no one can tell me any differently

Every day I handle more money than I will ever make. Every day.

At the start of my employment, my boss showed me videos of people stealing, and we both had a chuckle about it. How silly they were! There was a camera overhead, and it’s not to watch the shoppers. See, we can’t actually stop shoplifters. They get away with it maybe nine out of ten times. But we, who are watched and tallied and witnessed? We are always caught.

At first it was hard to hold one hundred dollars bills. An amount I had never seen before. An amount that didn’t exist in my household. It’s normal now. Here is something that is not for me.

“What the hell, I’ll take another,” says the man, pondering our 200 dollar watches. What the hell. Total comes to 580 and not even a flinch in his face. I have been working for 11 hours today and made only 110 dollars. It will go to my rent. Today I work for free, it feels. When I get my check, I will have 35 dollars left for food and saving.

The six hundreds he hands me go into the cash register. For a moment, I imagine having money. Then I put it away, counting out his change.

I know for a fact we sell our products for double what they are worth. That I could be making commission. That they could hand me those 580 dollars and change my life and not even mark the difference in their checkbooks. He’s not the only sale they make today, but I am the reason they made it. He’s not the only one spending 600 dollars, but if I hadn’t spent two hours with him telling me about his life, he wouldn’t have spent any. I go home. I don’t own a watch.

I have watched and rewatched a video on how to make salmon four ways. My shopping list is always the same. Pasta. Rice. Tuna. If I can afford butter it was a good week. I dream of the world I will never walk in, where I can throw the best fish fillet in the cart with a shrug. I hold hundreds in my hand and look up at the camera. I put them under the cash drawer.

I go to work. I scrap together my savings. I eat my bowl of rice slowly. My manager takes a paid week off from work just for his birthday. He owns a yacht. 

I’m not worth the cost of a watch.

2

Do you see any difference between these two gifs, other than the colors and the pixels ? Well, one is made with Flipnote Studio on my Nintendo DSi, and the other one is made with TVPaint.

 I just wanted to post the same animation but with two different programs, to show you guys that an idea can be expressed and understandable through many mediums ! I could draw this in traditional too if I wanted. But why am I posting this ?

 A few days ago, I received a message from a professional animator, telling me that I was wasting my time animating on “that sh*tty program” and that I will “never find a job or earn money” if I continued working like this. It was brutal, and awfully judgemental, especially coming from someone who shares (or is supposed to, at least) the same passion for animation as me. 

 He also told me that he will never follow me or like any of my animations because of the program I use. So, well … I just replied that his behavior was beyond childish, and absolutely unprofessional. I said, “You don’t see the potential of the animations I share there with many people, I put all of my love on them, I work hard and I enjoy making them. Yeah I’m not gaining any money from that hard work, so what? Do you think everybody on the internet shares their work only for profit?”

 I took some time to think about it. It hurt me a little but then I remembered that so many of you follow me, give me great feedback, and heartwarming comments, even if I don’t draw on the BEST programs ever! I mean, just because someone draws on Paint Tool SAI instead of Photoshop, it doesn’t mean that their art sucks!  

 I learned a lot with Flipnote Studio and thats why I still use it to animate, and you can see that I can animate with many colors too (I wanted to show you later as a surprise but well, now you know) and I will be able to teach you things about TVPaint if you want now. Remember, my friends: an artist is someone who has the capacity to share emotions and messages through the art they are creating; no matter what medium or program you use for it, if it’s understandable you’re doing it right! 

 I hope this will help some of you who are working on less well-known programs and had some jerk telling them that it was bad. I’m glad to see that young animators, artists & people who are not creators at all saw the hard work in my animations, and pushed me up ! I love you all, and I will continue to work hard for you, to share my huge passion of animation with you and make you smile as always ! Merci tout le monde !

Let me tell you something about power imbalances

Since the Otayuri-discourse is getting really annoying, I would like to tell you something. Power imbalances can have an effect on every relationship. Romantic as well as platonic. A power imbalance can turn into an unhealthy relationship of any kind. But there is one thing, that everyone seems to ignore: A power imbalance itself does not cause abusive behavior. On its own its neither good nor bad. Its the way it is used, that makes the difference between healthy and unhealthy relationship.

A power imbalance is like a “tool”. It can be used by an abuser to take advantage of its victim. The abusers keep themselves on the higher level to maintain the imbalance. This can lead to physical and emotional abuse. The abuser can easily pressure the victim into doing things that they aren’t comfortable with. For example: Older friends pressuring the younger one into drinking alcohol/older lover pressuring younger to have sex despite them not being ready for it. And this is obviously a horrible thing.

But a power imbalance can also have a positive effect. In a healthy relationship the more powerful part tries to minimize the imbalance. They don’t see the other on as lower. They want to be on an equal level. The imbalance can be used to help the younger one grow, while also making sure that they are safe don’t go over their limits. It can be reassuring to have someone more experienced that can help you in life and share their experiences. One great example for a healthy relationship with a power imbalance in the beginning is a ship you all love: Victuuri!

At the start of the show Yuuri is a loner. He doesnt have many friends and the only thing he really cares for is skating (and Victor of course). He has huge anxiety and really lacks in confidence. He idolizes Victor and therefore sees him as above him.  Also, Yuuris love life before Victor is pretty much non existent and he just becomes a blushing mess at the mere mention of eros. On the other hand we have Victor “Sexiest-Man-Alive” Nikiforov. He is way more experienced and confident than Yuuri and has had a few relationships in the past. All this puts a huge imbalance on Victors side. We see this in the beginning, when Victor was really pushy, thinking Yuuri was still as confident and flirty as he was at the banquet, making Yuuri feel visibly uncomfortable. When Victor sees this, he tones down the flirting to keep it at a pace that Yuuri can comfortably move along with. We see Victor helping Yuuri becoming more confident in his abilities and more comfortable with his sexuality. Victor used the power imbalance to turn the idol-fan-relationship into a loving relationship between two equals.

This concludes, that a power imbalance itself does not automatically make a relationship bad. Its the mindset of the more powerful person, that determines if this imbalance can be healthy or not.

Now lets talk about Otayuri!

First of all, Yuri is not the pure, innocent, little child, that needs to be sheltered from everything, that you all seem to think he is. We are talking about the “kid” who wanted to skate to eros, because he thought it would fit him better. The kid who watched Yuuri and Chris pole dancing and kept tons of photos of it. The kid who told Mila to stop acting horny after breaking up with her boyfriend. Most 15/16 years old boys are not innocent angels…  Also, Yuri is actually quite mature for his age. Yuri moved away from his home to St. Petersburg when he was around 10 years old. He is the main provider for his family since his junior debut. Growing up away from home, with this high responsibilities makes you mature faster. He committed his life to figure skating. He had the determination and disciplin to win GPF gold on his senior debut. This level of dedication, endless training, without complaining, to work towards a goal, is a sign of maturity. Sure, sometimes he acts childish and on impulse, but so does Victor, the guy who pauses his career for a year, travels to Japan and suddenly shows up naked at a hot spring, because of his crush on a drunk Yuuri.

We have seen Otabek and Yuri both supporting and admiring each other. We see Otabek helping Yuri to grow. Yuri doesnt act like an angry brat with him. He is much calmer and happier around him.  Kubo even said that Otabek sees them as equals. There is only a small power imbalance between them. Its even smaller than between Victor and Yuuri. And since their relationship is based on mutual respect and support, and Otabek wants them to be equal, there is not even the slightest hint, why this relationship would be abusive in any way. To me this looks like the perfect base for a healthy relationship. So what makes you think that Otabek would be a predator? What makes you think he would take advantage of him? Why would he harm Yuri? This is what bothers me the most about this discourse. By saying this ship would be unhealthy , disgusting and bad, you are accusing Otabek of being an abusive asshole. And this magnificent, loving character does not deserve this hate.

This post is obviously not meant to say that all relationships with age differences are totally ok. This is meant to explain, that it is not always automatically bad. There are many unhealthy relationships where both people are the same age or where the abuser is the younger one. Age alone is not what makes a relationship healthy or unhealthy. The mindset of the individual person is!

We Need To Talk About Ramona Blue:

TO EVERYONE WHO GAVE THIS BOOK ONE STAR WITHOUT READING IT:

First off, know that I am not going away. I am going to stand here and scream this from the rooftops as many times as I have to. Because I am tired of my voice and my story being drowned out. This book tells my story. If I get even one person to at least consider they might be wrong, if even one person buys this book because of me, then I’ve made a difference. 

I respect your opinion and based off of the original synopsis I completely understand why you felt that way - indeed I agree with you. I understand why the initial synopsis made you angry, really I do. The b.s. trope that lesbians (or any LGBT+ girl) can be ‘cured’ by finding the right boy is not just offensive and incorrect, but incredibly, incredibly harmful. And when it’s used as much as it is, it leads to people in the real world justifying their homophobic thoughts with - “I can f**k that girl, she’s secretly straight anyway. I can make her change her mind. She just needs the right guy.” Corrective rape is a very real danger and one that is directly impacted by words like those in that synopsis.

But this isn’t what the book is about. When the author, Julie Murphy @andimjulie, was informed of how offensive and harmful the synopsis/blurb was she started arranging to have it changed. Because here’s the thing: authors don’t get to write those. Some random person at the publishing house does. It’s that random person that made the harmful words and who misunderstood the book.

The new synopsis is up on this goodreads page now  . Please read it and maybe consider changing or removing your rating?

Because this book isn’t about 'lesbians can be cured.’ This book is about bisexual girls, girls just like me, who grow up not knowing that they are bi. Believing that because they like girls they must therefore be lesbians or because they like boys they must therefore be straight. I’m the latter; in this heteronormative world I spent years believing I was straight before I realised.

This book is for all the girls like me who think they fit into one box because they like someone and then one day, realise they have feelings for a different gender. It is about how confusing and scary and downright terrifying that is. It is about lying awake all night thinking “but does liking this boy mean i was straight all along?” “do i actually like him or is it because i’m supposed to?” it’s about worrying that you can’t change your identity because people already know you as a 'lesbian.’ Worrying that you’re just attention seeking or greedy or unable to make up your mind, that you’re on the fence and you need to choose.

This book is about the moment of relief when you finally find the name that suits you - bisexual. Or, perhaps when you decide that it’s okay to not know for sure right now. And how much weight is taken off you once you know who you are, and you have an identity.

I haven’t read the book yet but the new revised synopsis reflects that the book will actually be about those topics. You’re punishing the author for what someone else misunderstood and wrote as a harmful piece of promotion. Notice how different (and not harmful) the synopsis is now that it’s been written with the author’s suggestions instead of just by some dude? That to me suggests that the book itself, written entirely by her, will be much more like the new synopsis than the old one.

Oh, and you will also notice that I mentioned I haven’t read the book yet. So how then, you wonder, am I able to sit here and say that the book will be about all of the things above?

Because I am that girl. I went through all of those things. Mine was vice versa to Ramona - I believed that I had to be straight because I liked boys and if you like boys that’s all you can be right? Wrong. It was so, so hard for me to figure out who I am, where my place in this world is. It took me four years to get where I am (I’m 18 now). And I still haven’t finished this journey - my parents don’t know. I know, from reading this new synopsis, that that is what this book is about because I have lived it. I know because the author is bisexual, married to a man - she has lived it too.

Tumblr I just don’t get it. We cry and cry for more representation but when you have it you destroy it’s chances with negative reviews before it’s even begun. All because it’s the “wrong sort” of representation. You don’t want this bi girls story, my true story, because it shows that sometimes girls who like girls also like boys. Not always but sometimes. And sometimes we end up with those boys. 

Please, buy this book. Promote this book, please at least undo this low rating until you have read it. This book could have saved me so much heartache when I was fourteen. It could have let me know that I was not alone. It could have saved me six months of self-harm, an emotionally abusive relationship, bullying for being 'frigid.’

I didn’t have this book when I was facing all those things. But the next bi or pan girl could. We could save them.

Representation is important. Lesbian representation and positive, good representation at that, is important. But so is bi girl representation. And this book just happens to be one for the bi girls. This doesn’t have to be either or, bi girls existing doesn’t mean that lesbians do not. Please, let’s not harm each other’s chance at representation. Let’s support each other.

Please, at least let’s read this book before we give it a rating. Please help the next girl like me before she is hurt.

therapist: so tell me about yourself

me: you need to know before any of this that i am extraordinarily self-aware and have been dealing with this on my own for more than a decade so probably won’t respond well to traditional therapy techniques as i’ve tried pretty much everything that you can find on the internet for a long enough time to build up a tolerance for it all so you might have to work harder

therapist: alright then i’m going to suggest something a little different, you might have heard of this one but maybe give it a shot… it’s called…. “mindfulness”

me: alright so we have 45 minutes still but i’m just gonna go ahead and leave now.

A Ghost Can't Hurt the Living

There are a lot of misconceptions about ghosts. It’s mostly thanks to Hollywood; if you watch enough movies, they’ll have you checking over your shoulder for vengeful spirits waiting to snap your neck or drag you to hell or whatever chintzy bullshit gets churned out that Halloween.

The truth is that Ghosts can’t ever hurt the living. Hell, they can’t even touch us. You can trust me on this; old Peter Menaker has been following me around for about fifteen years now, and he’s never laid a hand on me. He’s made it abundantly clear the handful of times he’s actually said a word to me. Mostly though, he just follows me around, drifting in and out of my life with the occasional reminder that he’s there.

That’s all a Ghost can do to you, actually. Just lurk around the corners of your eye, occasionally stepping to the forefront of your vision before disappearing back into the shadows. No one else is ever able to see or hear them, so eventually you just learn to live with it. That’s what I’ve done, at least. I’ve gotten older, landed my dream job, found a wife who loves me, and I’ve even had a son last year. It’s amazing how it’s all worked out, really. I’m a world away from where I was that night when I was seventeen, driving back from my teammates house after a few too many drinks and I heard that sickening thump as I cut a corner a bit too hard. I slammed the brakes and rushed out my car, and that’s when I saw Mr. Menaker sprawled out there in the middle of the road, legs pointing the wrong way and blood seeping out of his mouth. He sputtered something about calling an ambulance, but just looking at him I was sure he wouldn’t make it before they arrived; I guess I was right, but I didn’t stick around to find out.

Obviously, I’m not proud of that night. There isn’t a single day I don’t regret it, and don’t hate myself for what I did. But like I said, I’ve grown since then. I’ve become a new person; a better person. I wish I could change the past, but since I can’t, what good does living in it do anyone?

That’s what I tell myself, at least. And Peter too, though it’s never done me any good. I’ve tried to explain myself to him as often as I can, but it’s never made an ounce of difference to him. He always just stands there, silent, resolute, and waiting.

A Ghost can never hurt the living. But no one lives forever, and a Ghost is nothing if not patient.

touraybinta  asked:

Hey, i'm trying to be confident with myself but what's really throwing me off is my acne. I'm 16 years old and i know it's puberty but can you help? I get a new one almost everyday and have a lot of clogged pores and acne scars. i drink water, exfoliate and wash my face twice a day. Nothing seems to help. I get a lot on my nose and clogged pores on my forehead and chin. recently i've started getting some on my cheeks. Do you have any tips on getting rid of clogged pores and acne scaring?

Okay I feel you because I use to be you. I can’t really help you bc everyone’s skin is different but I’ll tell you what has worked for me:
• I realized my skin was not oily just dehydrated so no harsh cleansers and I washed my face less and with colder water
•you are what you eat. Get your daily vitamins and cut down on hot cheetos
• sun screen is gold
•black african soap is something thank the Lord for
• acv toner is good to balance ph of your skin
•which hazel rose water toner has cured me
•MOISTURIZE HOLY SHIT •exfoliate once a week
•topical spot treatments will never compare to diluted tea tree oil
• don’t exfoliate more than 3x a week
• 8 hours of sleep will transform you
• mild exercise won’t kill you
•clean your pillow case and wipe your phone
•tie your hair out of your face
•TAKE YOUR MAKEUP OFF
•but seriously
•do a mask once a week
•vitamin c serum but never without sunscreen
•be open to new products but do your research and remember everyone’s skin is different
•your skin is an organ, please be kind to it

Elizabeth Swann is easily one of the very top few fictional characters I consider a role model alright.

And if you think about it, she was more of a pirate than Will Turner like the movies led us to believe.

She was resourceful as all hell. Almost the exact same to Jack, but with some differences. While jack had the ability to see things 10 steps ahead and make fully thought out plans and be able to just watch everything fall into place, Elizabeth had the ability to adapt and evolve with new obstacles. She could maneuver situations in ways that almost no other character could. She even outplayed Jack fucking Sparrow. On more than one occasion if I might add.

She was well educated. And not like with maths and sciences and philosophy and shit like that. I mean educated in the way that she understood exactly how others thought and how they were most likely to act, and played them accordingly. She had educated herself on the pirates code well before even thinking of setting foot on a pirate vessel, and knew it well enough to save her neck or someone else more than once.

Now on to the more “pirate-like” shit.

She didn’t originally know sword fighting, but in the first movie she goes to grab a decorative sword off the wall in her manor (which doesn’t work, for comedies sake, but moving on) with the intention of fighting the pirates ransacking her home. Not run, like literally everyone else in the manor, but actually fight. Two men versus one untrained woman I might add. What a queen. But during the second movie we learn that Will taught her the art of sword fighting. And she very clearly was an excellent student, for throughout the next two movies we see her go toe-to-toe with several badass and notorious pirates, and easily hold her own. And if she didn’t have access to a sword, she made do and made a weapon out of whatever was near her at the time.

When her wedding got crashed and she and Will arrested, Will was told to find Jack in order to gain them both freedom again, and so he set off to do so. Elizabeth on the other hand, with some assistance, was able to escape prison, and then proceeded to hold the man who arrested them at gunpoint until he gave her signed and sealed papers containing the pardon they needed.

She also later figured out that the Kracken was really after jack, and knowing he wouldn’t give himself up for the good of the others, she kissed him long enough as a distraction at the last minute to handcuff him to the mast, effectively becoming the only person to be able to kill Jack Sparrow.

She also knew the power of carefully made lies and crafted deception. She knew being a woman could get her certain places and certain perks, so she made it work in her favor. She knew the same but with being a man, so she figured out how to also make that work in her favor. She was mistake for a feared sea goddess, and instead of denying it, she rolled with it knowing it would be to her benefit. Which it did, considering it then aided in her achieving the status as captain of a pirate ship later on, and in effect earning her a place as a Pirate Lord. And then was voted in as the Pirate King.

She used every piece of knowledge and tools accessible to her as intelligently as she could. She crafted lies and deceptions to work to the advantage of herself and/or her companions. And she never apologized for these actions or for being anyone but herself.

Will thought and planned more in reference to his heart or sometimes rash feelings. Elizabeth was an analyzer and thought and planned through both logic and impeccable gut feeling.

Elizabeth Swann was one of the best pirates in this whole series, and no one can tell me any different.

Religion is Complicated

gif is not mine

Title: Religion is Complicated

Pairing: Lucifer x Reader

Word Count: 1,583

Warnings: angst, and small amounts of fluff

A/N: This was requested by an anon! I hope you all enjoy Satan Sunday <3 <3 Feedback is welcomed and appreciated! I love you all so much! <3

The rain pelted your clothes as you sat on the curb outside your house.  You weren’t sure where you were going to go.  Your family had always been strict with their religion and their rules.  You didn’t mean to upset them with your opinion.  Apparently having an opinion was earned in your home.  You realized this a little too late.

Tears streamed down your face as you sat in the rain.  It didn’t matter what happened, you now had nowhere to live, nowhere to eat, and nowhere to bathe.  This had to be one of the worst days of your life.

“Religion can be so complicated,” an unfamiliar voice uttered, as a tall man towered over you.  His hair was blond and his eyes were blue.  He was wearing jeans and a brown shirt with a green over shirt on top of it.  “I broke too many rules once.  My father kicked me out too.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

You are one of my favorite Bellarke writers! Was hoping you can do a prompt about Bellarke trying to drink each other under the table. Or maybe something to do with Drunk! Bellarke

Drunk bellarke, coming right up.

Clarke readjusted her grip on the whiskey bottle and waited.  Bellamy opened his door and immediately his face went from confused to annoyed.  “What are you doing here?”

Clarke pushed his door open and shouldered her way in.  “We’re fixing this,” she announced.

“Fixing what?  And I don’t remember inviting you in, princess,” he said, but he shut the door behind her anyway.  Clarke thumped the bottle down on his table and started opening cabinets until she found shot glasses.

“You and me.  Octavia said she’s going to kill me if we don’t start getting along, so whatever our shit is with each other, we’re going to deal with it.”  She inspected the shot glasses to make sure they were clean— they were, and Bellamy sent a dark look her way for doubting him— and nodded at his table.  “Well?  Sit,” she said, and Bellamy kicked out a chair and flopped into it with ill-humor.

“You know this is my house, right?” he said as she poured each of them a shot.  Clarke ignored him and threw hers back.  “So what are we doing?” he asked, resigned.  “Or are we just going to drink until we don’t hate each other?”

“That’s roughly the plan, yeah,” she said, her eyes watering a little.  She poured herself another shot and waited for Bellamy to take his before topping him off.  “First of all, I don’t hate you.”  Bellamy snorted and she tamped down her irritation.  “I don’t,” she insisted.  “I find you aggravating.  There’s a difference.”

Bellamy cut her a look over the top of his shot glass and sighed.  “I don’t hate you either,” he gritted out.  “Do I have to do this straight?  Can we have chasers?”

“I didn’t bring any, what do you have?”

“Nothing that will work with whiskey.  You seriously didn’t bring a chaser?”

“I didn’t think you’d need one.”

Bellamy closed his eyes in frustration and sighed again.  “Okay, so we don’t hate each other.  We’ve established that.  Now what?”

Clarke shrugged.  “Tell me something about yourself.”  They had to have common ground somewhere, she figured.  She had just never bothered to try and find it, but Octavia and Raven had told her on no uncertain terms that she and Bellamy had to stop bickering or there would be hell to pay.  Booze was the easiest way to bond with someone, so here she was.

It was a plan, at least.  Not a good one, but a plan.

Bellamy, however, was doing his best to sink her plan before it got off the ground. “Tell you what?  You know me.”  He took his second shot and she poured him another one.

She swallowed a groan of annoyance.  “I don’t know, something.  Something that will make me like you.”  This shot of whiskey went down easier, but it still burned in her chest.

“I thought you already said you did.”

“No, I said I didn’t hate you.  Again, there’s a difference,” she retorted, but found a tiny smile tugging at the corner of her lips.  She fought it, but it seemed to her like his eyes were dancing with amusement.

“Okay…I went to senior prom with pink nail polish on because Octavia wanted to help me get ready and I wouldn’t let her put my hair in braids.  Your turn.  Tell me something that will make me like you.”

Clarke couldn’t fight her smile much longer.  “I got suspended my freshman year of high school for calling a teacher a bigot.”

“You got suspended for that?”

“It was supposed to just be detention, but I organized a protest instead of going.  I doubled down so they did too.”

His smile flashed, and she noticed— not for the first time— how handsome he was.

**

Two hours later, they were officially friends but Bellamy’s floors had started to roll up and down like waves.  Clark stumbled out of his bathroom and tripped halfway down the hall, knocking her shoulder against the wall before tumbling to the ground.

“Shit, are you okay?” he yelled and came careening around the corner only to trip on the rug himself.  He landed next to her on his stomach and she burst into giggles.  He started laughing too and slowly they pushed themselves back into a seated position, Clarke propped against one wall and Bellamy against the opposite one.

“I should go home,” she hiccup-laughed.  “I’m drunk.”

Bellamy’s eyebrows shot up in mock-surprise.  “You’re drunk?  Since when?”

“I’ll call an uber, where’s my phone?” she said, but made no move to stand up.  It was nice to sit like this where she had an unobstructed view of him.

“You shouldn’t call uber, that’s dangerous,” Bellamy stumbled over dangerous, his dark eyes glassy and unfocused.  Just yesterday she probably would have been annoyed with the way he said that; declarative, like she couldn’t take care of herself.  But now she heard the concern that lurked just under the surface.

She waved her hand at him.  “It’s fine.  Murphy works for uber.”

“Exactly.  Murphy works for Uber.  Come on, you can stay here.”  Bellamy stood up and offered her a hand.

“Do I get to sleep in your bed?” she asked, and something deep inside of her stirred a little.

“Not a chance.  I’ve got a couch though,” he said, and she took his hand to let him pull her up.  He pulled a little too hard and she ended up bumping into him.  His chest felt broad and strong, warm under her hands.  Bellamy threw an arm over her shoulders.  “Come on, the couch is this way,” he said, and she leaned into his chest as they walked.  Sober, she might have called it a nuzzle.  Drunk, it was just…something that happened.

Bellamy pressed his cheek against the top of her head and squeezed her shoulder, and Clarke wondered if she’d managed to fix them just a little too well.

anonymous asked:

This is probably a extremely dumb question but how does one draw carefree? I am just so insanely stressed about my art and how it looks, so I literally can't even let myself doodle fun goofy things because my mental state is always telling me "that isn't art" i am just so stresssssed HOW DOES ONE NOT STRESS SO MUCH ?

no this is a really good question!! but it’s a tough one to answer because there isn’t a simple answer, like there’s not really a trick to it! but i’ll do my best to give a helpful answer!

i think a lot of this has to do with the relationship that you have with your art. i’ve met a lot of different kinds of people in art school, but there are a lot of people who feel this immense stress about drawing, and it seems like most of the time it’s because they put too much of themselves into their work! it’s this mindset of “drawing is stressful because if it comes out badly then that reflects on ME poorly.” but this isn’t true! if you find that you are taking your artwork so seriously to the point where the success of a piece is defining your worth, then it’s not a healthy relationship and you need to reevaluate it.

great artists can make bad stuff! not everything you make can be great, it’s impossible. all the fabulous artists that inspire you make ugly stuff too, they just don’t release those things into the public for you to see haha! they put out their best stuff!

you cannot let making bad things scare you away from making art and you can’t let it suck the enjoyment out of it. it’s easier said than done of course, but you have to consciously try to think differently! as you are working, you must tell yourself in your head that making something bad will not break you as an artist. if something’s not coming out great, then it’s fine! you will make something great in the future. no amount of time drawing is wasted–it’s all practice to help you improve, even if it’s happening so slowly that you can’t see it

ask yourself why making something bad bothers you to the point that it makes art stressful! are you trying to impress yourself? are you trying to impress other people? is art acting in place of self-worth? are you relying on art to be ‘that thing’ that defines you, that you’re good at, that makes you special? are your standards too high? why must every drawing be ‘art’? why can’t it just be a drawing? or a warm up? 

you need to distance yourself from your work. your relationship with art needs to be more casual! that doesn’t mean you can’t be passionate, but you cannot be dependent or obsessive about it to the point where you no longer love it and it becomes a source of stress for you. it’s kind of like relationships with people in that way! you don’t need more stress in your life!!

you also need confidence in your work. i don’t know if you make art as a hobby or if you would like to make it your career someday, but in order to enjoy it as a hobby or to be successful in your career, you NEED confidence! you need to feel confident that you make good work and that if you make something bad it doesn’t rip you apart because you can just try again another day and you can make something great!

i’ve honestly never felt this immense stress about making art that you’re feeling, but i can understand it in a different kind of way. art would become less enjoyable for me the more of a perfectionist i let myself be about it. so i taught myself how to loosen up (which is a separate topic) and how to stop caring so much! i told myself it doesn’t really matter. who cares!! i told myself i’d make something i liked more another day and had the confidence to believe it. i looked at artists that i really loved who didn’t work so tightly and they embraced fluid stuff and things that don’t have to look like highly rendered masterpieces. 

i’m trying to give you things to DO in order to change your mindset, but it’s not really that simple. like i do think that a lot of it is you CONSCIOUSLY trying to think differently, like thinking of more positive things when you catch yourself thinking negative things, but i also think this is something that takes time to change! it’s a very personal process that no one can tell you how to go through. gaining confidence in your work can take a long time for some people and you can’t just flip a switch to make it happen. as you grow and develop i think it will become easier!

i really hope this could be of some help to you!! let me know if you have any questions and i’ll add more to this if i think of anything else :o

EDIT: another helpful thing is to put up work that you are proud of around your workspace!! seeing things that you made that you still love and are proud of will help remind you that you CAN make great things and if you did it once you can do it again :) 

Different Forms of Magick

Magick can come in various forms, with various techniques and uses. There is no right or wrong form, just whatever works best for you. You may find you want to use few, many or even all forms you encounter. There’s no limit. The only thing I would say is fear or doubt of your own ability may not provide the best results when working.

I’m going to list some, though I am in no way an expert on all, nor do I know all forms magick takes. But at the very least, I hope this will be an interesting if not useful read.

• Colour Magick - some would say this is one of the simplest forms of magick. It is often used together with others, but can be effective when used alone. Colour can enhance or change moods and emotions, it can be used to represent your goal and even something as simple as dressing your alter in a specific colour can have an effect.

• Herb magic - this can also be used alongside many other forms, for instance with talismans and amulets. The oil from herbs can be used to dress yourself or candles. You can even combine many herbs and oils together to create the desired effect.

• Candle magick - one of the oldest and simplest forms of magick, they can be used in many ways. They can be used to attract or repel, used as an offering, used to form your circle, to represent elements when placed using different colours and locations, or even just to represent the element of fire solely.

• Crystal magick - crystals and stones have their own energies and can be used in many ways. They can be used for protection, healing, enhancement, enchantment, to aid in meditation any many more ways. Even ordinary stones can be charged for use in different ways, an example would be rune stones.

• Knot magick - strangely although this is a simple and versatile form, I’ve found few people know of it. It can be used in weaving, knitting, crocheting, just plain knots or intricate knots. You can use anything that can be made into a knot, whether you choose rope, ribbon, cord, wool, string. At its simplest it’s knots in a cord, but you can make it more intricate with uses of different colours, shapes, changing the pattern in places and even weaving in symbols.

• Representational magick - magick is ever changing and flowing, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to add this or not, but history is important and unfortunately a lot has been lost. Representational magick can now be used to describe what you’re using a tool or ingredient for, an example would be that a purple candle is used to represent spiritual power. But there was a time, if not still, that it was used to describe a form all of it’s own. A good example would be the use of poppets, dolls fashioned by the witch to represent a person. With witch hunting and bad portrayal in media this has come to be seen as a negative practice, when it can be used for many things.

• Symbolic magick - unlike representational magic which would use items, this uses shapes, sigils and symbols. They can be used to represent anything, and while there are many you may know as standard, planetary for example, you yourself are free to create your own. Many years ago when a witch would have to hide their workings, they would even come to develop their own alphabet for their book of shadows.

• Elemental magic - with this magic the elements are called upon to add power to workings. You may find yourself favouring one in particular, and it may not be one that would be traditionally fitting for you. For example I am a Gemini, typically an air sign, but I favour working with fire.

• Talisman, amulet and charm magick - this uses a lot of other forms. There are many uses for them, luck and protection being very well known. They are fashioned as jewellery, carried around in a pouch and can even be made into key chains and phone charms. This form of magic can be as simple as a necklace made with a single stone or as intricate as you like, including symbols, containers for herbs many different stones that compliment each other, use of colour and different metals, even the shape it takes can have an effect.

• Divination magick - divination magick can come in many different forms. From tarot, scrying, crystal balls, palmistry to tea leaves and many more. You may find one works better for obtaining answers than another, it’s not uncommon to find one is more successful for you personally. Most people will think of it as “future telling” thanks to how media has portrayed it, but that is just one aspect of it. You can use it to seek answers, to find things that are lost, and to find information to guide you. You may choose to use to obtain the meaning behind dreams. There are many uses besides seeing the future, and you may find you use divination in a completely different way to others.

☆☆Thank you for reading, and please let me know if there’s any forms you think I should add☆☆

the thing that irritates me the most about bismuth’s arc is that rose bubbles her basically for eternity? how is bubbling someone in a place no one can access and not telling anyone about it any different from shattering the gem? rose might as well have killed bismuth, so i don’t understand why she’s preaching about how the gems shouldn’t shatter anyone when she locks up her friend for forever?

salemmacabre  asked:

Hey ^_^ I was just wondering if you know of any reliable websites to buy herbs (and other witchy items) in bulk from? The organic markets near me are so expensive and the mega-marts are way too far. Any help at all is highly appreciated. Thanks :)

OOOOOOOOOOOO GURL ~

Originally posted by disneyboost

From one witch to another, I’m on this website RIGHT NOW thats got the best prices for bulk herbs I’ve ever seen. 

Monterey Bay Spice Company or http://www.herbco.com/ is the name. Low priced hearbs, teas, and oils with low shipping is their game, I’m telling you girl. They have different versions of each spice, oragnic, powdered, cut and stifed. It’s beautiful. 

Of course you can go to different etsy shops or amazon sellers, but if you want one website that carries all the good, essential herbs (for a really good price) http://www.herbco.com/ is the place.

The story of how you met: a study in scarlet

In a way, Anderson was right; the case of Hope—Jefferson, Jeff the cabbie, and Sherrindford—was about revenge. Rache, German for revenge; Rachel, it’s not a name. If we are to begin from the beginning, the real beginning, a study in scarlet shall be conducted then. Scarlet as in red, in blood, and in Rache i.e. all things German.

I’ve noted in several of my meta posts that series 4 was about the past – events that happened but certain details went unnoticed or seemed inconsequential at the time. Reality perceived differently, or perhaps, incomplete. Pink, a lighter shade of red. A Study in Pink, the pink lady, Jeff Hope, Moriarty; A Study in Scarlet, the lady in red, Culverton Smith, Faith? No. Eurus? No.

Scarlet. Roses are Red. Rosamund?

It has always been about John Watson. Ever since day one.

Keep reading

Need You Now

Originally posted by soluscheese

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,505

Warnings: cursing, some angst, some smut, some fluff

FEEDBACK IS MUCH APPRECIATED 

(A/N: this is kind of, kind of not based off of Need You Now by Lady Antebellum)

Keep reading

Old Friends (7/7)

this is it guys !  I hope you guys like it ! xoxo

Summary: y/n and Sam Wilson have been neighbors since she moved to NewYork . When Sam started being an avenger they drifted, just random texts or calls . That was until the events between Steve, Bucky and Tony.  Things are all cleared now, everyone is back at the tower and/or avengers facility, including Bucky. But what happens when the reader shows up at the facility looking for Sam?

Pairings: Sam Wilson x reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Avengers x reader

Warnings: smut, violence, angst, swearing


  You slowly open your eyes and are met with brown eyes staring right back at you. You let out a groan and try to move, but you realize you’re strapped down to a medical table.The last thing you remember is being wheeled into what looked like a science lab. It was pristine white and looked like your old dentist’s office. There was a side tray filled with different medical tools, a tank with a mask attached, and a bright hanging light over it. You were wheeled under the light and the mask was placed over your face, then everything went black.

 "What the hell did you do to me?“ Your voice was raspy; you assume you’ve been out a while.

 "Well Kitten, we took care of some of your injuries from the crash. You’re welcome.” His voice was calm but arrogant at the same time.

 "Don’t fucking call me that. Wait until I get out of here, Rumlow. I swear to God I will kill you.“ You push against the restraints but they don’t budge. Your eyes still feel heavy and your body is ridden with exhaustion. You know you need to fight back and buy yourself some time.

 "Awh, I thought you like being called Kitten, it seems like it when Barnes says it.” A smirk plays on his lips, and you send him a glare.

How the fuck would he know that!?

  “Don’t you want to know how I know that? Or how I knew the jet was leaving the tower, with you in it?”

  You roll your eyes, “Well I feel like you’re going to tell me any way, but go ahead, enlighten me.“

  He moves himself so he’s leaning his elbow against the table above your head. He twirls a piece of your hair as he starts speaking, "I had some friends that made an appearance at Stark’s party you attended not too long ago. They left behind some very advanced presents in the tower.” Son of a bitch. How did Tony not know he got bugged? “So you see, I’ve witnessed a lot. I saw you and Barnes on the balcony, I’ve seen the team watch movies. I’ve seen everything.” His tone is hard now, but he’s still twirling your hair while he just looks at you .

 "So you’re Ross’s bitch now? You needed an upgrade since Pierce is six feet under, huh?  How are you even alive? Didn’t Wanda blow your sorry ass to pieces? And what’s with  the arm? I hate to break it to you, but it looks way better on Buck.“ You let out a tight laugh. He moves and leans back in his chair.

"So many questions darling. I guess I can tell you before the fun starts. He pauses to wink at you. Fucking Hell. What a sick bastard.

  "I am no one’s bitch, you were a threat to exposing Hydra’s new order, so you have to be dealt with. Never underestimate Hydra; the man Wanda killed was an agent that was manipulated to mimic my appearance. A few minutes with a blowtorch, and he looked like the one that was smashed under a building. Thanks to Hydra, my face was 90% healed, only thing I lost under that damn building was my arm.” He wiggles his metal fingers at you, you feel a wave of nausea hit you like a truck.

 "Oh honey, it’ll be okay. I’ll take care of you better than the soldier ever could. After all, I am his replacement.“ Of course they made a new soldier, how the fuck did no one find out about this?

 "Oh please, you will never hold a candle to Barnes, in his soldier days or now. He will always be better than you. Where are we now? You think the team won’t find me wherever you’ve hidden me?”

  He releases an evil laugh and he runs his fingers on the side of your face, caressing it. “They won’t find you Kitten. We are at an unmarked base in Australia,. No one’s going to look for you here. You’re stuck with me now, Y/n.” Of fucking course, I’ve always wanted to go to Australia, and now that I’m here I’m stuck with Hydra. You’ve got to be kidding me. This just proves that everything in Australia is deadly.

 The door to the lab swings open and a man in a lab coat walks in holding a laptop. He sets it on the table in front of you and Rumlow and pulls open the computer, starting the webcam up. You can see yourself; you had been changed into scrubs, and have a nasty cut across your cheek and your body is littered in bruises and cuts. You don’t see anything majorly wrong with you, so you look over to Brock.

  “What’s with the webcam? Thinking of starting your own video series? How to become  a douchey Scumbag, by Brock Rumlow.” You snort at yourself, but Rumlow doesn’t look amused. He leans toward you, taking your jaw in his metal hand and squeezing it tightly.

“Watch yourself Princess, I don’t want to have to start the show without my audience.”   What the fresh Hell is he talking about, an audience? He’s got more screws loose than Ultron. He releases your jaw, and returns to his seat next to your medical table. He pushes a tray out from behind him that you didn’t see before. You catch a glimpse of what it contains, and take in a sharp breath. It was filled with a variety of different, sharp blades. I’m screwed.

  “You really are just a ball of attitude. I don’t know how they deal with you. We’re going to make a little call to your friends in New York. Let them suffer a little.” This is perfect, if I can give them any sort of hint of where I am they’ll find me.

  You think about anything that could hint at Australia without letting Brock know what you’re doing. You come up blank; there’s nothing you can do to save yourself. I’m going to die here, awesome. I didn’t even get to fuck Barnes yet, what a cruel way to go.

 Rumlow makes his way to the computer, speaking with one of the men that came in. Another man walks in, wheeling a different cart. You can’t really tell what it is, but just assume it’s bad.

 "Did you find a way to get into the Starks receiver?“

  One of them nods, and hits the call button. Before you know it, Tony’s face appears on the screen.

 "TONY!” You start to yell, but Brock turns to you and, without warning, swings his metal hand onto your cut cheek. You can feel blood start to come out of the corner of your mouth, you spit the blood on the floor and laugh.

 "You hit like a bitch.“

 "This is going to be fun.” Brock laughs before he turns to face the camera. While Brock was dealing with you, Tony must have called the team over to him. You start to squirm on the table when you realize they can all see you.

 "Surprise surprise, Avengers. Couldn’t get rid of me that easy. Y/n, aren’t you going to say hi to your friends?“ You look straight in the camera and smile as you open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off.


 "Be careful what you say, Kitten.” You see Bucky storm closer to the camera.

“Rumlow, I swear, I will find you. And when I do, you can’t imagine what I’ll do to you.” Well, now I know he’s even hot when he’s pissed. Can he just have one moment where he’s ugly? Jesus.His voice is music to your ears. Rumlow moves to the laptop, canceling out the audio on your end. You can’t hear what they are saying, but can see their mouths going.

 "They can still hear you sweetheart, say hello.“

  You look to the camera and you force the tears down, but don’t speak. Brock faces you again and drives a hard punch at your eye. You let out a sob, still keeping your silence.

  "Seems like someone’s a little camera shy. Maybe I should break her in, don’t you think?” Rumlow is sporting a sick grin as he moves to the newer cart that was wheeled in. He takes four little round pads off the top that are attached to a bunch of wires. It takes you a minute to figure out what it is, but as soon as he’s attached them to your temples and your chest, you know what they are. If I make it out of this, I swear I’m going to kill him 20 different fucking ways.

 He moves in front of the camera and smiles, waving the remote in his hand. Before you know it, you feel mind numbing pain shooting through every inch of you. You can’t contain the scream that ripples through you.

 "Keep talking to them. Now,“ he instructs, and you comply.  

 You let out a small sob. "Guys, I can’t hear you, but it’ll be okay.” Another lighter shock makes its way through you. "Do me a favor, whatever happens to me, know it’s not your fault. It’s this dickbag’s fault.” Instead of a shock, you feel one of the blades being shoved under your collarbone.

  Another shriek falls out of your mouth. You try to focus on the computer instead of on the pain. You look and only see Bucky staring at you with what you can only describe as pure rage. You take in his surroundings, noticing seats in the background. Not just any seats though, seats with safety belts.

 Are they on the jet? THEY KNOW WHERE I AM.  A smile spreads across your face and you start laughing like a jackal. Rumlow sends another volt of electricity through you, stronger than the others. It makes your muscles lock up around your entire body, along with the feeling of pins and needles at your extremities. After a minute, you start to laugh again, making Brock come at you delivering blow after blow to your torso. You’re holding on to your consciousness, barely though. You keep laughing and it’s driving him insane.

 "You’re one crazy bitch, you know that?“

"And you’re one ugly, stupid son of a bitch, you know that?”

  He shoves his finger into the opening in your arm from the blade. You cry out, letting the tears pour down your cheeks. A smug grin makes its way to his face. You move your focus to the computer, only to notice none of the team is on the screen. Please for the love of God, be here.

  You hear Brock click the button on the remote, sending what feels like the highest volt of power through you yet.You can feel blood start dripping out of your nose from that one. After that, time starts to blur together. He stops with the shocks and starts with the blades again. He rips open the scrub top you are wearing and begins dragging the blade lightly over your abdomen and chest. Not deep enough for you to bleed to death, but painful all the same. He decides that the pain must not be high enough, because he pours some type of alcohol onto the wounds. You start screaming and pushing against your restraints until they start cutting into your body from the resistance.

Maybe they aren’t coming for me. This is how I’m going to die. Alone and in pain, at the hands of Hydra.

  Brock puts down the tools down and runs his fingers down the lines of you jaw. “What a shame, such a pretty face wasted on Barnes.”

“Go to Hell, Rumlow,” you mutter. “When they find you, you’re going to wish you died under that damn building.”

“Now that’s a little rude. You’d be dead if it wasn’t for me.” You let out a dry laugh. He twirls your hair in his fingers like before and adds, “Ross ordered a hit to kill you, not bring you in. I took it into my own hands to keep you alive and play a little bit. You’re going to made a great addition to Hydra, Kitten.”

 "Stop fucking calling me that, you psychotic asshat. I’m not your Kitten, and I’m not a Hydra agent, and I’ll never be one. Only bastards like you think what Hydra does is good. Don’t you think Ross is going to be a little peeved that you disregarded a direct order, bitch boy?“  You hear him growl and see him reach for the biggest blade on the stand. Way to go Y/n, you’re not suppose to poke the damn bear. Oh well.

Originally posted by sikanapanele


Before he could reach you, the room lights up red and an alarm blares.

  "Well that’s fucking annoying. Looks like you have company, bitch boy.” Please be them.

  He leaves the room. You don’t know how long he’s gone, but the alarm’s still screeching and the red light is starting to hurt your eyes. You hear the door open, assuming its Rumlow you laugh.

  “Good to see you still have sense of humor, Doll.” The voice doesn’t belong to Rumlow. Tears start running down your face at the sound. Bucky? Oh my god.

“Buck?” Your voice is quiet. You turn your head to see him. Please don’t be a dream.

  “It’s me, Y/n. Let’s get you out of here.” He makes his way towards you, grabbing a blade off the stand, and starts cutting your restraints. You try not to wince when the blade gets close to you, but he notices anyway. He puts a hand on your cheek lightly, “Doll, I promise that I’ll protect you and get you home.” He speaks into his comms, alerting the team he has you.

When you look up, you see Rumlow sneaking in behind him.

Your eyes widen as you shout, “Buck behind you!”

  Rumlow grabs him in a headlock, pulling him to the ground. You start trying to rip through the last of the restraints at your feet. You can hear fighting outside in the halls, and the echo of what you assume to be a shield bouncing off something. I can’t believe they found me.

  You look up to see Bucky and Rumlow in hand-to-hand combat . It looks like Bucky’s winning right now. You see him throw a set of punches at Brock, knocking him back a couple of feet. Rumlow pulls out his pistol, but Bucky knocks it out of his grip before he can shoot, sending it to the floor a couple feet away from you. Before you think of what you’re doing, you grab a blade and use what energy you have left to dive to the floor for the gun. Neither of the men notice your actions, as locked in battle as they are. Rumlow has the upper hand when you look back up. He has Barnes against the wall, his metal hand wrapped around his throat. You can see Bucky struggling, so you lunge forward. You jam the blade into Rumlow’s side. You immediately lift the gun, aiming it straight for Rumlow’s head.

  You see his shoulder start to shake, and realize he’s laughing. He drops Bucky to the ground, and Bucky starts coughing as he attempts to breathe again.

  Rumlow starts to speak as he turn around, “You dumb bitch! You think stabbing me will stop me?”

 As he turns fully towards you, you smile. “No, but this will.”

  You send four shots his way before he can even take a step towards you. Two make it into the left side of his chest, one on his right, and the last lucky shot in between his eyes. Thank God for the nerf gun wars with Sammy. His body falls to the floor with a thud. Bucky’s head snaps up to look at you. Even after you see the blood leaking out of Rumlow’s body, you get closer and release the rest of the clip into his body. You don’t realize you’re still pulling the trigger after it’s empty, until Bucky slowly takes the gun away from you. Your eyes are wide, and you’re shaking uncontrollably. Your knees give out, but Bucky catches you before you can hit the ground. You didn’t notice when Steve came in the room, nor do you know how much he saw. He looks beaten up, but you’ve see him worse. He sends you a relieved smile before Bucky asks him to take care of Rumlow while he carries you back to the jet.

 You sit on the jet with an IV attached to your uninjured arm, with the arm that was stabbed sitting in a sling. You feel like shit. The team has stayed silent since the quinjet took off. Bucky’s next to you, with his arm wrapped around your shoulders. It feels like it’s been hours, yet no one has said anything since he carried you on to the jet. 

 "How did you find me?“ Your voice sounds normal, and you distantly wonder if you’re in shock. Everyone turns to you, but it’s Tony who answers.

  "You remember those diamond earrings I bought you when you first moved in?” You nod. You haven’t taken those off since he gave them to you. But you’re not understanding why he’s asking.

 "Well…those may or may not have been tracking devices so I could see where you went when you leave the tower. Better safe than sorry, right?“ Your eyes fill with tears. You let the blanket fall off your shoulder as you push yourself up and stumble towards Tony. You throw your good arm around him, ignoring the pain, and sob into his shoulder.

  "I have never loved you more for being a creep than I do right now, Anthony Stark.” The team erupts in a fit of awkward laughter, and you join in. You make your way to every member of the team, awkwardly hugging them and thanking them. When you get to Sam, you pull him into as tight of a hug as you can. You let the tears you’ve been holding in pour out.

 "I thought I’d never see you again, Sammy.“ You sniffle and pull away from him a little.

      A couple tears make their way down his face. "You really thought Barnes or I were going to let that happen? Listen, you’re tough, but we’re the superheroes. But I guess it was impressive, for a civilian.” You roll your eyes and let out a snort of amusement. You grab Sam’s ear and tug on it hard. He lets out groan, and you hear everyone try to stifle their laughs.

  “Call me a civilian in that tone again, and I will shove your wings down your beak, Bird Boy. Did you forget who used to win all our nerf gun wars at the apartment? I’m surprised you don’t have a permanent dart indent on your forehead from those days.” He grumbles and shoos you away. Before you walk away from him, you lean up and plant a gentle kiss on his cheek.

  You go back to your seat by Bucky and take his hand in yours. You feel his eyes on you, but you don’t look his way.

  “You know Doll, you just kissed Sam before you kissed me.” You feel a blush blossom across your cheeks. Damn it, Bucky.  You turn to him, touching his cheek gently as he leans closer, pushing his lips against yours. It was a tender kiss, but you know if you don’t pull away, you’ll want it to be more. You know this isn’t the time or place for that, and honestly you’re body is already fighting not to give into the pain and exhaustion, so you pull yourself away.

  “Thank you for saving me, James,” you whisper. You don’t think anyone else heard you, but of course Tony did and just has to make a comment on it.

“Well technically I saved you too… I’ll take my kiss now.” He puckers his lips, so you decide he deserves at least a kiss on the cheek. Before you get to him, Clint cuts in.

“Technically she saved herself. She’s the one who killed Rumlow.” Oh yeah, I did that. Go me !

  You stop in your tracks, letting out a small laugh. Tony looks a little defeated while Bucky just has a proud grin on his face.

“What can I say? My girl’s a fighter.” Everyone laughs and agrees.

“Who said I’m your girl, Barnes?” You stick your one hand on your hip and glance at him. You hear a series of “ooohss” and “Damns ” from the team. He blushes and sends you a wink.

 "Who would say no to this?“ He points to his smile and body, making you roll your eyes even further into the back on your head.

  What a cheeky bastard. You walk in front of him, and sit yourself in his lap, his arms gently snaking around your waist. You smile down at him and wrap your arm around him, ignoring the pain in your torso, and place a kiss on his nose before you rest your head against his. You end up falling asleep for the rest of the ride home, cradled in his arms on his lap.


It was a couple hours before you made it back to the tower. As soon as you do, you get set in a wheelchair (this time you don’t bothering arguing against it) and pushed by Bucky down to the MedBay. When you get in, Helen is already prepared for you. 

   Helen walks over to you. "We have to stop meeting like this, Y/n.” You laugh and hug her tightly, albeit awkwardly. You can tell it catches her off guard, but she hugs you back tightly. “Come on, we have to do brain and heart scans to see if the electric shocks caused any serious damage. The we can take a look at the other wounds” You gesture for her to lead the way and Bucky pushes you in the right direction.

  After all the tests are done and everything is patched up, Helen fills you in on the results.

   “There doesn’t seem to be too much trauma. Your body had time to relax and slightly repair itself between the time the of the shocks, which helped to avoid too much serious nerve damage. And although it must of caused immense pain at the time, it doesn’t appear that Rumlow used that high of shocks on you. It’s a torture method common in Hydra for when they want to keep someone alive but still inflict pain. Your body was so exhausted that it intensified the pain of the shocks it endured.”  You’re surprised, you could have sworn the shocks were worse, but what Helen says makes sense.  Before you reply to her,  Bucky comes back into the room.

“Is she ready to go, Doc?” He asks. You manage to get up and head towards him, lacing your fingers with his when you get to him. Helen nods, and Bucky helps you to the elevator. You keep trying to rush there, but Bucky forces you to slow down. When the elevator doors shut, he chuckles.

   "A little impatient, Doll?”  Oh Barnes, you’ve got no idea what’s coming.

   You pull the emergency stop on the elevator, and turn to him. You ignore the pain in your body, and use your one hand to shove him against the back wall of the elevator. His eyes go wider than you’ve ever seen, and you just send him a sweet smile before pouncing on him. You close the space between your bodies, leaning up you run your hand up from his chest and into his hair. You can see his lips start to part, and you make your move. You push yourself up and crash your lips to his. It becomes a hungry, heated kiss. And you couldn’t be fucking happier.

Originally posted by andreipratzs

  Bucky gains the upper hand and slides his hands to the back of your thighs, signaling you to jump. You understand, and jump straight up. Your bodies are pressed together, as are your lips. You start move yourself against him,  the friction making the heat in your body intensify. You separate your lips so you both can breath. Bucky places you on your feet, and you pout at him. He lets out a chuckle and gives you a quick peck on the lips. His mouth makes its way to your neck, biting hard enough to leave a mark and then soothing the pain with a sweet kiss. He goes to slide his hands under your shirt, until he’s interrupted by Stark’s voice.

  “Listen, I know it’s been a while for you two, but some of us need the elevator for things other than sex, like ya know, transportation.” You groan and shove Bucky away. He rolls his eyes, and Tony’s voice blares through the speakers again.

  “We’re having a meeting in five minutes. Y/n, we need to know what Rumlow said while he had you. See you in the conference room, kids.”

  You restart the elevator and lean against the back wall next to Bucky. “How do we always get interrupted?” You ask. Exhaustion is starting to kick in both physically and mentally. You feel every ache in your body. Ugh, everything hurts now. The pain must be evident on your face because Bucky turns and lifts you bridal style again as the doors open.

You send him a questioning glare, he chuckles as a reply. “I’m assuming the reality of your injuries is setting in. Plus, you haven’t had a decent amount of sleep, so put that all together and you’re pretty much death walking. You were literally just slumped against the wall, Y/n.” You roll your eyes, but lean in and kiss his cheek. He blushes instantly, making you giggle.

“Don’t worry Sarg, when I’m healed I’ve got a hell of a night planned for us.” You wink, making him turn even redder. I can’t fucking wait.

  You both arrive at the conference room, and the meeting starts. You tell the team everything Rumlow said to you: about how he survived, Ross’s order, everything. When the meeting ends, Clint takes you back to Helen, suggesting she puts you in some cradle thing she created. You have no idea what it is, but you agree. You fell asleep before they even had the lid on it, but it really did help. Most of the cuts on your torso were gone, and you just had a little muscle soreness in your shoulder from the stab wound. What a life saver.  After that, you head straight to your bed and you fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.


The next day, you spend time with the entire team. No one brings up Rumlow or Ross,  it’s just a simple day of relaxing. You start to wonder what’s going to happen to Ross, but when you asked Steve about earlier he told you not to worry, that it’s being taken care of. Whatever that means. By the end of the day, you’re exhausted again. You drag Bucky to bed with you. He lays down on your bed, but instead of laying next to him, you crawl over and straddle him.

   He raises an eyebrow. “What do you think you’re doing sweetheart?” He asks with a playful tone.

 You answer by smirking and giving him a wink. You trace the lines of his chest, then slide your hands under his shirt. You can feel his muscles tense under your hands as you feel your way around his body. You lean over, hovering your lips over his for a moment, before connecting them in a passionate kiss. The kiss starts of passionate from the start, your tongues moving with each other, but it doesn’t seem to be enough for either of you right now. You move from his lips down to his neck, kissing all the way until you reach his shirt. He leans up, removing his shirt, and you follow suit. Within seconds, you’re naked and on top of him, grinding your hips down onto his, still teasing him. He rolls you both over so he’s on top now.

"Teasing isn’t very nice, Y/n.” You look up at him and bite your lip. That sends him into overdrive .He dips his head and takes one of your nipples into his mouth while he gently massages the other breast with his hand. He switches off between the two, making you squirm and moan. You weave your hands in his hair, tugging on it

.He lets go of your nipple with a loud pop, and looks up at you.

  “Bucky please.” It comes out as a needy whisper. Your hair is splayed over your pillows and your lips are swollen and parted.

  “I think this is my new favorite view,” he mumbles as he moves his hand down between your legs, sliding his fingers into your folds. “Is all this for me doll?” You whimper and nod. He slides his fingers through again, then slowly enters one finger into you.

  You squirm, wanting more. “Bucky please! I can’t take it! Do something!”

  He chuckles and starts moving his finger faster, adding another finger, while his thumb circles your clit. By now, you’re arching your back into him, trying to move your hips faster. He slows his fingers down, then pulls them out. He opens his mouth to ask you something, but before he could say anything you beat him there.


 "I have a birth control implant, so stop teasing me already!“ It comes out more desperate than you want, but at this point you don’t care. 

  Bucky leans down, putting his lips to yours in a slow and passionate kiss. He begins gliding the tip of his cock back and forth through your folds. You’re about to start begging him again, but he guides his hard cock to your entrance.

  "Oh fuck,” you moan. “James…” He pushes his cock in slowly. You could feel it stretching you, and he waited a moment to adjust before starting to slowly thrust into you. It isn’t long before you’re begging him for more. He starts snapping his hips into you hard but slow, and you try to control the moans that slips out. You start moving your hips in sync with his. You can tell he’s trying to be careful, holding back so he doesn’t hurt you. But your wound so tightly, you need him to fucking you, not making love to you. That could happen later.

“I’m not going to break. Don’t hold back, Sergeant.” That must have set something off in him, because the gentleness is gone in seconds. He rolls over and you straddle him. You fully sink down onto his hard cock. Once you start bouncing and fucking yourself on his dick, every thought leaves your mind. You smirk down at him, placing your hands on his chest to keep yourself up. His hands are on your hips, holding you tight enough that you’re sure there will be bruises, as he guides you on his length.

  “Fuck Kitten, you look so good like this. You feel so good wrapped around me,” Bucky growls. He starts thrusting up into you as you ride him, hitting your g spot over and over. A loud moan rips its way out of you, and you start moving faster.

  He leans up, and starts swirling his tongue around your nipple a couple times before laying back down. He starts pounding into you, faster and harder than anything you’ve ever experienced. All that’s coming out of your mouth are whimpers. The pressure keeps building within you. All it takes is him snaking his hand down to rub your clit  to bring you right to the edge.

  You let out a loud moan. “Buck, I’m about to…”

  “Come for me, Doll.” He thrusts into you harder. Your vision clouds over as you reach your climax. You feel heat rush through your body and your heart hammers in your chest. You scream Bucky’s name and distantly hear him moan in response.

  “Oh God, Y/n, I’m going to cum.” You feel his muscles tense and he lets out a string of curses as he comes undone inside you.

 You both take a moment to breathe before you slowly pull yourself off him, and flop yourself face first back onto your bed.

  You can hear him chuckle, and you turn your body to face him.

  “I’m pretty surprised no one cockblocked us this time,” He says. You let out a laugh but,  before you can respond, Sam’s voice makes its way to you.

"Are you done now, Sergeant.” Oh my God, Sam.

  You start laughing hysterically, poor Bucky is as red as a tomato. Sam and Steve walk into the room, and Steve is almost as red as Buck. You hurry to cover yourself with a blanket, before bursting out laughing. Sam just wiggles his eyebrows at you before speaking.

  “Next time, put a fucking sock in the hallway or something. Warn a man, you animals. And get Stark to give you your own damn floor. I don’t need to see this.”

  You roll your eyes, ” Is there something you two needed? Or were you just coming for the show?“ You wink at Steve, he looks down at his feet. Bucky and Sam let out obnoxious laughs. Poor Steve, he’s too innocent to be friends with these two.

  "We just wanted to see if you guys are down for a movie night, but if you’re busy-”

You interrupt Steve before he can finish, “I love movie nights! We’re in.”

  They leave so you and Bucky can get yourselves ready. After you’re both dressed and on the elevator, Bucky slides his hand into yours.

“Hey Y/n?” His voice has a shy tone to it that surprises you. You’ve never really seen him be shy.

“Yeah Buck?”

“I love you.”

  You  feel your eyes go wide at what he said. You squeeze his hand, and let a shaky breath go while you try not to cry.

 "I love you too, James.“ You smile at one another before getting off the elevator to join your friends. You look out at the common room and see the group that’s become your family recently, and you can’t imagine life without them anymore. This is all I’ll ever need.

Originally posted by relationshipaims

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random thoughts/reminders about percabeth

Annabeth was without her best friend for 6 months and tbh probably everything reminded her of him

percy MISSED PROM. 

THAT MEANS ANNABETH HAD TO WATCH ALL OF THOSE PROMPOSALS AT HER SCHOOL WHILE HE WAS MISSING

percy saw annabeth’s face when looking at aphrodite

annabeth kissed percy for the first time and told him to be careful and then he immediately blew up Mount St. Helens, woke Typhon and went missing for two weeks 

percy turned into a guinea pig and annabeth will probably never let him forget

percy showed up to his own funeral and it was pretty much the funniest thing ever

percy and annabeth have never experienced as much shit as they have with any other person. I mean sure there were other people with them, but both of the them experienced ALL OF THAT SHIT together pretty much 100% of the time. 

no one will ever know the full story. 

probably every single person in existence cried at their wedding 

just imagine their vows. imagine

Unpleasant Situation

Summary: Phil is going to have dinner with his mum’s new boyfriend and his son for the first time. Turns out Dan is his son and they remember each other from a drunk hookup, a month before. They both still think the other is hot but their situation is not ideal at all. 

Written for this prompt

Words: 4.1k

Read it on AO3

A/N: After months of absence, I’m back with this oneshot! I really do apologise for taking so long to write something. My muse was completely nonexistent and i’ve always been a firm believer that it’s better to write nothing at all then to force myself to write something that ends up being shit. Hopefully, you’ll find this oneshot to be worth the wait. 

P.S. From the summary it may sound as if there’s smut. Don’t read this if you’re looking for loads of smut as it’s only mentioned throughout the story then there is a short smutty scene in the end.

“Do I really have to come to this dinner mum?” Phil whined, completely uncaring of how he sounded.

His mother had been dating Christopher Howell for about two months and she seemed to be convinced that he was the one. Phil was tired of hearing the same thing over and over again every time she met someone new so he tended to ignore her until things stopped working out and he could stop hearing all about her perfect boyfriend. Well, at least until the next one comes along.

This time, his mother decided to ruin his perfect plan of ignoring everything she had to say about her new relationship by organising a dinner for him to meet her boyfriend and his son. His mother was in countless of relationships before this one but Phil never had the opportunity to meet them. He couldn’t say he was terribly disappointed about it.

“Philip stop complaining and whining like a little child, I raised you better than that,” snapped Silvia, finally getting tired of all his complaining. Phil glared but he didn’t say anything as he knew that he was whining.

Phil wasn’t usually this difficult with his mother but he just didn’t have any interest in meeting this Christopher guy. He didn’t resent his mum for going back out there and choosing to see different people after the mess that was his dad. He just had no interest in meeting said people when he knew the relationship would end up going in flames sooner or later. It always did.

Silvia knew him well and so she didn’t have any problems figuring out what the real issue was. “Look Phil, I know you don’t like meeting the guys I’m going out with and I don’t blame you but Chris is different, I can tell. That’s why I want you to meet him. Can’t you just do this one little favour for me? Besides, you won’t be alone. His son will be there and he’s around your age. It will be fun, I promise.”

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