it's one of those mornings again


a quick break from working on my project🐳
here’s my rendition of 🎼Stormy Weather, inspired by this morning. this song makes me so happy despite its melancholic lyrics. then again, I am one of those ppl that loves rain n overcast and grey skies haha ☁
#crue #blackgirlmagic #independentartist #musician #jazzpiano #piano #electricpiano #singersongwriter #vibes #jazzstandard #jazz #stormyweather #soul

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“TW Adults Only” Preference #5 – Telling Him You’re Pregnant

You were beyond excited. You had taken the test last night and another again this morning just to be sure. It had been over a year ago that you had bought his gift and now you were finally able to pull it out of its hidden spot in a shoe box in the very back of your closet and unwrap it. 

It’s a plain white coffee mug. Parrish is big on his coffee on weekend mornings. He’s one of those human beings who can’t function without it. Playing the sweet wife, you carefully pour him some of your home brewed coffee into the mug, covering up the message “I’m pregnant” engraved at the bottom of the cup, when you hear him to start to shamble down the stairs.

You greet him at the bottom, coffee in hand and a smile on your face, trying desperately not to look to suspicious. He eyes you carefully, knowing something’s up though. You hand him the cup.

“Good morning, honey.” You keep your voice even and attempt to remove the too-wide smile from your lips. It’s more difficult to do than you thought it would be. “I know you had a long night at work. Thought I’d be nice this morning,” you explain as he takes his first sip, still looking at you like you’ve grown two heads. The taste of the coffee seems to soothe his suspicions and he looks sweetly at you.

“That’s nice of you,” he says, voice still scratchy with sleep. “Thanks, baby.” He kisses your cheek before moving to sit in his chair and watch the news peacefully.

It takes him 15 long minutes to drink his coffee, during which you can’t sit still. Your body’s buzzing with anticipation and you start cleaning old dishes just to keep yourself moving and out of his site. You hear him get up from his chair, getting up to poor another cup. A part of you sinks. You thought he would have noticed by now.

He smiles at you as he puts the mug on the counter and grabs the full pot of coffee. He looks down, directly at the bottom of the mug, to watch where he’s pouring and starts filling the cup. It takes him a moment. He fills it about a quarter of the way full before doing a double take, like his brain finally caught up to what his eyes saw. He stops and dumps the coffee into the sink next to you. He stares at the message and then at you.

“Are you really?” he asks. His voice has cleared some but it’s still it still manages to crack.  The big goofy smile returns to you face and you nod. “Oh my god.” It’s still taking his brain a minute to process. “Oh my god!” He puts the mug on the counter and rushes to wrap his arms around you. “We’re going to have a baby?”

You return the hug and whisper to him, “We’re going to have a baby.”

“Aren’t you done yet?” he knocks on the door impatiently. “How long does it take to pee on a stick?” he mutters to himself. You open the door to see him leaning against the wall next to the door frame. You hold the test up in front of you. “And?”

“We have to wait three minutes for the results.” You can tell his words practically kill him. He wants to know now. He was actually the one to suggest you take a test. It was a little earlier than you would have normally took a test, but he had been sure you smelled differently, that something in your body chemistry had shook up.

“Why aren’t these things instantaneous yet?” he pouts as you put the test on the kitchen counter while you set a timer on your phone. You have to laugh at him.

“Don’t stare at it,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling his attention to you. “You’ll drive yourself crazy.” He closes his eyes and sighs heavily, placing his forehead on yours. “You’ll be a good father,” you muse after a little while.

“I don’t have the best track record,” he says a little sadly. “I could screw it up.”

“You’ve got me,” you remind him. “I’ll push you back into place if you step out of line.” His eyes are still closed, but there’s a small smile on his lips.

“I don’t even know what to do with a kid,” he says. He’s been back and forth on his feelings, so excited and terrified at the same time.

“Well you better figure it out,” you tell him, glancing your eyes to the side. “I’m pregnant.” His eyes snap open and he lifts his head off yours.

“It hasn’t been three minutes!” he complains, confused at how you know. You laugh and nod your head to the test, already showing a second pink line. 

“I peaked,” you admit. He stares at the test for a moment before the relief and excitement wash over him. He hoists you up by your waist and pulls your legs around his hips. He kisses you passionately while you both start laughing.

“Well here goes nothing,” he chuckles.

You hadn’t been trying. You had been careful about protection most of the time. In retrospect, the fact that you have to add in “most of the time” to that statement negates it entirely. You hadn’t really been careful obviously. So staring at the two pink lines shouldn’t have been that shocking, but it was. It was terrifying. And now you had to tell him.

You walk out of the bathroom solemnly, carrying the test in your hand. No time like the present you figure. He’s standing in the kitchen and the second he sees you, he knows something’s wrong. He looks worriedly at you and comes to put his hands on your shoulders.

“Are you alright?” he asks. You shake your head and hold out the positive pregnancy test to him. It wasn’t even a faint, hard-to-see, might not actually be there line. It was a dark, glaring, obviously positive line. “Oh,” he says breathlessly. He takes a step away from you. “Oh.” He keeps staring at it. 

“I,” you try to start. “I know this isn’t… what you wanted.” He looks up pointedly at you.

“What do you mean?” You shrug and try to look away, fearful you may actually start crying.

“Well you already had your family,” you say. “You had your child.” He looks away sadly at the mention of Alison. You try not to talk about her too often, about the family he had previously. It had been enough loss to break a regular man and you didn’t like making him remember it. He places a hand on your cheek and makes you look at him.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t have another one.” You can feel you heart swell with hope when you hear the sincerity and sweetness on his tongue.

“Really?” you ask, too nervous to trust the hope filling you. He nods with a smile and shrugs.

“Sure, I’m a little older than I would have liked, but yeah.” He nods again more firmly, smile starting to spread across his face and reach his eyes. It’s contagious and your own lips start to tilt up.

“I can’t believe we’re going to be a family.” It comes out in a slight laugh of disbelief. Chris leans down and presses a kiss to your lips.

“We’ve always been a family.” He reaches down and gingerly brushing his knuckles along your stomach. “It’s just growing now.

It might have been cliché, but you couldn’t help it. The day you got the positive test, you went out and bought a onesie to give him. Honestly, you expected to get something small and plain, probably a neutral color with no words or pictures on it. Maybe a pair of little shoes to go with it. But as you were searching, your fingers danced across the perfect one. So you paid the overpriced amount of money for it and practically skipped back to your car.

You folded it into a plain, white box so the front of it showed when it was opened and put the cleaned off pregnancy test in with it before covering it with tissue paper and closing it up. Derek came home only about a half hour after you placed it on the coffee table for him.

You greet him as normal and when you pull away from the kiss, tell him, “Oh I bought you something while I was out today.” You walk him over to the couch where you both sit down and he picks up the box.

“I’ve told you to stop buying me things,” he says, trying to put on a tough demeanor. You knew he secretly liked when you bought him random gifts though. You just nudge him with your shoulder and prompt him to open it.

He unfolds the tissue paper and you watch his face as it lights up with excitement. His eyes take in the pink test and the white onesie, the word “Daddy’s Little Monster” printed in bold font above a black and white picture of a howling wolf head. His jaw hangs open as he slowly picks it up and unfolds it, admiring it in all its small glory.

“I’m pregnant,” you announce, as if he couldn’t have figured that out by himself. You both laugh at how stupid it sounds.

“Well if you aren’t, this is a crap gift,” he laughs before pulling you into a deep kiss.

Fake AH Crew Geoff

•Geoff stressing when one of his boys goes missing for an extended period of time.
•Someone getting emotional over a kill because every now and then the fact that they just shot someone gets to them and Geoff helping them calm down/taking care of them while they’re not 100% mentally.
•Geoff occasionally checking over the weapons himself because maybe one of them got missed when the guys were cleaning them and maybe it will jam and someone’ll get hurt, its not that big of an inconvenience anywaws.
•Geoff sitting up all night next to one of his boys when they get hurt /really/ bad.
•Geoff waking up in the morning after one of those nights and begrudgingly leaving to take care of himself, then returning like an hour later because he just needs to see again that they’re actually okay.
•Geoff releasing his stress with whisky and ink and the boys helping him when his drinking gets to excessive sometimes.
•The little laugh/sigh of relief when they’re on a mission and one of his boy’s mics goes dead, only to come back a few minuets later.

@angelofoverwatch liked for a Valentine’s starter

The jangle of spurs preceded him as it always did as the cowboy made his way through the corridors. His hands were in his pockets, his mind occupied with its own thoughts. Around him the Watchpoint was decorated in the theme of the month. It was February so that naturally meant hearts and little cupids. It was Valentine’s Day after all. The other Overwatch members had been going around since the morning exchanging cards and gifts of varying degrees. Some were meant to express friendship. Naturally everyone had gotten one from Lena. Others were meant to express love. Again, everyone had gotten one from Lena. Still others were meant to express a deeper affection. Those had been harder to come by.

McCree’s hand fidgeted in his pocket, fingers wrapping around the box secreted there. Inside was sapphire necklace meant for the woman of his dreams. All he had to do now was work up the courage to give it to her. He found it humorous in a dark way how he was able to run head first into gunfire and not blink but he struggled to tell Angela how he felt about her out of fear she wouldn’t feel the same. Emotions were weird.

Her telltale laugh came from up ahead, dragging McCree out of his own worried mind and jamming his heart squarely in his throat. His fingers tightened around his gift. It was now or never.

  • depended: -doesnt respond to my text message for hours-
  • me: -has a mental breakdown, texts them again 8 more times, assumes they are dead and its all my fault because they were probably driving and then read my message and got in a car wreck just like one of those shitty PSA's.-
  • depended the next morning: sorry i fell asleep on you last night haha sorry if i worried you
  • me: -looks up from my memorial wearing all black, hastily wiping my tears away and leans against a wall- dont even worry about it i wasnt even upset i can handle myself lol
Fiona Apple’s beautiful anxious poetry

That title implies I’m gonna talk about Fiona Apple’s music, but while I love her work, I’m actually talking about her Marc Maron interview that happened kind of a while ago. (Just fyi I’m way too big a Marc Maron stan – I really like him and probably even identify with him more than I should.)

I listened to this on a Friday morning before the sun rose, one of those times when you wake up and can’t fall asleep again. I was struck immediately by how  – to be totally honest – ineloquent Apple sounds. Compared to how beautiful her voice is, it sounds kind of awkward, like she’s drowning in this sea of words and is just trying to gurgle out whatever she can.

But that’s totally cool, because I quickly realized how amazing her manner of speaking is. It’s poetic and wonderful in its anxiety and strange-ness. When she hits on an idea, especially when she talks about her OCD, the words fall over themselves trying to come out. Maybe this is voyeuristic, but it’s fascinating how she describes needing to do things like visualize faces when she turned on the shower and the water hits the floor. The podcast – which is WTF at its best – is this strange, kind of manic window into the life of someone whose world you’ll never fully understand. But I like that after listening I think I get Apple a little more – it’s not a typical interview in any sense of the word, and because of that you can actually kind of get into her mind and understand where her near-perfect songwriting comes from.

“Song” of the day: Here’s the podcast if you want to listen to it.


one year - a forever hold your peace drabble

Birdy was quiet that morning when she entered into Harry’s flat, closing the door behind her as she crept inside. It was early, enough so that the birds were still chirping to welcome to new day. Normally she would have been groggy and buried underneath her duvet until her alarm forced her up but this particular day was quite a special one to Birdy – in fact, it had been one exact year to the day since she and Harry decided that they enjoyed each other’s presences enough to put an official title on it. Boyfriend and girlfriend, specifically.

Keep reading

Pray You Catch Me (Pt. 2/2)

Summary: This is the next story in my series of Beyoncé-inspired one-shots! It’s based of the first track from LEMONADE, “Pray You Catch Me” (my fave!!), with some references to “Resentment”. Don’t wanna spoil too much but it’s sad/jealous Bucky.

Other fics in this series: All Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Wordcount: 1.9K+

Warnings: sadness, angst, minor swearing (im sorry its SO melodramatic)

Part One | Part Two

Originally posted by shhhh-no-ones-home

And then, he saw that red dress again.

She said her father needed help cleaning out her attic, or something. And she took her luggage with her for the weekend again. So he trailed her.

He wished it wasn’t so, but Hydra’s training came in handy at this point. All those years of cold trails and evolving into a legend, he was an efficient worker, a secret in the night that left chaos in his wake for the morning. The mental programming may have been gone, but the muscle memory remained, and his instincts as accurate as before.

A wolf in the crowd, dark hair, dark clothes and darkened eyes, he walked towards the diner across her hotel. It was a notification on her phone that gave her away some days before – a confirmation for a room booking at a hotel in the city. All he really needed to do was wait for her to pack up and leave, again. So there he was, waiting for her at her destination.

His burger was cold, milkshake warmed, thin and runny. He didn’t touch his food, didn’t even look at it. His eyes were peeled at the revolving doors across the road. 

Two hours later, a limousine pulled up and a lady red strutted through those glass doors.

She was dressed to the nines. A blonde man with an over-moussed comb-over got out to greet her, leaving wet kisses on her perfectly powdered cheeks. She giggled as the man’s arms snaked around her waist for an intimate hug, palms lying low at her hip. The blonde’s slimy grip on her body was aided by his short stature, exaggerated by the six-inch heels buckled to her feet.

“I see you’re wearing that dress again. Don’t you gals hate repeating outfits?” he teased.
“Sure, but how else were you gonna recognise me if I wasn’t in this?” she purred.
“Baby, I’d know your legs from a mile away if you were walking towards me.”

He looked pathetic in comparison to her glamorous ensemble, wearing a black polo tee and blue jeans. She took his hand anyway and got in, whisked away in the fancy limousine, tinted windows shielding them from Bucky’s prying blue eyes.

He threw a fifty on the table before bursting out to hail a cab.

“Follow that limousine.”

It stopped at the corner of a nightclub in a swanky part of town, queues snaked around the block full of wannabes desperate to party with the rich and famous. But with the burly bouncers up front with a clipboard in hand. They wouldn’t let him touch the door, not without his name on the list, not without the money and name to buy himself onto the list.

He wasn’t far behind them. If he had quickened his pace, he would have been able to reach for her hand, to pull her back to him. Cowardice and resolution stopped him from taking action. He lingered long enough to see her slip into the dimly-lit entrance of the club as the bouncers nodded at the man guiding her in.

With his stature and strength, he could have knocked the bouncers out and barged his way in. With his metal arm, he wanted so badly to knock that sleazeball out, for good. His greasy hair and greasier outfit, what kind of self-respecting man would take a beautiful girl out wearing that? What kind of man would disrespect his date like that? Bucky knew how to clean up when the occasion called for it, even if he couldn’t afford expensive hotel stays or long black limousines.

And to think of it, he was probably half her age. The chap showed no signs of stubble on his face, while acne had certainly found its way to parts of his cheek and chin.

He ain’t even half of me.

He considered breaking into her hotel room to wait for her to return, but he knew he would have broken the man’s nose, jaw, ribs and dick if he saw them stumbling in past 3am and his slimy fingers pulled down the zipper of her dress (if he could reach it).

What are you doing my love?

Hovering his thumb over the “call” button, he stared at the photo of the two of them placed beside her number. It was their first New Year’s together but the photo wasn’t of the usual midnight kiss. Steve had taken a candid of them looking at each other, hanging out at Tony’s party. That night, fuelled by Tony’s Crystal, made it easier for him to let his guard down in front of the team. There were private conversations, lips to an ear. There was a hand on a knee, a palm on a waist, hands that couldn’t be kept to himself. He wasn’t fond of public displays of affection, but he betrayed those ideals and made public his very private desire for her. That night, she looked so damn good in ever little black sequinned dress. He was too proud to call her his, so he didn’t mind all the stares and hoots they got from everyone.

Nothing else ever seems to hurt
Like the smile on your face
When it’s only in memory

He decided against calling her. He decided against leaving a message for her. He decided against waiting in the hotel lobby until she returned until she checked out of the place. Flagging down an old yellow cab, he made his way home. He was going to wait for her, again. Those hours on the road gave him more than enough time to craft all he needed to say and do when she came back.

“I saw you last night. With that man.”

It was the first thing she heard when she unlocked the door to their bedroom. Her ragged appearance was a far cry from the glamour puss she was the day before. Matching that was the bags under his eyes. His sullen face was the first thing her eyes traced over as she stepped into the once-familiar, once-comforting space she called home. He sat at the edge of their bed, back hunched, eyes expressionlessly pointed towards a picture of them together, stuck on the mirror of her dresser.

Her brain skipped past several trains of thought. She didn’t need to ask where, how, or why he was saying this. She should have known better, he would have found out eventually. Occupational hazard. A spy always knows.

“It’s not what you think, let me expla-“

“Who is he? What the hell, he’s half my size, probably half your age. Is it the money? Are you going to leave me for him, or were you playing us both? If you weren’t happy with me why didn’t you say anything? I know you lied about your parents. Have you even told them about me? You must be embarrassed of me, huh?” He paused for a breather. “I just want to know – why?”

His voice was raised, cracking as he asked his last question. The floodgates had opened. Hiding his suspicions for so long, wrestling with his insecurities. He poured out his pain with his sharp choice of words.

Still, she knew she did nothing wrong. It was an occupational hazard. That was all.

“I love you so so so much, Bucky. I’m sorry I lied, I had to. But I didn’t mean for you to be hurt this way.”

“You had to? You had to lie to me? So you had to cheat too?”

She was close to tears. “Please, just let me finish.” She cautiously sat beside him on the bed. He didn’t flinch at her touch as she took his hands in hers.

“He’s nothing. He was my mission. I couldn’t tell you before because no one else knows about this. I’m on assignment from Director Coulson.”


“That’s exactly it, the team doesn’t know Coulson’s alive yet. And that guy was a high-ranking employee of this tech startup that was manufacturing malware and was intending to auction it off to terrorists around the world. I had to get intel on the sale. SHIELD needed me. Please understand.”

His face softened as he sighed through his nostrils. As much as he was relieved, her words didn’t lift the pain that still hung heavily on his chest.

“You had to lie,” he repeatedly after her.

“Yes, and I’m sorry. I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but it comes with the job, you know?” She waited for him to respond.

“Is the mission over?”

“Yes. Last night was the end of it. I got the intel, his encryption key, copied his access card.. the usual. It’s done. I’m not going anywhere. Will you look at me, please?”

As his eyes met hers, she broke at the sadness that still lingered in his eyes. She fought through her own tears as she spoke.

“I would never do that to you, okay? I will never-” She took a deep breath before she continued, “cheat on you. I really do love you. I’m so so sorry, Buck. It was just part of the mission.”

She didn’t deserve to cry. She waited for him to shout back and argue. She waited for the but-still’s and you-should-have’s.

“Did you.. with him?”


“And that dress?”

“He bought it for me. “A gift” he said.”

“And the hotel?”

“SHIELD’s tab. It was my cover. The jet-setting socialite. He didn’t get anywhere near my room, I swear.”

“I wanted to stab his eyes out when he ogled at you in that dress. I was so close to breaking his nubby fingers when he touched you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“What did you do with those plums? I really wanted your parents to have them.”

“I gave them to my taxi driver. I’m sorry, Buck. I really do wanna introduce you to them. I am not and have never been embarrassed about you. How’s this Christmas sound? My dad’s really excited to meet a Howling Commando.”

She prayed that those words would convince him that he had no competition at all. She had planned to spend the rest of week with him and only him, erasing that sleazeball’s fingerprints with Bucky’s tender touch, recuperating from the charade she had to put up for the past few months. No one likes keeping secrets from the people they love.

Her heart raced when he stood up. More tears fell from her eyes as she held her breath, expecting the worst. But he didn’t get up to leave. 

 After fetching some tissues from the bathroom, he began dabbing away the tears from her eyes, ever so gently with his metal fingers. 

“I’m sorry. I should have just asked instead of following you like that. I could have compromised your mission. If he’d spotted me, you could have gotten hurt. I should have tru—I’m sorry I didn’t trust you, I’m sorry my insecurities got the better of me. I’m sorry.”

It took her a while to register what he was saying. Relief overcame her as she pulled him into a hug, “please don’t apologise. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

They lingered in that position for a while, soaking all they had missed of each other, recollecting every arch and dune of their bodies, familiar puzzle pieces finding their way back to each other.

“Do you still have that dress?”


“You shouldn’t stuff it in your bag like that, it probably costs more than all the stuff we have here.”

“I know. But it’s his money.”

“You looked really good in it by the way.”
It felt good to hear the playfulness return in his voice.

“I’ll put it on for you anytime you like, soldier.”

that’s it for this one! tried something new with this one, hope you liked it. thanks for reading :)

read All Night next~

DAY 3020

Jalsa, Mumbai                July  7/8,  2016                Thu/Fri  3:42 am

What really would the world do without sport ..??

Mornings are moored to the news papers and those last few pages reserved for the world of sporting activity. The games analysis timings stars impressions details .. all ..

We may have seen the event the previous night, but reading in it again, is a confirmation almost of what the experience was, live or semi live through the box .. calling the box the box is now gradually getting outdated .. its a box of another kind .. smaller thinner and possessing functions that now one cannot do without .. 

That is where sport finds a place in our outlets for the media .. films and our work goes beyond that as well .. we are confirmed last pagers, with a bit of luck .. our mode of reading should be in form and state of an Urdu book .. it seems reverse to us, but the correct way for them that read and know the language ..

So .. the day planned is a day planned with the timings of our sporting activities, come what may .. Wimbledon, Kabaddi, Football .. cannot be compromised, nor ever will .. they are leaders, the boss the employer .. work with them or lose the job .. that is it ..

And there are rituals that precede an event ..

Dress codes, sitting locations, consumables, company … and of course back ups for power, connections kept on standby .. just in case ..

Staff that connects .. is firmly told to keep distant … now they do not need telling .. there is deeper understanding among them .. game on, stay away .. and if in emergency - DO NOT STAND IN FRONT OF THE TV SCREEN .. !!

There is then that very unique but informed conversation that follows as the game progresses .. which player to be brought on, why a particular section of the game is not going according to our ‘following’, screams and shouted instructions as though they are able to hear us through the screen .. and .. goal scored is a roar that matches the stadium roar of the team or country followers .. not all yet .. its a sudden getting up from the seat of occupation right up to the screen .. !! hoping almost like the stadium fans rushing up to the goal scorer on the edges of the field …

Half time breaks are consumed much like what could have been under consumption in the locker rooms of the players .. debates strategy what where how and when .. substitutions, foul words for those that miss a chance or are not playing to standard .. all this and more … 

The more is with the small box the mobile .. there is a constant diversion on with the fan follower viewer on the prognosis of the game on mobile connect .. messages exchanged, comments printed, the works .. we all become experts and we all become the stars of the arena …

YEEAAAAAHHHHHHH … COME ON .. and the like speed past those internet fibre optics at the rates of 4G … hopefully .. settling for the 2G mostly …  

Losses are lamentations, victory celebrations .. each day .. what one wishes rarely takes fruit, but when it does it attracts immense mobile message activity..

And now .. on the social media …

A Blog as of now, a tweet a FB .. and then its over for the next day ..

Good night

Amitabh Bachchan

Love your life, perfect your life, beautify all things in your life. Seek to make your life long and its purpose in the service of your people. Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide. Always give a word or a sign of salute when meeting or passing a friend, even a stranger, when in a lonely place.
Show respect to all people and grovel to none. When you arise in the morning give thanks for the food and for the joy of living. If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies only in yourself. Abuse no one and no thing, for abuse turns the wise ones to fools and robs the spirit of its vision.
When it comes your time to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with the fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way.
Sing your death song and die like a hero going home
—  Chief Tecumseh

Recap- first you meet Kol half naked in your kitchen. The next morning you met him again and he told you about his old gf. And. He made you broth to feel better.
It’s been two weeks. Your sister broke up with Kol. Well more of a one night stand. You seen him all around those. He was everywhere you turned. You were back to health but life had its ups and down. Today was another down. You just caught your boyfriend making out with your best friend. So in return you stole all the nutts to his car and sold his tires you were sittin on a park bench when Kol walked over. He saw your the nuts in your hands as he spoke,“ a saw a guy freaking out over his tires.. But I never expected you.”
Smiling weakly you tossed the nut bolts in the pond , “ he had it coming.” “ what he do?” Rolling your shoulders. “ cheated on me with my best friend.”
Kol nodded his head fast turning around. You leaped up grabbing his arm stopping Kol.
“Your hot and British. Don’t add bad boy to that list.” He smiled weakly as you freed his arm. “I’m starving you?” Looking at Kol did he just ask you out? “ ugh.. Don’t you think that’s awkward .. My sister and all?” He. Shook his head as he spoke, “ it’s food. I’m not asking to marry you yet.”
Your eyes grew large but you fallowed Kol. Hopefully your sister won’t mind.


HOLY SHIT. THIS WAS MY MAILBOX THIS MORNING. I really didn’t want to spam everyone all over again, so I figured that I would address this all at once. 


I have one of those scratchy maps, and I really want to scratch off where all my followers are from. Because that would be so amazing. And besides! This is a hetalia blog, its basically dedicated to the countries anyway!!

ALSO: We are almost at 2000 Followers!?!?! You guys are all amazing and thank you so much for sticking around through all my headcanon posts!

But let’s think about this for a moment. You are told you’ll kill everyone you love and will end up all alone. The one thing you always feared most. And you are losing time and losing control and are plagued by nightmares spinning in your head over again. And when you are awake you can feel the mark itching on your skin, demanding to be fed, crying out to get more blood. And the memories of the feeling of holding the blade and the rush after killing with it cling to your stomach and fill you with dread and excitement in equal measures. And all that is happening ever day. 24 hours. There’s no escaping, there’s no forgetting. And even when you hold a possible cure in your hands, hear it calling out to you, to take it with you and run like Kevin Tran with the monster tablet, you keep your “head in the game”. Have the strength to not do that but give it away. For your own good. Yes, you are fighting. A never ending battle. And you say you will do that until you can’t do it anymore, because you yourself think of yourself as weak, a failure, a burden. So there’s no way you think you could win this, be the one left standing. Still all of it just proves one thing: You are so much stronger than you think, then you realize. You prove it every single day. With every single action. But you’ll always be blind to your own strengths and your own - no matter how big or small - victories. Sam and Cas are right. You can beat this. But it has to be you to realize it, to find it. And I am sure whatever it is and whenever it will be. You’ll find the answer. Not out there. But within.

Good Again

I saw this picture on Tumblr one day and I was inspired to write an Everlark oneshot. This oneshot takes place after Mockingjay and is what I think life was like for the Mellark family. I would like to thank titania522 for agreeing to help me by correcting any grammar mistakes I had in the story and by just being helpful overall with all of her suggestions. She is amazing and extremely sweet and I am so grateful that she helped me. If you are not following her on Tumblr its your loss. (Follow her) Any mistakes in the oneshot are mine. 

Let me know what you guys think :)

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the setting sun sent bright rays of yellows and oranges cascading through the window and across the scattered and rustled sheets as your back pressed against the mattress and ashton’s head found its way onto your stomach, the soft curls of his hair gently nestled against the thin material of his shirt that hung over your frame and it was always like this before one of you had to leave, those dreaded hours before he was destined to hop onto the next plane and fly halfway across the world to play sold out shows or the morning before you had to say goodbye and head back home in time to start school once again, but those looming thoughts of loneliness and separation wouldn’t cross either of your minds once your index finger ghosted along his stubble-covered jawline, dimples immdeiately indenting into his cheeks as his lips pulled up into a smile, eyes shifted towards you, gleaming tints of a gold as the lit up his face, casting shadows along the column of his throat and side of his nose and he would tilt his head up a bit, meeting your hand that traced against his chin, stubble tickling the pads of your fingers before he brought his hand to yours and guided it to his lips, eyelids fluttering closed as he pressed his lips to each of your fingers before he sighed contently, his slight smile never faltering even a bit, as he let his head fall back softly against your stomach once again and reached blindly for your hand, lacing your fingers together and letting his thumb draw shapes into your skin