I’m trying to forgive myself
for all the awful things 
that have sputtered off my lips.
You are the purest light
that has ever come through the window
and I’m cracking open the skylights.
Please understand that the woman
that gave birth to me
taught me to keep my teeth bared–
that the only way to be heard
is to go for the jugular.
I’m rewiring my mouth.
My hands are desperate to mend.
This was the last thing I wanted to learn
and this heirloom anger
ends here.
—  Schuyler Peck, My Mother’s Wicked Words
Study Time


Hey babe!! Just wanted to help you out of that funk by requesting a Sam x Reader aesthetic (or a fic if you want) with Sam and the reader studying. But look at the list I just posted on my writing page. I am BURIED IN STUFF TO WRITE. Not kidding.💙💙

Author’s Note: I hope you like it babe!!💜💜

The cool breeze drifted through the opened window, blowing lightly at the pages of the essay you were writing. One book flew open and you looked at it, smirking slightly.

You heard a soft scoff from beside you and your smirk turned into a smile. You looked up to beautiful hazel eyes, gleaming from the sun’s rays seeping through the window. “Out of all the books in front of us, this one decides to go all Ghost on us.”

You chuckle slightly at his words and look back down at the book. Such cliché of a book, really. The Notebook.

“Maybe nature is trying to tell us something ,” you muttered, looking back up at Sam. “Maybe it’s time we create our own story.”

Sam smiled and leaned forward to press his lips to yours. “That would be one hell of a book.”

It sure would.

Sam Tag List:

@ellen-reincarnated1967 @fangirl-of-the-lord @end-lessnights

Forever Tag List:

@motleymoose @impalapossible @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @lucifer-in-leather @bringmesomepie56 @impala-dreamer @percywinchester27 @blacktithe7 @roxy-davenport @deanscherrypie @bellastellaluna @girl-next-door-writes @kalliravenne @neversatisfiedgirl @kcsavege4134 @xxturningsaintsintotheseaxx @docharleythegeekqueen @sis-tafics @frenchybell @imaginespnr5er @supernaturallymarvellous @vivirosexvx @loveitsallineed @obsessedwithmisha@jaycc7983 @charliebradbury1104 @deansleather @fandommaniacx @grace-for-sale @i-dont-know-how-to-write @sam-reidzugzwang @peachthatdrinkslemonade @its-my-perky-nipples @chelsea072498
Blast From The Past: Part 10

Pairing: Reader x Bucky
Word Count: 1K
Warnings: Fluff

A/N: Sorry for how short this one is! It’s a but of a filler chapter.

Feedback is always appreciated. Let me know if you want to be added to the tags list.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Your eyes flutter open as you woke. Sunlight was streaming in through your open window behind the bed, illuminating your entire room. Your heart beat quickens when you feel the weight of Bucky’s arm, draped across your waist. You grin at the memory of last night. It had been everything you had hoped for and more. You and Bucky fit together as if you were made for each other; you moved in sync.

“Good morning, doll,” Bucky breathes out against the back of your neck. his voice was thick and raspy from sleep.

You flip over so that you were face to face with the man you love, “hey, handsome,” you whisper, then kiss him lightly.

“So, last night was… something else,” he chuckles. You try to hide the panic that had suddenly washed over you; did Bucky like it as much as you did? Did he regret it? Did he remember telling you he loves you?

“This doesn’t have to be a thing,” you start to ramble, your voice weak and shaking at the thought Bucky wanted to go back to just friends, “I mean, I want it to be. But I get it’s complicated, and if you didn’t enjoy it, then I understand. Do you remember much from last night?” you blurt out, unable to meet his gaze.

“Y/N,” his tone was serious but happy. He starts to fiddle with your fingers, “I remember everything, and last night was amazing. I love you, and I want to be your boyfriend. I don’t know how everyone else will take it… maybe we-,” 

“Shouldn’t tell them yet?” you finished his sentence,

He frowns, “I was going to say ease them into the idea… why don’t you want to tell them?”

“What if…” your voice was as small as you felt in that moment, “what if this doesn’t work out?” you chewed on your bottom lip,

“Hey,” Bucky grabbed your chin and forced you to look into his eyes, “I’m not going anywhere. I love you. I’ve loved you for the past 35 years. I’ll love you for the rest of my life, that’s never going to change,”

You studied his expression, looking for any falter in his conviction. When you didn’t find any, you kiss him passionately.

Just as the kiss was heating up, someone knocked on your door. You and Bucky both freeze when you hear Natasha’s voice, “Y/N? Are you awake?”

You suddenly panic, pushing Bucky under the covers, “Just, shh,” you whisper at him before sitting up in bed, “yeah, Nat. Come in,” you call out.

She pokes her head around your door and cocks an eyebrow at you. You try to keep a calm expression and not look towards the large quilt lump next to you in bed. Bucky’s breath was fanning out across your bare stomach, tickling you, “what’s up?” you try to stifle a giggle.

She glances at the bulge in your quilt and lightly shakes her head, “Steve wants everyone in the conference room in 10 minutes… something about a new head of Hydra,”

You quickly nod, “no problem, I’ll see you there,” you say, hoping she’d leave already.

She glances back at your quilt and began to pull your door closed. Before the door clicked shut, she snuck her head around, “Oh, and, you too, Barnes,” she smirks. Your eyes widen and you open your mouth to explain, but she shuts your door before you can get a word out.

“Well,” Bucky peers out of the quilt, “so much for easing them into the idea of us,” he smirks at you.

Keep reading

I wish I had the patience or creativity or spirituality for like big cool elaborate spells requiring a whole lot of ingredients and a chant and the right kind of candle because those are SO COOL but I’m absolutely a minimal-effort witch. That’s my school of witchcraft. Baking bread to soothe a tense household. Projecting compassion and positivity through interactions. Throwing open a window and lighting some candles to cleanse the room. My cinnamon scented pillowcases for good luck for energy the next day. Anything that requires like 1 thing and is already helpful in a mundane way basically. I’m lazy and hungry let me drink my tea from this neon cartoon owl mug in PEACE

My grandma lived under the house

by reddit user chewingskin

Before you read these moments from my life, I’d like to apologize for the language, but I’m trying to recall it from the exact detail.

During the months of June, July, and August, I spent many hot summers of my childhood at my Grandmother’s house further west on the island of Cape Breton. The forest was plentiful, the plains were a vibrant green, and my Grandmother’s house was a rickety old two-story that was built sometime in the 50’s and looked like it didn’t belong.

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  • grantaire:[can't find enjolras]
  • grantaire:[yells] GRANTAIRE IS A USELESS FUCK
  • enjolras:[appears] what the FUCK DID YOU JUST-
  • courfeyrac:[jumps through nearest open window] WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK-
  • eponine:[spy rolls into the room] I KNOW YOU DID NOT JUST-
  • grantaire:wait, what-
  • jehan:[fucking apparates] R IS A BEAUTIFUL SOUL-
  • combeferre:[power walks over] NOW SEE HERE-
  • bahorel:[kool-aids through the wall] WHO DO I NEED TO KNOCK OUT-
  • grantaire:oh god

that was a perfect shot, too.

“The More I Know Men, The More I Love My Dog,” Marsha P. Johnson and friend, New York City, c. 1980s. Photo by Randy Wicker. Marsha P. Johnson and Randy Wicker were not necessarily destined to be close friends. Wicker–a white, cisgender, gay man–famously reacted to the Stonewall riots by declaring, “throwing rocks through windows doesn’t open doors.” And, Johnson–a trans woman of color–famously threw one of the first rocks at Stonewall. Nonetheless, Johnson and Wicker, who, with their distinct styles of controversial activism, both played major parts in building the modern LGBT movement, maintained a fiercely loyal friendship until Ms. Johnson’s death in 1992. #lgbthistory #lgbtherstory #lgbttheirstory #lgbtpride #payitnomind #translivesmatter #remembertheT #gavingrimm #gavingrimmisahero (at New York, New York)

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The Secret Life Behind Closed Doors - Paintings Of Privacy In The Big City

Born and bred in Los Angeles, California, Seth Armstrong is an American artist who understands life in an urban city. Behind the hustle and work-centric lives of people, resembling machines more than anything else, the artist has attempted to open a window into the secret lives these people hold.

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The best time to read is when the sounds of nature are surrounding you; the sound of waves breaking on the shore, rain pattering down on your window and everything else, or, as it is today, the wind gusting through my open window on an overcast afternoon…

An open window with a summer breeze, sun shining through and birds chirping + an iced coffee with homemade almond milk + rereading passages from one of my favourite books= Saturdaze success ✌🏼️.

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Sensing the Gods

Touch: raindrops falling
Sight: flash of light through the rain
Scent: day after a rainstorm
Emotion: a slight startle when a large thunderbolt lights the sky
Hear: resounding crack of thunderbolts
Taste: the numbing surge of electricity when testing a battery

Touch: the feeling of the wedding ring
Sight: the tears of love as a betrothed walks down the isle
Scent: the welcoming familiar smell of home
Emotion: love as grey as the hair time and passion has aged like wine
Hear: sound of child laughter
Taste: home cooked meal hot from the oven

Touch: the cold pool of tears after a panic attack as sleep calms the suicidal
Sight: a funeral procession honouring the soul to the underworld’s gates
Scent: freshly dug earth in a cemetery
Emotion: peace after a loved one has passed
Hear: the quiet of a cemetery
Taste: salt of tears as a life is not taken

Touch: wind through a open car window
Sight: yellow lines and green lights ensuring a speedy travel
Scent: lingering smell of gas at a full station
Emotion: relief as a long awaited trip arrives
Hear: clinking of coins in a till
Taste: the dryness after a long walk along a gravel road

Touch: long dry grass crunching in the fall
Sight: auburn, reds and golds of Autumn
Scent: pumpkin spice and freshly mown grass
Emotion: solitude and a festival glow as December rolls around
Hear: a lawnmower’s growling as it works through tall grass
Taste: fresh fruits and the taste of nectar and milk

Touch: creamy texture of chocolate in your mouth
Sight: long distance partner smiling after being far away
Scent: lovers perfume/cologne
Emotion: heart pounding, misty eyed love as a smile comes from seeing a love in your arms
Hear: impassioned breaths of intimate moments
Taste: the passionate kisses between lovers forgetting time for a moment

Touch: the long embrace of a soldier and child/love as they come home
Sight: half mast flag
Scent: soldier’s sweat after taking off his uniform from all day
Emotion: pride in your country
Hear: the resounding “Daddy!” of a coming home surprise
Taste: fresh food cooked after time away from your country

Touch: aching feet of a retail worker as they slump in a break room chair
Sight: the clock
Scent: burning embers of a fire, stale ash
Emotion: relief and excitement getting a job offer after searching relentlessly
Hear: clang of an anvil and sizzle of molten iron in a cooling bucket
Taste: cast iron cooked meals, fire cooked steak

Touch: the calluses on your fingertips after months of practice in guitar strings
Sight: beautiful works of art
Scent: lemonades on a day in summer
Emotion: shivering goosebumps as an emotion is struck hard with music
Hear: the sharp and clear melody of a freshly strung guitar
Taste: slight moment of metal and ink as a pen is drawn to your tongue

Touch: animal’s soft fur like water through your fingers
Sight: doe slowly walking out of a dense forest
Scent: a forest with rich leaves
Emotion: awe as a baby deer and mother wait patiently for your car to pass before crossing
Hear: twang of a arrow releasing from a bow string
Taste: cooling water after exploring in the woods

Touch: stiff spine of a new book cracking open
Sight: a deserved verdict to a defendant
Scent: old pages/books
Emotion: peace inside a bookstore
Hear: hoot of a stirring owl in the evening
Taste: fingertips as they’re licked to turn a fresh page in a book

Touch: embrace of a love come home again
Sight: the first spring flower blooming
Scent: new morning dew in spring
Emotion: relief and glowing love as a partner smiles on a long awaited Skype call
Hear: buzz of bees in the summer
Taste: pomegranates

Touch: tide bringing you in to shore again
Sight: crisp blue of the ocean at peace
Scent: the sour smell of a seafood section of a supermarket
Emotion: awe inspired by an image of the open sea
Hear: hooves thundering along a dirt path
Taste: salt of the sea as it slashes into a smile while swimming

Touch: the padding comfort of a bandage on a healing wound
Sight: seeing a loved one feel well again after sickness
Scent: disinfectant
Emotion: the drowsiness of NyQuil as it lulls your symptoms away to sleep
Hear: fresh air after sickness has clogged your sinuses for weeks
Taste: the sweetness as a sigh of relief escapes your breath

Touch: your cheeks stretching against your teeth as a yawn escaped into the sunrise
Sight: painted reds and oranges of a sunrise
Scent: morning dew in springtime at 6 am
Emotion: excitement for a day ahead, full of possibilities
Hear: the morning birds stirring in the early morning light
Taste: morning coffee next to an open-curtained window

Touch: moments when you can feel comfortable with your body after dysphoria
Sight: the charcoal of a panther, eyes glowing in the night
Scent: draping aroma of a fertile vineyard
Emotion: Pride in being part of a LGBTQ community
Hear: chorus laughter of a raucous party
Taste: sweet tang of a well aged wine

Saul, a close buddy of Gunther’s and mine, is losing his battle with cancer. He lived most of his life indoors with an elderly owner. When she couldn’t care for him anymore, my friends Carli and Tim rescued him with the intention of fostering him. They quickly fell in love with this unique spirit, as anyone who ever meets Saul does, and decided to adopt him permanently. This old guy got a second lease on life then and soaked it up with passion. He absolutely loves going on hikes where he lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest—a whole wide world outside he barely got a taste of until his senior years. He and Gunther were perfect hiking pals, going on lots of soggy adventures together last year. I often wondered what Saul was thinking about as the incredible Columbia River Gorge rushed by through the open car window. After our visit, Carli told me Saul would frantically pull her across the street anytime he saw a Golden Retriever, thinking it was Gunther. I was so enamored with Saul when I met him a few years ago, he even inspired the look and name of a main character in my upcoming book. He’s a champion couch cuddler, always backing up his silver rump against anyone seated next to him.

Saul beat back cancer when Carli and Tim first took him in, but sadly it came back recently, swiftly and aggressively. I’m not going to get to say goodbye in person, so I wanted to paint this little tribute to one of my favorite beings. Love you, Saul.

excellent things about autumn:
  • cozy lumpy sweaters
  • holding hot beverages in order to warm your fingertips
  • pretty leaves that crunch when you walk through them
  • cool nights when you can leave your window open and bundle in a blanket
  • it’s apple season
  • you can just wear a hat if you don’t feel like washing your hair
  • boots and tall socks in fun patterns
  • it’s finally hoodie weather
  • that one particular shade of blue sky that only occurs on clear october afternoons
  • cool rainy weekends when you can curl up with a book
  • the way it smells on the first day of really cold snap
She was the girl you read about in books. Her long auburn hair sat on top of her head in a messy bun with stray hairs slipping out. She was beautiful without effort. Her emerald green eyes struggled to stay open and reflected the glare of the TV. She leaned further into me as I drew my hand down her back. It was late and the outside noise spilled in through the open window in her room. The world seemed still in that moment. She sat up as she adjusted her shirt and her eyes met mine. The girl that haunted my fantasies was inches away yet she was still miserably out of my grasp.