like small miracles

this really amazing and beautiful thing happened recently on twitter where i made a tweet about how a lot of 4chan edgelords on twitter with anime girl icons have probably wished they were a girl once or twice in their lives and like several of those teen anime edgelords found the tweet and showed up in my DMs agreeing with me and timidly asking me questions about being trans, it was like a small miracle of some sort

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PCT Day 143: Payphones and Park Rangers

It was a blessed relief to wake up naturally, without the sound of an alarm clock, having no clue what time it was. I got dressed and ambled down the hill to the restaurant for breakfast. The fact that I didn’t feel the least bit sick or run-down after yesterday’s escapade felt like a small miracle, and I was hungry to boot. I wolfed down two pancakes that were the size of the plate, and washed them down with a succession of cups of coffee.

I was pretty much the only one in the restaurant that early, so I never got done with more than half a cup before someone was coming around to top me off again. I can’t wait to start having coffee like this–hot–every day, instead of the shitty instant stuff mixed cold with cocoa and protein powder. (Not that I’m ungrateful; that combo has gotten me through some hard mornings. But.)

(Lake Chelan, from the Stehekin dock)

Amidst my errands in town–the post office, calling a bunch of people on the payphone, etc.–I got talking with Hippie Gypsy and Just Bob, the same couple who took the bus down with me last night, and who got the last room at the lodge. They were beyond apologetic–they’d known what sorry shape I was in, and felt bad that I’d had to tent out, but at $200 a room I was happy (or at least willing) to camp for free and take my chances with diphtheria and whooping cough.

They were lovely people, full of energy and dedication to the moment, and they even bought me a beer. That I’d be sitting outside in the sunshine smiling and drinking a Hefeweizen would have seemed completely impossible 24 hours ago. How much happens in a day!

(The cleanest, best-dressed man in town.)

I came out here on this hike for a whole host of reasons, not least of which were the solitude and scenery, but as I look back I find the things I remember most and most fondly are the people. The connections I’ve made out here, the pure unadulterated kindness I’ve been shown–it’s all been such magic. People, man.

I had another chance to feel this way in the evening, after taking the shuttle bus back to trail and hiking a few hours out. I set up camp in a flat space next to a site marked “closed”–I was hoping the marker didn’t apply to my site, too. Wrong. I was in the middle of cooking dinner when a North Cascades National Park Ranger approached me. It turned out my site *was* closed, due to overuse; it also turned out that I needed an additional permit to camp at any designated site in the national park, though my bus driver had told me otherwise.

But the ranger, Cliff, didn’t take the opportunity to work out on me or take a power trip. He calmly explained why these things were the way they were, got my information, and told me I was welcome to stay where I was–no sense hiking out another 7 miles this close to dark when your tent’s already set up, said Cliff. He had every reason to be a dick, given how badly in the wrong I was, and didn’t take the opportunity. He was kind and helpful, and oh boy did I appreciate it. Getting some huge fine with 3 days to go on this hike would have been a stone-cold bummer; I’m so glad that people like Cliff are the way they are.

(I also got to try the goods at the famed Stehekin bakery today, on my way out on the bus. It certainly wasn’t life-changing, as it’s been made out to be, but I had a damn good cinnamon roll, at least. I’m sure I would have felt even sunnier towards the whole thing if I’d’ve eaten there straight off of the trail, like you get to do on the earlier shuttles.)

Like... small miracles... who knew?

Okay, so back in December my car had some troubles. Even though it was out of warranty, and likely would have cost a lot of money to fix, the guy at the dealership worked it so I’d only have to pay a $100 co pay. Great! It was just a wonderful thing to hear, because it was Christmas and I was strapped for cash.

Cue three months later. I’m in Canada and my damn check engine light comes on again. I CANNOT afford to get this thing fixed, so I pray that I can make it home.

I make it home, and there’s bills to pay, a child to support, and I just can’t worry about my stupid car until I get some extra cash. It’ll probably cost a fortune to fix.

Cue Saturday. I get a letter from the dealership. There was a recall on part of the emissions system and I needed to bring the car in because it could cause problems for the catalytic converters.

Nice. I wasn’t expecting that my problem stemmed from this recall, but it turns out, it did. So I got everything fixed for free and there are no longer any worries.

Except for the fact that I have a migraine and need to sleep, but cannot fall asleep.

4

the raven boys, chapter 4
the dream thieves, chapter 8
blue lily, lily blue, chapters 25 & 29

andressiniesta  asked:

025: "I’d like it if you stayed." + dramione

( prompts. ) || ( @neymaarsjr. )


They aren’t together.

Not officially, not even between them. She spends a lot of time at his place, and him at hers. They kiss in the comfort of their guarded homes or shadows in public. He sends her owls when she’s at work, so she can smile at it and tuck it into her bag to keep. She leaves hair bands and hairpins scattered around his place. She finds one of his shirts in a pile next to her bed more days than not. He takes books from her collection to read. They fall asleep together and they wake up together. He has coffee already ready when she wakes in the mornings, because he’s always always always up before her.

They act like a couple sometimes, but they’re not. They’re not.

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anonymous asked:

for that meme thing, pynch and f (an absent look or touch) or e (sharing a drink) please?

I already did E for them, so I’ll do F! Guess who has a lot of feelings about Adam overcoming his conditioning? Only nice touches for Adam Parrish from here on out! You hear me, universe!?

Adam is focusing in close on the feel of the line beneath him when Ronan lays a hand on his shoulder. The touch breaks his concentration, but doesn’t startle him in the way unexpected touches tend to. It may be because Ronan’d set it there so gently. Or it may be because he’s with people he trusts in the forest that he knows will protect him. Both are situations which feel like small miracles to him. People love him. People trust him back. People only touch him in ways he wants to be touched. Ronan–who looks so like he’s made of broken glass and tar pitch, whose thin lips and scarred knuckles are so often a challenge to the world at large–only touches Adam the way he wants to be touched.

Adam tries to pinpoint when this became A Thing. Or maybe A Thing is too optimistic, but it feels like something big to him. It feels like bones knitting back together. It feels like every time he’s ever embarrassingly flinched in front of strangers being written over by a version of himself who is not afraid. Like he finally belongs somewhere. He’s starting to crave this.

God, he’s so needy and it must be so obvious to everyone else.

He looks up from the arrangement of fallen branches he’s trying to finagle into Cabeswater’s preferred design to see if the others are looking at Ronan’s hand on his shoulder with appropriately stricken wonder. The others are not. 

Gansey and Blue are a hundred yards or so away and having a quiet argument over the EMF meter. Noah is perched by the edge of a small stream, taunting the fish by passing his hand over them. It’s the only place where Noah has a shadow and he takes great pleasure in using it to act on the world around him. Adam can relate to that.

Ronan’s hand is on Adam’s shoulder and no one is even paying attention to it. Seriously, when did this become A Thing?

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Summer Sweat

The sun shone brightly over the Impala, casting a long shadow down onto the burnt grass. Light jumped from each blade of grass to the next, causing even the driest patches to look warmer. You pushed yourself higher onto the Impalas hood with your sneaker, lying your back on the hot glass. Your shirt was stuck to your body which was turning red without your noticing; you were at such an ease it didn’t matter.
-
Dean found your room empty, and immediately knew where you were. He grabbed two bottles of water, heading up the metal staircase and towards the car. He couldn’t help it. Dean always felt the need to be around you. His shoes crunched the grass beneath him, and the sun beat down relentlessly on his squinting eyes. Without a word he passed you a bottle and you smiled, shielding your eyes with your hand to see him. Leaning back down you chugged half of it down, then took the condensation on the outside and rubbed it up and down your arms. Dean let out a light laugh, but did the same to his face. You shut your eyes once more and let the bottle hang loosely in your hand.
Dean looked at you through his lashes, and past the seemingly thick sunbeams.
“You’re face is burning up” he warned quietly.
“Shh” you whispered without opening your eyes. Dean shrugged and sat next to you, peeling his outer layer off and tossing it on the grass. He then laid next to you, his back burning from the glass too. It was as if you’d known Dean all your life, a small comfort hung in the space between you and him. He felt the same way.
Eventually you fell asleep there. The occasional soft wind rippling through your hair like a small miracle. Each gust of wind was softer than the last, but just as cool.
Dean was the first to wake up, turning his head slightly and smiling at you.
“Y/N” he shook your shoulder lightly. Your body was glistening, mostly from the sweat, but the sun did add a certain beauty.
“Hmm?” you mused.
“Drink some water, don’t need you fainting on me” he said and you listened, drinking the rest down.
You looked up at him through your lashes, only now knowing just how many freckles painted his nose and cheeks. His green eyes darted up to the cloudless sky, and you wondered what he could be thinking. Without a second though you placed your head on his shoulder, leaning so your shoulder was resting on his. He looked down at you and gave off a sort of half-smirk, not cocky, but relieved. Dean watched your fingers absentmindedly trail up and down the water bottle, feeling the last of it’s cool drops trickle off.
“I-“ Dean parted his lips for only a second, setting his jaw back into place.
“What?” you asked.
“Never mind” he said, looking off to the side. You tilted your head up but could only see his chin from your angle.
“Tell me” you pressed, elbowing him lightly. Dean swallowed and looked down at you, giving you a goofy grin. You smiled and rested your head back down. You watched Dean’s chest rise up and down, finding a certain comfort in it. And with that you let it go, he’d tell you in his own time.

Fic: Almost Melancholic

Post 513 fic. 1900 words.

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Rachel, convinced that one last act of teenage rebellion is good for the soul, hosts the Farewell to New Directions party at her dads’ house. Or as Mercedes has deemed it, The Rachel Berry House Party Trainwreck Extravaganza, Take Two.

Kurt gets ready at Blaine’s, trying on outfits that match without looking like they’re trying to, and Blaine, wide-eyed and sincere, tells Kurt that he promises to kiss no one but Kurt this time. Kurt laughingly tells him that he’ll hold him to that, and they spend the next half hour messing up their chosen outfits and end up having to change again. So by the time they arrive at the Berrys’ everyone else is already present and accounted for.

There are more people crowded in the Berry basement than there were for the original Trainwreck Extravaganza, the New Directions both new and old. Kurt doesn’t know the new ones all that well, but he decides he should maybe change that as he’s handed a glass of punch by Unique, who kisses him messily on the cheek, smearing him with lipgloss. He can smell the rum on her breath and smiles to himself, thanking her and wrapping an arm around Blaine’s waist. It’s going to be one of those nights; he can already tell.

Rachel made the punch. This in and of itself is worrisome—even though Kurt was not present for the puke-fest that occurred after the last party and Rachel’s hangover concoction which followed, he has heard the story many times and in absolute, disgusting detail. He chokes down his first cup and is quickly handed another by Puck, who informs him that he is letting loose with them tonight, and before he knows what is happening he’s on the stage with a microphone in hand and Mike’s arm slung over his shoulders.

The rest of the night is a blur with bright stills of memory.

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My favorite Catholic holiday most people don’t know about is Jesus Inspection Day, when Jesus pops into your house and inspects it. Been hiding a sketchy collection of body pillows? Forget to clean your room? Neglecting your grandma? Jesus is gonna find out. Then you give him some food, he performs a little miracle like turning one of your possessions into a smaller version of itself, and he gives you your final score. Last year was wild. My family scored a near-perfect 987.43 and demolished our district’s record. My uncle failed miserably and Jesus gave him a second butt