quran-verses

long term relaysh otayuri hcs

(aka I need a break from writing the HaC sequel.)

  • yuri never, ever wears his own sweatshirts. otabek will do laundry and find that all of his pullovers are stretched out from yuri pulling them over his wrists and fraying the sleeves with his teeth. 
  • (he doesn’t mind)
  • if viktor and yuuri are like that couple who are a cross between your still-in-love parents and first-year newlyweds, otabek and yuri are like that the couple you might not even realize are together until you notice that they’re always within two feet of each other - that when anyone calls one of their names, they look over in sync, the exact same expression on their faces. they move in constant unconscious counterpoint. once you see it, you can’t unsee it
  • otabek insists–endlessly, strenuously–that he’s not a fan of pda. yuri has no strong feeling on the matter but it does give him a feeling of superiority of yuuri and viktor. “we’re more restrained,” he says to mila. “yura,” mila says, "staring at someone like they’re the last glass of water in a desert counts as pda. it fucking counts, yura.”
  • otabek needs alone days. and when they make a habit of it, yuri finds that he does, too. 
  • yuri’s emotions are like air: they expand to fill any given space. if you’re in the room with him for more than ten seconds, you know what yuri plisetsky is thinking. like, you really, really know. in time, with otabek, he learns to focus that intensity. he becomes amazed at how a simple “i love you” at the perfect moment can stop beka in his tracks. he wields the knowledge like a weapon.
Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, And whose hope is the LORD. For he shall be like a tree planted by the waters, Which spreads out its roots by the river, And will not fear when heat comes; But its leaf will be green, And will not be anxious in the year of drought, Nor will cease from yielding fruit.
—  Jeremiah 17:7-8 (NKJV)

Konoha Academy has flat screens mounted on the wall. Does that mean they didn’t have to suffer thru the squeaky wheeled tv stand-era?

Did any kid have to experience the simultaneous joy but fear upon seeing that stand in the classroom when you walk in? Wondering if it meant a looooong boring film you had to take notes on, or maybe there was a substitute teacher who was gonna slap in a tape of Bill Nye??! (bill! bill! bill!)

luthorslesbian  asked:

Ot4, Z ( make up your own). Lexa has her own part of the closet bc she never really had anything hers, did you ever mention how it came up between them? Like, did Lexa bring it up? Or did smth else happen? Bedazzle me with your writing skills, maestro ;D

Clarke is standing in front of Lexa in nothing but a t-shirt and underwear.

Lexa is frowning, her face scrunched up and there’s a twist of fluttering panic in her stomach that has nothing to do with her half naked girlfriend trying to talk her way into her lap.

Both of them are flustered and frustrated.

They officially moved into the new house three weeks ago and this isn’t the first time Lexa’s felt this tightening in her chest and the need to shrink into herself. Her things are mixin in with Clarke and Octavia’s, the house starting to feel like a place that they all live. They carve out little corners, pockets of themselves, bits of compromise. Lexa knows she’s mourning the loss of her autonomy. In her apartment what little she had was hers, and only hers.

Clarke is in Lexa’s t-shirt and Lexa can’t quite articulate what it is that’s making her frown because Clarke has amazing legs and there’s light smile on her lips and it’s clear that she wants to be in Lexa’s lap… or she did before Lexa crossed her arms over her chest and halted the whole flirtation.

“I’m just not in the mood,” Lexa stands, holding in her place in the book she had been reading with her finger and trying not to brush up against Clarke who doesn’t move back. She can barely make it past her without touching. She shivers with Clarke reaches out to catch her at the elbow.

“You’ve been hot and cold all week, Lexa.” She pulls gently at Lexa’s arm but doesn’t hold on tight. If Lexa wanted to pull away she could with little effort.

It feels silly and petty and pointless. She just needs to get used to sharing a space and things with someone that isn’t Anya. Just needs to trust them. She does, but there’s a part of her that is hung up. Lexa reaches out and tugs at the edge of the shirt Clarke is wearing, a simple white tee with a pocket on the front, nothing fancy. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

“If you wanted the shirt off you could have just said,” Clarke winks but her smile is soft and apologetic. She crosses her arms and pulls off the t-shirt tossing it across the back of the couch. “Better?”

“Clarke…” Lexa’s gazy flicks down, she can’t help it. “That’s wasn’t my point.” She frowns trying to focus on what her point was, but Clarke’s bra is lace, pale cream only a shade darker than her skin.

Clarke takes a step forward and catches her fingers through Lexa’s belt loops, pulling her close. “Lexa.” She’s trying to distract the melancholy out of her and she isn’t certain it will work.

“It’s just…” her gaze flicks over her shoulder to the shirt on the back of the couch. She should let it go and just pay attention to Clarke, but the memory is sitting there of being eight and having her clothes taken by the other girls in the group home, clothes Anya had spent her money on, being told she should share by their caretakers. She inhales sharply and it turns into a sniffle.

“Whoa, okay, no something is actually bothering you.” Clarke leans past Lexa and grabs the blanket off the back of the couch and wraps it around herself like a towel. Panic rises in her chest and she tries to push it down. Something being wrong doesn’t mean Lexa will shut down again or run. Maybe if she gets Lexa to talk she can stop whatever this that is happening.

“I just need to adjust.” Lexa shrugs.

Clarke nudges her back onto the couch to sit down and slips in next to her, brushing a stray tear from her cheek, “Talk to me? This is bugging you.” She presses her lips to Lexa’s shoulder and  threads their fingers together. “Is this about me wearing your shirt?”

Lexa stops herself from shrugging because she doesn’t really want to push Clarke away but the words stick in her throat. She talks around it. “You can Octavia share almost all your clothes. I know it’s just what you do. There are some things I don’t see her wear and vise versa… but there’s little that is distinctly either of yours… and now I’m part of that.”

Clarke lunges forward wrapping herself around Lexa, kissing her soundly. When she pulls away she sighs with relief. This is something fixable. “Lexa, if you want your own part of the closet that we don’t touch all you have to do is say so.” She presses her lips to Lexa’s forehead. “Except the fuzzy socks, those are too good to give up.”

When she pulls back Lexa is looking up at her with a small open wonder.

“That’s it?” She slips her hand under the edge of the blanket and finds her way to lay it against Clarke’s bare waist.

“We can talk with O when she gets back from her run with Raven.” Clarke shifts so she’s straddling Lexa’s lap. “Whatever you need. This is our house.”

Lexa leans forward, pressing a kiss to Clarke’s sternum, a smile on her lips. “It is, isn’t it?”

“Yep, you’re stuck with us now,” Clarke laughs softly and lifts Lexa’s chin with a gentle touch.

Lexa wraps her arms firmly around Clarke’s waist, the smile on her lips wrinkling her nose. “Good,” she says softly. “I know exactly what we should do while we wait for O, and it doesn’t involve any clothes.”

Clarke’s grin widens to match Lexa’s. She opens up the blanket and tosses it over them both with a laugh. As she leans over to kiss her she whispers, “I like this idea.”

Metamorphosis

I could not bare the world to witness my unfolding;
A tethered heart hung gently on my sleeve,
The universe before me,
And beholding,
A life that I refute;
Refused to grieve.

That gentle thread that silken rope,
That quivers slightly on my wrist,
Keeps something very dear to me;
My heart wrapped in a chrysalis.

And I tried to be like you,
and I tried to be brave and apart of your world,
But you pulled at my seams just to watch me unravel;
Watch me unfurl.
My vault has cracked open as I saught out the sun to witness me fly,
With a soul that I wear on a sleeve that’s now tethered
To nothing but sky.

-a.g.case

Thank you so much @obosecker for the prompt to this peice. I hope you enjoy it, this one’s for you ❤

things we know about post-hormone therapy blair:

  • 5′6″ now
  • a dashing guy with a penchant to flirt unknowingly through compliments
  • much more confident!!  finally unlocks his dancing skill
  • has a YT channel where he uploads his choreography!!
  • might vlog if he makes it big!!
  • v sweet, still can’t cook for shit
  • does actually have higher sex drive from increased testosterone
  • still Very Blair!!  has a separate channel for abandoned place explorations
Menolak permintaan tolong dengan perkataan yang baik selalu lebih baik daripada memberikan pertolongan dengan mengucapkan kata-kata, atau melakukan sesuatu yang menyakiti orang yang akan kita tolong.
— 

“Perkataan yang baik dan pemberian maaf lebih baik daripada sedekah yang diiringi dengan sesuatu yang menyakitkan (perasaan penerimanya). Dan Allah Maha Kaya, Maha Penyantun.” (Al Baqarah: 263)

Lihat, bagaimana Islam sangat menjaga manusia, hingga kepada perasaannya!
Caught In Praise

And Mary said: “My soul magnifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.”
Luke 1:46-47

I love these verses because it shows that Mary’s whole being was caught in praise to her God. 

In every season of our soul, may we be more overwhelmed with praise and adoration for our Savior than we are with our circumstances.

Praising God elevates God, not our problems. It’s our statement of faith that He is on His throne and sovereign over every circumstance of our life. It gives us the proper perspective and a Kingdom mindset.

Anxious? Praise Him, for He is your Peace.

Discouraged? Praise Him, for He is your Strength.

Lost? Praise Him, for He is your Guide.

Confused? Praise Him, for He is your Truth.

Sometimes we believe it, sometimes we don’t, and so we keep declaring His praises until our feelings are aligned with the truth. Magnify the Lord at all times. Lift His Name up in the midst of the chaos and watch as your enemies fall and you rise up in His victory.