words for micah


He pushes a curl of her hair behind her ear, and she doesn’t open her eyes, just smiles dreamily.


“Very.” She looks up at him, sleep and warmth and home glimmering in her eyes. “But it was worth it,” she says through a yawn. “Fifty percent of my grade.”

“You’re tiring yourself out.”

“I am not.” This is punctuated by another yawn, but she stands firm.

“You are.”

She looks slightly disgruntled. “Okay, maybe.”

He thinks she looks adorable, even tired and grumpy and wearing an oversized hoodie, curled up on the couch, but all he says is, “time for bed, Pen.”

“But I want to proofread it-”

“You can proofread it tomorrow. Besides, you’ve already gone over it about five times while editing, like you always do.”

She frowns, tilts her head to the side a little. “I only went over it four times. You’re right, I usually go over it five times. Should I read it again?”

“I don’t think there are any mistakes, Penny.”

“Do you know the statistical probability of an incorrectly spelled word or mistyped number?”

He remains unperturbed. “No, but I do know that you’re nearly dropping from exhaustion. Bed. Go on. I’ll bring you hot chocolate if you want, it’s nearly one in the morning and you didn’t have dinner.”

Her eyes widen, and she dives for her phone. “It’s one? I didn’t mean to make you stay up like that-”

“It’s fine-”

“No, you’ve been listening to me and helping me since seven, that’s insane, plus you’re usually out by eleven-”

“I’ll live.”

She slumps back into the pillows.

“Go to sleep. I’ll help you read your paper if you want.”

Some form of humour glitters in her eyes, and she opens her mouth to make a joke about how engineering majors can’t English at all if they’re all like you, Micah, but he presses a quick kiss to her lips, stopping her. “I won’t hear it. One time, Pen, that was one time-”

She’s laughing, and he’s laughing too, and it’s the quiet kind of laughter that rings around the room and makes even the fluorescent lightbulbs hanging overhead seem like they’re glowing just a little more warmly.

“I’m going, I’m going,” she says, and clambers off the couch.

“Do you want food?”

Her eyes soften. “No, it’s okay. I’ll eat in the morning.” She pulls him off the couch, too. “You need your sleep. Come on.”

The next morning when he wakes up, she’s already gone and there’s a little note on his bedside table with a cupcake on it.

I remembered that you didn’t really have dinner last night either, because a single slice of cheese is really, really sad, and I feel bad. Have this cupcake as some compensation.


He doesn’t know how he got her, because she’s all spark and intelligence and utterly perfect, but he’s not going to lose her. Not a chance.

wewerethebestrichard replied to your post: watching ur friends online use scripture with…

……… elizabeth……. .this is 2 much

YOU’RE too much…

Chosenness is not a privilege to boast of but a task to be undertaken. It is to keep constantly in mind the words of the prophet Micah: ‘It has been told you, O mortal, which is good, and what the Eternal requires of you– Only this: to do justly, and love mercy, and walk humbly with your God.’
—  Rabbi David J Wolpe (b. 1958), Mishkahn Hanefesh for Yom Kippur page 61

haxaninthebayou  asked:

"I wanted to kill White people, especially white officers." Do they have proof that he said this? This whole thing looks like a set up. Like come on do Black folks really think this? Do we want to do this? No this looks off.

Right now, there’s only the police officers’ word that Micah Johnson said this.

So, take that as you will. 

Plus, not only is there no video (yet) of them killing him, but they didn’t even shoot him, they legit blew him up. With a remote-controlled bomb. And they said it was their only option. Really? Really