i stayed up for this why am i doing

So I don’t know how, why or where but the wording of that spoiler about Ross makes me think he spots Aaron and Robert ‘making up for lost time’ *cough* having sex somewhere inappropriate *cough* and he decides to try a little blackmail because he’s an idiot.

It’s the wording used like 'spies’ (so he sees something) and 'little blackmail ( means it’s nothing serious). Am I reading too much into this? Because I really don’t think it has anything to do with the Rebecca stuff.

My life as an (unwilling) Music Major, summed up by The Right of Spring.

I have to be ready for music theory at 8 am, and am expected to analyze a five page music piece accurately.

I also have to take two theory classes, two choir classes, piano lesson, piano masterclass, and they wonder why I am not doing well in my required classes for a degree.

I have to stay late to go to a choir rehearsal that nobody except me and three other people have actually practiced for.

People continuously ask me to accompany them on pieces because I’m a piano major, and it never ends.

I am expected to practice piano for at least four hours. Four. Hours.


And then when I do have time to practice, the band kids have taken all of the rooms.

But, in the off chance I am actually able to find a room, someone always walks by and has to stare at me while I do. Every. Time.

And then if a teacher asks me what I do over the weekend, because I’m obviously not practicing, I just tell them the truth.

I died.

anonymous asked:

Hello, Hope you are doing fine. I'm trying to attract a love life and I was wondering what is a good approach using loa? Do you have any good affirmations? Thank you

Hi, I’d say set an intention for a great love life first. Then set smaller intentions that you believe can come soon so you can build up your successes in the process.

Figure out why you want a great love life, and have your why help you stay focused on a great love life in a positive way.

A good starting affirmation can be “I am im the process of attracting and allowing all that I need to be do or have in order to have a wonderful and great feeling love life in positive and healthy ways.”

Sometimes, often times, what you intend comes to you in differeny ways than you expected. So keep a positive focus on things related to the subject of a love life.

This could be a good place to start.

desiijackson  asked:

34, 35 and 39 :)

34.How late did you stay up last night and why?

I stayed up until like 7 am because I was busy doing work 😬 Paying for that shit now 😂

35.If you could move somewhere else, would you?

Yeah I would. I can’t choose where tho.

39.Three names you go by…

There’s five so I’m gonna name them all. There’s Indya, Indy, Indiana (I had a teacher who called me that for yearssss), Button, and Canelaaaaaa ☺️


Writer says: So I had this crazy idea one day and I just had to work on it. Here ya go!

Writer means: So I had this crazy idea either right before getting in the shower or right before falling asleep so I grabbed my fucking laptop and shat all over it to create the steaming pile of crap that I now lay before you. I don’t even know if it’s good anymore. I haven’t slept in two days.

Writer says: Wow, real life’s getting busy! Sorry on the slow updates.

Writer means: My life is a literal storm of shit at the moment. Why did I decide to do this. Why am I still doing this. Everything around me is spinning out of control and I am staying up ‘til 5:30 in the morning every night to create a piece of work that will only get two comments and 12 demands for quicker updates. I hope no one’s mad at me, all I wanted to do was write.

Writer says: Wow! Would you look at that! I updated on time! Please enjoy!


Writer says: This chapter was a toughie. Glad it’s finally done!

Writer means: I don’t know if this is good or not. I honestly don’t fucking know. I’ve read the same words over and over and over again and I just couldn’t look at it anymore. My beta said it was ok but I’m not confident but HOLY SHIT I JUST NEED TO STOP WRITING THIS FUCKIGN CHAPTER.

Writer says: Thanks for reading!

Writer means: Please, oh please oh please oh please leave me a review. A comment. Anything. Please tell me you’re out there. Please tell me someone is reading this.

Writer says: I just want to say that real life is getting pretty hectic right now. Please try to be patient with me, I know you guys want updates. Thanks! :)

Writer means: FUCK. YOU. Who the fuck do you think you are, demanding shit from me?! You don’t know my life! I have a very busy life! I create shit for free, you entitled son of a pig-fucker! STOP LEAVING ME COMMENTS TELLING ME TO UPDATE SOON OR I SWEAR TO GOD I’LL PUKE ALL OVER MY COMPUTER 

Writer says: What’s gonna happen next? Who knows? Hee hee ;)

Writer means: I have no fucking clue what the next chapter is going to look like. What’s my plot? I don’t know. I feel no emotion.

Writer says: Please leave a comment! It helps me write!

Writer means: I am begging you to leave me a comment because I swear it’s the only thing that’s keeping me motivated right now, I hate the work I put out and I need reassurance that people are actually enjoying this.

Writer says: I hope you enjoyed that chapter, big things are coming up! ;)

Writer means: Buckle up bitches, someone’s gonna die.

Writer says: I know I’ve missed a few updates, but I swear I plan on finishing this story! 

Writer means: *high pitched eternal screeching*

Writer says: Here we are at long last! This has been one wild ride. I want to thank you all so much for your support and love, I adore each and every one of you. I am so happy to say that this story has come to a wonderful close.

Writer means: My body is numb. Voices call out to me from the void, but I can no longer hear them over the beating of my racing heart. I am stressed to the point where I feel no relief. The story is done. It’s fucking DONE. I loved it, I hated it, it was a fucking storm of horror and pain. I can no longer see color. Now I can at last relax and…wait……wait a second………..holy shit I just thought of the best idea for a one-shot that’s totally gonna turn into a 50 chapter slow burn AU fic leT’S FUCKING DO THIS

  • <p> <b>me:</b> *wakes up*<p/><b>me:</b> wow, i sure am hungry<p/><b>me:</b> i better stay in bed for an hour longer and not do anything about it just in case though<p/><b>me one hour later:</b> why does my stomach hurt so bad<p/></p>



In this dark time of art block, I bring you…

Baby Reigen

Not even ageswap, just for whatever reason/by some accident he’s a little kid for awhile. Yeah. More to come probably.

I'm not a good person
Pat The Bunny
I'm not a good person

I’m not a good person.

Ask anyone who knows me.

I’m mean and bitter and a failure at everything that I say I believe.

I’m not a good person.

Ask anyone who loves me.

I never write, I never call, I never think about anyone at all.

I’m not a good person, no matter what I do.

My exhaustion will consume me and I’m too tired for the truth.

I’m not a good person.

I’m sure you’re not surprised.

It must be pouring out my sweat glands, it must be someplace in my eyes.

I don’t know why I am this way.

It’s been like this since I can remember.

I try to keep up with everything I know I should do, but then I fall to pieces anyway.

I don’t know why I am the way.

I’m not a good person, not even to you.

I’m staying home because I can’t stand the sound of another heartbeat in the room.

I’m not a good person.

Fuck it, you know it’s true

I’m lazy, I’m a coward, I’m asleep all day in my room.

I don’t know why I am this way.

It’s been like this since I can remember.

I try to keep up with everything I know I should do, but then I fall to pieces anyway.

I don’t know why I am this way.

Me: *Is in love with Taehyung. Wants to date Namjoon. Decides that the best match is Yoongi. Thinks that it’d be really adorable to have a boyfriend like Hoseok. Wishes to date Jin, So can cook him nice meals and have dinner dates. Google’s ways to keep up with Jungkook, wishing to date him. Jimin makes it real hard to stay loyal to the rest of them*

Me: *is a hoe for Bts*

I’ll be back to do some proper blog things in a few days, BUT UNTIL THEN, HAVE A FUN AND SAFE HOLIDAY YOU GUYS. 



First Impressions - Peter Parker (TH)

First Impressions - Peter Parker (TH)

Words: 1535 (yeah sorry I wasn’t planning on it being this long)

Warnings: None but I got major feels while writing so

Summary: You, an Avenger on Team Iron Man, go to help Tony recruit Peter for the fight in Germany.

A/N: I feel like everyone who writes Peter imagines has written one of these so I decided I would write one for what would happen if I went with Tony. It is still written in in second person. This may actually be my favourite imagine I’ve ever written and I think the worst bit is that I didn’t need to look up half the dialogue for this I just know the whole script hehe. I am going to do a Part 2 to this for the airport scene so stay tuned. Remember to send Peter imagine requests via asks. :)

“Remind me why I’m here?” You said as you stood in an elevator with Tony Stark next to you.

“Well, Y/N, seen as you are still a teenager your lack of experience and youth will come in handy.” Tony answered you briefly.

“I still don’t understand.” You were being rather blunt now.

“This kid needs to see that we need him and seen as we already have you on the team, he will see that even though he is still a kid, he will still be useful.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Good, or it might not work.” Tony flashed you a confident smile as the elevator stopped moving and the doors open.

You were going to protest again but Tony had already walked out of the elevator. You were aware the general plan for this, Tony’s grant cover and all of that. But you were still asking questions.

Tony had stopped outside one of the flat’s doors and you joined him.

“I don’t need to tell you to behave do I?” Tony said.

You rolled your eyes at him and he knocked on the door. Almost instantly a woman answered the door and Tony leapt into his classic Stark Charm. I was introduced as a colleague and I smiled politely from just behind Tony.

“Can we come in?” Tony said.

“Yes of course!” She said and opened the door wider for us to go in.

The flat was nice. Something you had never had because of being trained away from a home from quite a young age.

The woman motioned for us to take a seat on the couch and Tony did. You thought it’d be best if you left a space for her so she and Tony could talk properly. You took a seat on a chair that was nearby.

She was very hospitable and gave you drinks. Tony was introduced to walnut-date loaf for the first time which you thought was interesting to watch.

“So Mr Stark, how can I help you?” The woman, who you had learnt was called May, sat down next to Tony on the couch like you had wanted her to.

Tony proceeded with his ‘I am here to offer your nephew, Peter, a special grant’ speech, which went down quite well. She seemed surprised at first that she hadn’t been told about it by Peter, but how would she when it doesn’t really exist.

Tony then asked if we could talk with Peter and she said that he should be home from school any moment. You wondered how old this kid actually was.

You were sitting with you back to the door but you did hear a key in the lock and then it open.

“How was school today?” May called as Tony turned to wink at you.

“Okay.” A boy said, “There’s this crazy car parked outside.”

You scoffed internally at this kid’s appreciation for Tony’s preferred mode of transport. Not that you minded when you were in it though, expensive sports cars were kind of crazy.

The guy came to stand behind the couch and pulled head phone out of his ears.

Tony you have picked well. You thought studying him as the guys smile faltered a bit from confusion, but then it came back when he realised who was sitting in front of him.

“Oh Mr Parker.” Tony said nonchalantly. You just said there silently until you needed to make an appearance.

“What?… What are you doing… hey,um I’m Peter.” Okay you had to admit this guy was cute.

“Tony.” Tony said motioning to himself, “ And this is Y/N.”

You grinned at Peter from over in your chair as Peter noticed you for the first time.

“Hey…” He said as his smile widened.

“W-what are you doing here?” Peter said just about taking his eyes off you and looking back at Tony on the couch.

“About time we met. You get my emails right?” Tony winked noticeably at Peter as you just sat observing what was happening.

Peter somehow caught on that Tony was bluffing his way through this and helped him. May went on to ask Peter about how she didn’t know about the 'grant’ and Peter successfully bluffed his way out of it as well as Tony was doing. You were impressed.

“It’s so hard for me to believe she’s someone’s Aunt.” Tony said and you sighed and rolled your eyes again.

“Well we come in all shapes and sizes.” May justified and you caught Peter’s eye and raised your eyebrows. Peter’s smirk matching yours.

“5 minutes with him?” Tony asked pointing to Peter.


Tony got up and you followed Peter to his room. Once inside Tony locked the door. He then spat out the walnut-date loaf into Peter’s bin.

“As walnut-date loafs go, that wasn’t that bad.”

You watched as Peter watched Tony’s every move as if that would explain why Tony was here really. You sat down on the edge of Peter’s bed as Tony went on to examine the various pieces of tech Peter has out on his desk.

Tony continued to make conversation about nothing and you wondered when he was actually going to include you. You had dazed off a bit when Tony spoke to you.


“Hmm yeah?”

“Show Peter the videos.”

“Right.” You took out your hand tablet and projected the videos Tony had sent you earlier.

“A question of the rhetorical variety, that’s you right?” Tony said to Peter, as Peter watched what you were showing him.

“Uh, no.” Peter said defensively.

You had to admit that you were actually impressed. The guy wearing the red suit in the videos was pretty cool.

Tony wasn’t satisfied with that answer. He complimented Peter on his abilities as Peter tried to say that they were just videos off the internet, edited ones.

You noticed that there was a trap door on the ceiling. You saw a wooden pole balancing against the wall and guessed it was there to help open it. While the boys were occupied with their conversing, you took it and pushed it open. Something was going to fall down on you so you moved to the side as Peter realised what you were doing and grabbed it and pushed it into a box.

You turned to look at Tony smugly. Peter had leant up casually against the wall and folded his arms across his chest.

You turned to Peter and tried smiled warmly at him so he wouldn’t put his guard up. Tony had moved to stand next to you.

“So you’re the Spider-ling?” Tony said. Not a hint of sarcasm in his voice at all for once.

“Crime fighting Spider?” You pitched in whether it was necessary or not.

“Spider-boy?” Tony finished.

Peter pushed his weight off the wall but kept his arms crossed. “S- Spider-Man.”

“Not in that onesie your not.”

“It’s not a onesie.”

“Who else knows about this, Peter?” You asked him. Tony was going to end up backing Peter into a corner with this one. You could see why he wanted to bring someone along who was Peter’s age. Thinking about it, Peter did look exactly your age.

“No-one.” He said quietly.

“Not even your freakishly attractive Aunt?” Tony mumbled. You rolled your eyes. Tony was going to end up freaking this guy out before you recruited him.

“No no no, if she knew she would freak out and if she freaks out, I freak out.”

You sighed and Tony went to sit down next to Peter who was sitting on the bed.

“You ever been to Germany?” Tony said bluntly. Great you were just going to jump straight into this.


“Oh you’ll love it!”

“I can’t go to Germany!”

You stood in front of the two of them, arms crossed.

“Why?” You said.

Peter looked up at you, “I… I’ve got homework.”

You smirked at this.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” Tony said and it was his turn to roll his eyes.

Tony stood up and walked past you towards the door. “Might be dangerous. I’ll have to tell your Aunt…”

Tony reached for the door handle but Peter stood up quickly and shot a web at Tony’s hand stopping him. You stood next to Peter and admired his accuracy. This guy was definitely growing on you.

“Okay Spider-Man." You said and you saw Peter visibly stand up straighter. You grinned widely at him.

"Now get me out of this.” Tony said.

“Yeah sorry.” Peter gushed.

This was going to be fun.

Hope you enjoyed! Remember to request! :)

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 )


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

Why is it when I make a post talking about Islam, people start yammering on “Catholics did this too”, “Christians are the same”, etc..

I’m not talking about what Catholics/Christians did or didn’t do, I’m talking about Islam. The religion that I grew up in. The religion that told me I am worth half a man. The religion that told me I am forbidden to talk to men. The religion that told me I had to wear a hijab/niqab. The religion that told me I must obey my husband. The religion that told me I am cursed if I refuse to have sex with my husband. The religion that filled me with despair and depression. The religion that destroyed ever ounce of my self identity. The religion that made me feel as though my worth was only my hymen.

itstousledbird  asked:

Are you still doin the pre-relationship drabbles? 'One tracking the other down at lunch and making them accept food that they personally made because they know the other person doesn’t have a lunch that day.' with Bucky and reader, if you still accept requests. Stay awesome! :D

A/N: heck yeah I am. I didn’t actually expect to get any since I said it in the tags lol

Word Count: ~672

Warnings: None, all fluff all the time lol

Tags (If you want on a list, go here. If you want off, send me a message!)@shamvictoria11 @addictivewriter  @animexchocolate

Originally posted by natpekis

The paperwork was never-ending. Pile after pile of damage reports from clean-up, injury assessments from medical, and heaven forbid anyone actually sends the mission reports to the correct person for once. And why weren’t these reports digitized to begin with! Why do they need paper copies! Ugh. You were two seconds from either falling asleep at your desk or tearing your hair out at how much work you had left to do. Every day about this time you wondered why you took yourself off of field work, supposedly in favor of a less stressful occupation.

You honestly had half a mind to crawl back to the team and beg them for your old job back. Bullets over your head might be better than this. Hell, you’d take working in weapons maintenance over this mountain of reports. Maybe they’d let you back on part-time to cut the difference.

Two seconds away from setting your entire desk on fire, your door quietly clicked open with a pair of curious blue eyes peeking in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?” you asked cheerily and you were sure the relief was evident on your face. He chuckled upon entering, two containers tucked under his metal arm.

“I told you to call me Bucky already, Y/N. We’ve known each other for over a year now,” he said as he set the two containers on top of a smaller pile of paperwork. It was the finished pile, unfortunately. You gave him a cheeky smile and sat back in your chair.

“I know. Sometimes I just like calling you Sergeant and by sometimes, I mean almost all of the time. Now, what brings you to my horrible cave, Sergeant Barnes?”

He smiled, one of the rare times it actually reached his eyes. It usually only happened around you or Steve and only when it was one on one.

“I’m just bringing you lunch,” he explained. “You always complain about forgetting to eat at work, so I figured I’d take a chance and share some of mine.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest and you tried to fight the dorky smile spreading across your face to no avail. You pushed at the bottom one with your pen. “That’s sweet, Buck, but you don’t have to do that for me. I would’ve found my way to the take-out menus eventually.”

He scoffed and pushed them towards you gently and you ignored the papers sliding out of place. “You gotta eat, doll, might as well be something good and good for you. I swear if it wasn’t for me, you and Steve would be swimming in take-out boxes.”

You laughed, fully acknowledging how true that statement really was. You were still staying in your Avengers apartment for the time being as no one was that keen on kicking you out just yet. So, you often found yourself eating was Bucky made for dinner. He took care of you a lot, now that you thought about it. Ever since he joined the team he seemed to like doing a lot of things for you.

At first you chalked it up to him being gentlemanly but after this long you wondered if that was completely true. You shook the thought off, not wanting more reasons to have butterflies in your stomach around the handsome soldier. You tapped on the containers with your pen instead to divert the conversation.

“I can’t exactly eat this much by myself, Sergeant. This is kind of a super-soldier-sized lunch.”

“Well, I was hoping you’d let me take you up to the roof to help eat it. I haven’t eaten yet either and it’s a nice day out,” he proposed with a shy smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. Your eyes went a bit wide and you tried not to read too much into the proposition but you couldn’t help yourself.

“You, uh, you asking me out, Soldier?”

He smirked at your doe-eyed expression, seeing the hope in his chest echoed in your eyes.

“That’s exactly what I’m doing, ma’am.”

What Harry Potter Characters Taught Me or Motivate Me to Do:
  • Harry Potter: Never give up no matter what happens.
  • Ron Weasley: Stay loyal to my friends no matter how mad I am at them.
  • Hermione Granger: Keep reading, it's very useful.
  • Lily Potter: To look past the cover and look at the pages of "books" (people)
  • James Potter: Protect family even if it means dying trying to protect them.
  • Sirius Black: Always be true to who I am.
  • Remus Lupin: To accept love, even if I don't think I deserve it.
  • Peter Pettigrew: Never become a traitor.
  • Molly Weasley: Be kind to everyone, you never know what they're going through.
  • Arthur Weasley: Always question new things and explore.
  • Fred and George Weasley: Always make people laugh even if the world is falling apart.
  • Ginny Weasley: Stand up for yourself no matter how small.
  • Percy Weasley: Family matters, and family will always welcome you back.
  • Bellatrix Lestrange: Be badass no matter what gender.
  • Narcissa Malfoy: If someone does something for you, always return the favor.
  • Draco Malfoy: It's okay to be scared of things.
  • Lucius Malfoy: Not to be a stuck up prat.
  • Severus Snape: Do whatever it takes to help win a war or to protect someone.
  • Professor Dumbledore: Remain wise in times of trouble.
  • Professor McGonagall: No matter what age I am I am still capable of anything.