usually do is clean my work area. I turn off all unnatural light (I feel calmer with just sunlight if that makes sense) and things like game systems and electronics— TV and entertainment all need turned off.

Open windows. I get anxiety really easy when I feel like I’m not in a good place. So I want peace, fresh air, calm. Even my texts going off can make me feel like my skin is buzzing even though I love my friends. So my phone I put on do not disturb and then I turn off notifications.

This means I look at my messages at my own leisure. And I don’t feel the mental nudge of ‘my phone vibrated 4 times I need look’. ‘People need me. I need to do interact.’

You could skip this, but cleaning helps me. I mean, aside from making a space, I also organize it. Make my room clear, and I make my bed, throw a load of laundry in. Air out the place. It’s mentally relaxing to know you’re starting a process for yourself.

Music. I’m heavily influenced by music. It’s my personal taste, but I prefer to listen to acoustic and folk, delta blues, house, chill wave. Specially when I’m depressed. I need to feel a sort of center, and I lean toward soft things till I feel better. I also like things with a fun beat but soft voices.


There is also an AMAZING app called IndieShuffle that I absolutely love. And also Birp!

New music can direct a feeling or idea, which can help foster your creativity.


I look at other peoples work. This comes in different ways and different styles- and not always related to the fandom.

So I recommend one of two things. Either start going through your favorite artist blogs or just look for new artists.

It doesn’t have to be because you want to draw like them. Actually I usually just start feeling really excited- thinking about making something and thinking about enjoying that completed feeling, and how maybe this feeling I have will be passed on when someone sees what I will make!

I have a few blogs that are great for this. Most recently these are my favorites. Some are artists, others are blogs that consistently load artwork from artists maybe not in the tumblr artist community or that promote artists in and out of tumblr.


artcicles (sweetsweeps)

Those are just a few— but even just your own. I have so many. i try to follow as many artists in different styles as i can just for this purpose.

I usually get in the mood from that, admiring and submersing and I’ll see something I want to try and I’ll try and guess how I can do it. Even if it’s digital— what can I do to mimic that coloring—-

So for an example I did this routine and here’s what I found.

(a painting by James Jean )

What I did

What i listened to: Night Beds - You Were Afraid

(You can see the post for this HERE)

Another useful thing is having inspiration blogs. I like to follow rustic and forest blogs, personal blogs from people who are out there doing things i cant, taking pictures of things i want to see. Everyone i think follows a few of those, i follow alot.

Ok—- im so sorry, it took a few months for me to get the time to do this and i wanted to actually draw a thing for it to show the example and—- i never forgot, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR WAITING. And i hope in someway this helps.

Good Friday

I hadn’t really planned anything or envisaged more than I’d already completed for this trip but I was disappointed with some of the images as some were blurry and in others I looked like a dishevelled wreck. I’d also woken that day to an unexpectedly full feeling. I hadn’t really eaten correctly for another event and had been enjoying the trip doing normal things for a few days but there was definitely a large need for the loo and it put me back into mission mind set.

The weather was actually pretty reasonable for the UK in late March. From my lookout post the beach already seemed busy and more enticing like on the morning of a summer’s day with long mansions of shade cast across the sand by the cliffs. The whole thing had shorts poop written all over it.

I’d previously found some shorts that resembled the one’s that I remember my friend wore on her fateful day. They were composed of quite stretchy cotton with a ruffled high waist band. I chanced size 10’s as the reviews said buy a size down due to the stretch and ordered the creamy white colour although they’d been slightly dyed blue in a wash with blue jeans previously. I’ve also got them in pink and they’re cosy but I only wear them for poop missions, not for day to day use, bit too short.

With a chill in the air on the breeze still, I opted for thick tights and chose green underwear, again supported with cut, folded up tights. My morning coffee didn’t help matters; after some preliminary and horrendous gas the convulsions started so I knew I’d need to get going soon. Strangely the feeling of it was just about comfortably controllable but with a degree of fullness and repeated desperacy that I usually associate with large poops, like there was a dam holding back some looser stuff. After fighting back a few times the need usually goes away with smaller poops but that didn’t happen. It kept knocking so I got my stuff together and left.

I decided to drive to a nearby beach that I used to visit as a child with my family. Shaped like a crescent moon and expansive, it could offer good spacious anonymity and general beauty just for enjoyment. The large grass and gravel car park was already busy, like everyone had the same idea with the first taste of summer on good Friday; well not exactly the same idea. Can you imagine if everyone was on a private pants pooping mission, that would be so hilarious I’d probably wet myself. There’s a long rickety boardwalk down over the dunes snaking toward the beach and it was busy; people of all ages laughing and smiling after a long and tedious UK winter. 

At the intersection and steps down to the beach there was a café next to the toilets with people sitting on the benches outside chatting. After driving, the need to go had subdued slightly but was returning and I was put-putting a bit as I made my way down the steps carved into the cliff and onto the beach. The tide was on its way out and the local area was quite busy with people settling around the cliff edge and playing beach games. I walked for a while and took normal photos as the need started to take hold and then found a semi-private area where I could let a full wave dominate. It was suddenly stronger and less comfortable. I had to fully cross my legs and hope no one came around the large beach rocks into view. Lucky this time, no interruptions and I managed to resist but only just. It felt like the next wave could be the decider. After 20 minutes or so on the beach under the purest blue skies, easing winds and just a little wispy cloud I’d circled around the beach rocks and the surf line back to the steps. I didn’t really know where I was going to let this happen and thought about going straight on from where the toilets were at the top as the views looked good that way. 

Climbing the steps however started to stir another wave and there were even more people to negotiate. I had to slow my pace a little and walking was becoming more awkward with each step. I had the beach toilets as a backup in my mind so I could at least do it privately but at the top of the steps I was a little panicked to see a queue for the ladies. My heart started racing as I was probably within a minute or so of losing it and I was in a very public area now. I’d never been brave enough to lose control in a queue before. I’d witnessed a queue accident once; a lady possibly in her 30’s wearing jeans that were clearly bulgy and a little wet at a festival and she kept touching her bum. What a disastrous place for a pants poop clean up. 

I didn’t really have many other options as I’d be cemented to the spot soon trying to resist or I’d have to just let go somewhere close. Sheepishly approaching the queue I joined behind a woman and maybe her young daughter and further ahead some teenagers who were also in shorts, denim and Khaki by the looks of it and both braving bare legs. 

The same rush as the supermarket started to take hold and it seemed to make me a little bolder. I didn’t hold my bum or anything but had my legs crossed and was fidgety. My insides were now really churning. Someone came out but only one of the teenagers went in so it must have been a single toilet. Then someone joined behind me, which put my mind into total overload and panic. I had to try to act more normal and loosened my legs slightly. I only caught a glance of her but she looked my age, or maybe a little younger, pretty, not raunchy, and was wearing blue jeans and a grey short sleeved cardigan and through her sunglasses she was about to witness someone shitting herself. My battle was over and again I tried to stop thinking but it didn’t really work. I felt as nervous as before my finals at uni. After having loosened my legs there’s very little power left to resist and the full wave was now building way past the point of no return. Then it was happening. The poop started coming out with my feet still crossed but with loose thighs, semi-solid to begin with for maybe 5 seconds before an uncontrollable convulsion push suddenly sped it all up as I bent over against my will. It was much mushier and was coming out more quickly. It was totally audible and I could feel the warmth suddenly spreading everywhere as the awful smell hit. The main noisy push was over in three or four seconds and it was unexpectedly large for an unplanned poop. That’s EV olive oil for you. The lady in front looked around and with genuine concern asked if I wanted to go first. I was speechless and just stared at the floor slightly dazed with my hands on my stomach. Reality flooded back in and I just said I’m so sorry and left the queue and by then a few others including the teenager were looking at me. God knows what the girl behind thought who had to witness the full visual and smell. She must have told people about it.

I had to waddle off past everyone at the café and on the benches which were close enough for some people to seem unduly interested. I bowed my head in shame and marched back up towards the boardwalk and walked by many others on my way back to the car with a very red face. I couldn’t even subtly feel back there to assess the damage. It felt oily and warm but not liquid, just quite mobile against my skin. My hands were shaking still as I fumbled for my keys to open the car. I put a bin liner stashed for such occurrences on the seat and slowly climbed in, being careful when sitting down as I didn’t want any overflows. Yes it went everywhere and everything was getting in my way or causing issues; hair tangling on seat belt, handbag spilling on floor. I was flustered. There was a new level of odour in the car and I felt underneath a little, raising myself up slightly. It felt a little wet in places but not drippy wet thankfully as I’d managed not to wee myself somehow. I sat there for a moment in disbelief about what I’d done. The reality of it was scary. The little micro expressions you notice when people look. The shock or subtle, polite disgust; things I don’t accurately picture when visualising a scene before. 

Back in the town where I stayed, having been sitting down in the car which exacerbated the stain, I wasn’t as brave as supermarket day I’m afraid and tied a stashed cardigan around my waist even though I was wearing a leather jacket, which probably looked a bit suspicious. After a brief visit to the ladies to inspect things which were starting to stain, I enjoyed another walk on the beach and the tide was fully out so I could avoid people fairly well with the extra space. No leaks yet and rolled up tights to the rescue again. It was pretty much a dream pants poop situation and my mind was much calmer knowing I was well covered; less windy now, seagulls, sunshine, and carelessly walking along the surf edge. Unexpected days like this are what its all about as the plan can’t go wrong if you’re making it up as you go, but then it did a bit.

I went to a more secluded area of beach and without an actual obvious need to poop anymore decided to push hard. A sudden and unexpected wave of noisy semi-diarrhoea erupted. Not loads but enough to destabilise the situation. I immediately lowered myself with my arms on some rocks behind as I lost control of my bladder briefly too. Everything collected at the seat of my pants and I was leaking wee slightly onto the sand through my clothes. I had to stay there until the leak finished and also had to sort of push against it repeatedly so its consistency mixed together into something a little more walking friendly and that left one of my hands in such a gross state that I had to wash it in a rock pool. The cardigan wouldn’t cover all of this now as the front was also stained. The problem with this beach is that there aren’t that many escape routes unless you’re a mountaineer. I rushed a picture as there were dog walkers coming. The stain was ridiculous.

I had a less crowded route option back around the cliff but knew uphill walking would be disastrous for my boots as not even rolled up tights can defend against a wee poo. Also walking on dry heaped sand like that was awkward when you’re trying not to overstep anything and as the crowded area approached I pretended to search for something in my handbag which could cover my front up a bit. I also had to keep tightening the cardigan tied around my waist. If that had fallen off I may as well have given everyone a twirl. From the looks I got on the beach I’m sure people knew something was up. It was all made worse by being so close to leg leakage. After an eternity and much eye contact avoidance, I left the beach and eventually reached my apartment. 

I laughed when I looked in the mirror. The back of my shorts were totally brown. Even after a few washes since, they’re still noticeably stained. I took a picture as usual. Knowing it was nearing the end of the trip I tried other clothes on and had a fair few glasses of wine prolonging it and mulling it over, reliving the moments in the queue with real imagery and emotion. As arousing as the fantasy was before, actually living it out was a more scary rush than expected. I know its unlikely I’d ever see those people again but I feel bad for bringing them so closely into my mad, self-et-ish world. Like I used them. As far as public humiliation goes it was pretty bad and losing it in a queue was about as close as I’ll ever get to a real accident like my friends’. Once you’re a purposeful pants pooper, nothing’s really an accident and innocence is lost.

I still can’t help wondering what the girl behind me made of it. Happy pooping ☺

i can’t wait for the heat of this summer to pass away for good.
i need to see my breath in the mornings to free my clouded mind,
i need sweaters too long for my arms to give me something to hold onto,
and i need leaves that change, like they do each year without fault.
i need warm coffee, i need the smell of all the spices right before they’ve been mixed into the pumpkin pie.
i need candles and blankets and comfort
things summer can never do for me.
i need too-early Christmas commercials, i need kissing his cold lips, i need hand holding and teeth chattering and my favorite type of wind
that rustles your hair and bones, that just slightly rubs the tip of your nose red, the kind you have to half jog into the grocery store to escape.
i need the air that when i close my eyes and try to fill my lungs up, everything feels cold
and most of all
i need football games and scarves,
walking home after school and driving with the windows only slightly down.
i need layers and the memories autumn brings me.
i know fall means the end of the freedom of summer and the start of the trees becoming bare, but everything is so much better when the world is like that.
so please, please, autumn be on your way.
—  a.w


There are quite a lot of places people like to study - depending on how the person is feeling will change where they learn and focus more.

> Your local library - This is one of the most common study spaces, people tend to sit in a corner of a library with some music in their ears and get their work done without disruptions. The library is the best place for people to study who can’t focus at home due to the noise big families make or the atmosphere at home - the library is a great place to write down notes as it causes minimal/no noise.
> Study desk - Study desks are usually in your room or an office in the house. Most people prefer to work here because it saves their energy of having to walk or drive to a library or any other study place. Study desks work best for organised people (check out my recent post on how to keep organised) and people whom tend to talk to themselves when studying (…me) which means you can make as much noise that the library will prevent you from doing.
> Outside/ Porch/ Bench table in your local park or university - These study places work best for people who like the sound of nature which also is extremely relaxing and people whom like going outdoors and being active. Studying outside and breathing fresh air stimulates brain activity and the natural green relaxes the body. Although, if you are a huge nature lover, you may get distracted so I wouldn’t suggest this type of study space for you (:
> Coffee Shops - If you constantly need a refresh of coffee this is the place for you but you need to be able to focus due to the rush of coffee shops and to help I suggest listening to music but if you cant concentrate with music, I don’t think this is the best place for you to study. People who study best in coffee shops are people who are very energetic and dedicated to studying with lots of motivation.

Hope this helped! have a good Easter Sunday and good luck with your studies.
if you want advice on efficient way to revise, personal advice, anything is cool 😊

A heart to Hart

Just a little oneshot of a conversation between Katy/Riley. 
I might do a second part as @rileymfriar has put ideas in my head haha 

Katy Hart was double checking the inventory, making sure they had enough stock to last them before they were supplied with more. That Thursday night was quiet and things died down just after dinner time, allowing Katy to get all her cleaning and dishes done. She had just finished making sure everything was in sorted in the stockroom when she heard the bell go off indicating she had a customer. She wiped her hands on her apron and made her way to the front ready to greet the customer, however she stopped short when she saw that instead of a customer it was Riley, and she looked quite upset.


Riley sat down on the stuffed chair in the middle of the store and Katy watched as she wiped a tear from her eyes before folding her hands in her lap and looking down. Katy bites her lip before taking off her apron and waling to the door, turning the sign over and locking the door. She decides to close early that night and focus on the girl, thinking to herself that she needs someone more than a customer needs their coffee.

She sits down next to Riley, not wanting to push the girl but silently letting her know she was there. It takes five minutes for Katy to speak.

“I thought you would be at family game night.”

“I needed some air.” Riley says still looking at her lap and Katy nods, because she knows all about needing some air.

“I can go if you need to close up.” Riley whispers and Katy’s heart breaks when she hears her, almost like Riley thinks she is a burden. She takes Riley’s hand in hers and gives it a warm squeeze.

“Riley you are never a burden ok?”

Riley glances up at Katy and gives a small smile, the light not reaching her eyes.

“Ms Hart, do you ever feel sad that Maya always comes to my parents instead of you?”

Katy’s eyes widen at the question, not expecting Riley to ask that. But before she could answer Riley keeps going.

“Because I do, I feel sad for you because you try so hard yet Maya chooses someone else.”

The way Riley said it makes Katy realize that this isn’t about her and Maya but is in fact about Maya ad Riley.

And her heart breaks.

“Riley, I can’t blame Maya for going to your parents because for the longest time I wasn’t there and yes while I did it for Maya I can see why she would find it hard to confide in me, but I do wish that Maya would know that I am here now.”  

“Riley are you ok?” Katy finally asks even though she knows the young girl isn’t. Katy sees Riley’s lip wobble and a few tears fall.


That was the word it took for Katy to pull Riley into her arms, she has known Riley for as long as she could remember and she has never seen Riley break down. Like Riley was finally crashing under the weight of the world that she held on her shoulders.

Katy knew about the triangle, how Riley stepped back for her daughter to be happy, how Maya seemed to not notice the pain Riley was feeling, how Lucas was now in the middle of the two best friends and finally how it seemed that Lucas and Maya had grown closer during high school while Riley seemed to be left behind. Of course Katy heard all this through Farkle and Zay who were on the outside, so she wasn’t exactly sure what was going on in the very center of the triangle.

All she knew was Maya seemed a lot happier then Riley at the moment.

Riley lifts her head, her eyes red and sad.

“Why do I constantly feel like no one wants me around anymore?”

Katy pulls Riley closer, she never though the girl would admit something like that and now that she has she feels like a much bigger conversation is needed.


Riley shakes her head remembering the events over the last couple of weeks  

“Lucas told me I was too much, then I saw him and Maya laughing in the hallway the next day. My parents still don’t support me in wanting to join the cheerleading team and everyone is finding their place in high school and I am just stuck. I just wish that someone knew how much I needed them.”

Katy wanted to cry for the young girl, but held strong.

“Riley, I have dealt with heartbreak and friendship and parents, and I know it may seem like no one cares. But they do, and you have so many people who love you.”

Riley looks down at her lap, not believing a word Katy said. Katy said nothing after that, believing it will take more than a few words to make Riley believe again.

“Why don’t you help me with packing away the rest of the bakery and then I will walk you home”

Riley nods, wiping her cheeks and standing up along with Katy, but before Katy could move Riley whispered a soft thank you.

“I didn’t mean to come here, but it means a lot that you would listen to me considering Maya is your daughter.”

Katy pulls riley into one more hug, kissing Riley’s temple and feeling the young girl relax a little.

“Honey regardless of what is happening, I will support you both. I am always here Riley”

Riley smiles, a bit brighter than before, but dreading going back home. 

Taking care of you (M)

Inspired by what happened to Jaebum and his ankle injury. As an IGOT7 and Jaebum biased I was truly worried, but I’m so glad to see he recovered quite fast! I’ve had this idea for quite a while now, and wanted to develop it as soon as possible. I hope you’ll like it!

(Picture credits go to ppomoppang)

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I love Eileen so much! I need her like I need air!! Can she be in tons of episodes and be Sam's best friend and help on hunts and be the perfect wonderful amazing badass she is? GIVE ME ALL OF THE EILEEN!!

anon, you are so on my level, i love eileen!!! for further consideration let’s think about:

  • sam and eileen having coffee dates and doing research in cafés because eileen thinks sam doesn’t get out enough (dean agrees and practically shoves sam out the door)
  • eileen’s a great cook and teaches dean recipes she learned from her grandma; they make meals together in the bunker kitchen and dean learns some signing that way
  • when they go hunting together eileen sometimes calls shotgun and sam sits in the back
  • she does this mostly so that when dean starts acting like a dick she can reach over and change the radio station to something she knows he’ll hate (he can never figure out how she always knows)
  • sometimes sam forgets to take care of himself, especially when he’s focused on a hunt, so when they stop at diners eileen makes sure to order extra food and prods sam to eat it all
  • eileen is such a pro at killing every monster they come across: beheading vampires like it’s second nature; rolling her eyes at the ghost dramatically drifting toward her as she douses its corpse with gasoline and flips the lighter open; plugging werewolves with silver bullets like a trained marksman, etc.
  • she once has the rare privilege of driving the impala when both sam and dean get poisoned by a djinn hiding out in a warehouse somewhere – she bashes its brains in with a claw hammer, drags sam and dean out to the car, administers the antidote and singlehandedly gets them all out alive
  • when dean wakes up an hour later, groggy and drooling into the leather seat, he’s too impressed to even be upset about someone driving his car, just fumbles a thank you against his chin before passing out again
  • as tough as she is though, eileen’s vulnerable in a way that anyone who’s had reason to take up the hunting life is, and sometimes she wakes up at night with the echoes of screams she can’t hear ringing in her head
  • (she thinks it’s her mother, she tells sam once, curled up on the library couch at 3am, hollow-eyed and exhausted, and he signs that sometimes he still dreams of fire and smells burning flesh for hours afterwards)
  • sam and dean wind up needing eileen’s help to beat the darkness and she comes face-to-face with lucifer, who twists castiel’s face into a snarling imitation of a smile and mocks her deepest fears and insecurities – dead family, a life of isolation on the road, dedicating herself to revenge and purposeless without it, etc.
  • eileen just squares her shoulders, looks freaking satan in the eye and says, in a voice that hardly wobbles, “you should really enunciate. i can’t understand a word you’re saying.”
  • after they banish lucifer back to the cage, cas spends a while healing up in the bunker, and one night he runs into eileen making coffee in the kitchen and offers to restore her hearing
  • she smiles, touches his wrist and tells him thank you but no, because being deaf is part of who she is and always has been and she’s no less of a full person for it (cas files that away for further contemplation of the complexity of human thought and identity)
  • ALSO i have so many thoughts about eileen and charlie!!!! (because in this universe women don’t get killed to further the emotional development of male characters!!)
  • charlie knows some asl from that dark period of nine months after her parents’ car crash when she didn’t talk at all but needed a way to communicate with concerned foster families (mostly to tell them to fuck off, so she knows a lot of dirty signs)
  • eileen has never led a normal enough life to get into pop culture but charlie spends several days acquainting her with star wars, lord of the rings, harry potter, and gaming
  • eileen still doesn’t really get the appeal but humours her because she can’t get over how cute charlie is when she’s excited, the way her nose crinkles up and she bounces up and down a little, and how her smile makes eileen feel a bit like she’s floating
  • sam orchestrates everyone’s movements so that eileen and charlie are always bumping into each other in the bunker’s darkest corners (for example, by separately asking them to locate a dusty research volume in the same remote area of the library and smirking to himself when they’re still gone forty-five minutes later)

okay this kind of turned into a love letter to eileen and became less about sam (sorry!!) but let’s just think about everyone hanging out and being damaged but helping each other and finding some peace and happiness and support and, whether romantically or platonically, family.

Not only I want to know that Natalie lets Stiles visit Lydia when she’s in the hospital next ep, I WANT TO SEE IT.

I want Natalie to be in the room with Lydia when Stiles shows up (parallel to 5x11) and to let him stay this time, I want her to leave the room and say that she’s gonna get coffee or just wait outside and give him a minute to stay with her daughter (parallel to 5x14) as he pleases. I want him to give her that little smile he had in 5x16 when Lydia told him he saved her.

I need to know that when Lydia said ir, it made a difference to the older woman too.