your face is a miracle

obsessedwithaesthetic  asked:

as someone who does follow you on ifunny and seen your selfies your face is like as good if not by some miracle even better than your poems. You are beutiful and i was a little baffled that you dont thin so i just get an impresson of overwhelming devestating self confidence from some of your poems. an unbeatable type feeling. im not as good at words but ya know what i mean?

your words are good, I get what you mean. and thank you! you are very sweet. what I am about to say is going to sound bad because I do try an promote body positivity and self love but I don’t actually have much of it. And i don’t want to post pictures of myself on here where I feel like the only people who’s pictures are well received are those who have at least some traditionally beautiful traits. it may not be true, but that is the vibe I constantly get and I am just not brave tbh. I can take criticism for my words because I can edit them but I can’t edit my face if someone tells me they don’t like something about it. 

The Lucky Numbskull

- Po Town is connected to Wonder Trade, remember?

You were just a Grunt. That’s all you were known as; Grunt. No one special, no one cool. Just Grunt.

Yet even so, you tried your best. Behind Guzma’s back yoU talked with Nanu, trying desperately to get a better understanding of how to raise Pokémon. Plumeria helped, though she would often remark that you were being dumb, and should stop acting so shady. You didn’t though.

Then, a miracle happened. Well, something like a miracle, though the feeling of your face on fire begged to differ. The miracle came through Wonder Trade.

Most members of Team Skull didn’t use Wonder Trade, seeing it as being weird wacky science. But after forever you just had to give it a try. And as you said goodby to your Formantis, a Pokémon was sent in return.

At first you had no idea what the hell it was. Plumeria eventually told you it was a “Larvesta” and that it was a bug/fire type. A very, very strong one too. It loved to fight, even if it would act as though it received its victories with grace. Ever though you needed help, and turned to Guzma.

You look around you now, hoping he’ll show up. Guzma was your boss, your leader, your boy. He was an example of how far strength could get someone, and he’d been the one to suggest you pull up your pants and start training the Larvesta.

It took a lot of time and patience; oh boy did you need patience. Raising it took forever, and it didn’t help that it occasionally didn’t listen. Only those with Island Stamps could get them to listen. And with how Guzma had felt you didn’t know if he’d approve you taking on the Island challenge.

Holding your challenge badge, you grip it tightly. The falling out had been brutal. You’d been all but tossed head over heels when you told them you wanted to take up the challenge again. Guzma had fought you, trying to show you just how much you still had to learn before you were ready. You didn’t care though. You had to go.

Now you stand, alone, the Elite Four defeated and the champion before you. Your team is at your side, all eager to see what they will do, and yet your eyes turn to the stands around you as they’re filled with people. You’d hoped, wished that they’d show up. But then that seemed a dream.

All of a sudden, there’s a raucous whooping and hollering. Blinking, you turn to the area behind you, looking into the stands. As you turn, a group of people pull out flat boards and hold them over their heads. There are words on them, and an arrow pointed your way.

“THAT’S MA BOY”

It’s Team Skull, making a nuisance of themselves and a general ruckus. But your eyes are on Guzma, who locks eyes with your own. He shrugs, clearly taken aback that you’ve come so far. Then, staring past you at the champion, he smirked and shakes his head.

He knows. You both know. But now, you don’t care. Win or lose, this is the day you’ve dreamt of. And for that, you and your team will show the champion and the world just how thickskulled the finest Grunt of Team Skull truly was.

Depression...Part 2

(Part 1  Part 3)


The ambulance rushed you to the hospital as Spencer rambled off hypothetical statements as to how long your body had been without oxygen.

But even though he could reason the numbers lower, it was still a grim situation.

Every rib but two in your rib-cage had been broken, and the pain wafting through your system, while intense, was a miracle.

Tears poured down your face for the miracle.

The paramedics rushed to set IV’s and check dilation of your pupils, Spencer coo’d that he was there and they asked you rambling questions, forgoing answers just to see if you could hear them.

Could understand them.

And then, your eyes snapped shut and your entire body began to contract and release.

Contract and release.

Contract and release.

“Y/N?” Spencer asks breathlessly as a paramedic scoots in front of him.

But he couldn’t pry your eye open in order to check your pupils.

“She’s having a seizure,” the paramedic says as the other one keeps taking notes.

But Spencer knew that wasn’t a sign of an oxygen-starved brain.

Maybe you hadn’t been in the water as long as he had suspected?

And once the seizure was over…

“Ow…” you groan out.

“Y/N!” Spencer rejoices.

“My head…” you slur.

Slurring of words wasn’t good.

“Where does it hurt, ma’am?” the female paramedic asks.

Tears were pooling onto Spencer’s neck.

Seizures.  Headaches.  Depression.

Attempted suicide…

What was happening to his wife?

“My neck,” you whimper.

And the paramedic began to feel back behind your neck as your legs began to involuntarily contract and release again.

And still, the paramedic took notes just as the ambulance swung into the hospital.


It felt like an eternity.

Spencer wasn’t allowed in the room while they did the psychiatric evaluation.  Nothing that could be of a possible emotional influence was allowed.  He knew the protocol was just in case a spouse was being abused, but he was desperate to know.

Desperate for answers.

His mind was swirling and silent at the same time as he felt a body sit down near his.

“You gotta eat, kid,” Derek lulls as he hands Spencer a drink.

“Not hungry,” he murmurs.

“Tough,” Derek announces as he shoves a burger into his hands.

“Eat,” he commands.

But just as Spencer got the food unwrapped, the doctor stepped into the waiting room.

“Y/N Reid?” the doctor asks.

And Spencer leapt to his feet.

“That’s my wife!” he exclaims as the doctor walks over to him.

“What’s going on with my wife?” Spencer croaks.

“Well, the psych eval went about as well as you could expect.  She’s on a mandated 72 hour hold, with two sessions scheduled with talking to the psychologist on staff,” the doctor begins.

None of that shocked Spencer.

“But there are some things that don’t line up,” the doctor says.

“Good, because I don’t think they do, either.  See, with the seizures in the ambulance and the fact that her medication wasn’t-”

“Dr. Reid,” the doctor interrupts, “I am quite familiar with that brain of yours, but please let me do my job.”

Spencer took a deep breath as he watched your hospital bed wheel out into the room.

“Y/N?” he asks as he brushes past the doctor.

But you were fast asleep as the doctor grasped his arm.

“Where are you taking my wife?” he growls as he whips around to the man in the white coat.

“I have reason to believe that your wife has a tumor,” the doctor blurts out.

Now he had Spencer’s attention.

“She fell asleep, and I allowed it after reconciling that she hadn’t sustained any sort of concussion bobbing against the pier, and she’s going for an MRI and a CAT scan to see if there’s anything there to substantiate what’s going on.”

“A-a-and what, um…do you think is going on?” Spencer asks.

“I think that everything she is experiencing can be explained with a brain tumor pressing up against her limbic system,” the doctor begins.

“Including her depression.”

Tonight’s A Good Night || Jeon Jungkook

Originally posted by hey-seoul-sistah

Word Count: 2.5k

Genre: Fluffy Angst


Tonight had been the start of a good night so Jungkook had made last minute plans with you. He said that since you guys hadn’t been out for a while he should take you out.

That was why you were now standing in front of the vanity mirror, your reflection looking back at you. You’re makeup had been done nice and light and your hair was curled slightly just like how you would normally wear it.

You didn’t feel the need to wear anything particularly fancy as it was just you and Jungkook going out for dinner. Even so you still picked out a nice dress you owned which would stretch around your swelling stomach.

You couldn’t even keep the smile off your face as you thought about the miracle growing inside you. It was an exciting though, that in only four months you and Jungkook would be the parents to one of the most beautiful children in the entire world.

It made you seem a little egotistical to think this way, but no mater how your baby looked, you were going to love it regardless. A smile graced your face at the thought and you rubbed the top of your stomach gently. It was a nice feeling and there was something relaxing about just rubbing your stomach, as if you were trying to offer comfort to the baby.  

A pair of arms came around from behind you, both of Jungkook’s large hands holding your stomach gently. He moved his hands slightly and started to rub your stomach the same way yours had been. Your hands cupped his gently and you played with the wedding ring on his left hand.

“Are you ready to head out?” Jungkook asked, kissing your neck gently. He left little kisses here and there and you tilted your head to the side, allowing him more access to litter your skin.

“I’ve been ready for a while.” You whispered quietly, the smile still very prominent on your face. His lips continued their attack on your neck and you let out a little giggle at the feeling.

Keep reading

One.
You know how this ends. There’s nothing you can do to change it, so make peace with it now. Ready your hands for the callus, shred the cloth for bandages, prepare the rosaries.

Two.
When you meet him, outside the grocery, along the boardwalk, beneath the overpass, you will not know what he is. He will be neither be too charming nor too handsome, not thunder, not polish -

Three.
The day you fall in love, his mouth will spill your name. He will repeat and repeat. He will not touch you. He will watch your hips, study whatever ample you have, will ask to watch you dance. When you turn to leave, he will use your name like a choke chain.

Four.
He will call you miracle. Your face will unravel. This is his magic. When he begs you promise, say yes.

Five.
When he offers his lips, take them. Take his arms, his throat, take his toes when he offers. Gorge. Swallow everything whole. Gag. Vomit. Swallow more. Do not hesitate. No time for polite, or coy. Take.

Six.
When the minions call you whore, nod.

Seven.
He will tell you of the others. How they went crazy in their sleep awaiting his return. Do not flinch. Do not doubt your thickened fingertips. Stand upright. You promised.

Eight.
When you find him in his room, thrashing the sheets, pressing his palms into the walls, howling, his face a river… close the door. This is how he makes wine. Leave him in his sorcery.

Nine.
When he explains that he cannot love. That he will never be yours alone. When he tells how the meek, the gluttons, the tempted, the proud are his angels, do not mourn. Smile, feed him, wash his hair.

Ten.
He is a king among thieves. The leeches will hollow his skin, the crows reduce him to bones. His own heart will empty him. Allow for the bleed. Be ready with tourniquet and prayer.

Eleven.
In the dry burn of dawn, after the last of the lashes, the thorns and the spittle, when his limp body is laid at your feet, remember the night you loved him, the ember of his eyes and the way the words came like honey.

Twelve.
You were made for this.

‘Lessons on Loving a Prophet’ by Jeanann Verlee

Let’s Face It

aph America and aph Prussia were just like Mulan and Mushu from Disney’s Mulan. But seriously tho:

America: It’s gonna take a miracle to win my independence!

Prussia, out of fucking nowhere: DID SOMEONE ASK FOR A MIRACLE?

.

Prussia: Let’s see your war face!

America:…

Prussia: Well, I think my bunny slippers just ran for cover…

.

Prussia: My baby all grown up and off to destroyin’ England…

Prussia: *Cries proud tears*

Lessons on Loving a Prophet - Jeanann Verlee

For Kasturba Gandhi and Coretta Scott King.

1. You know how this ends. There nothing you can do to change it so make peace with it now. Ready your hands for the callus, shred the cloth for bandages. Prepare the rosaries.

2. When you meet him, outside the grocery, along the boardwalk, beneath the overpass, you will not know what he is. He will be neither too charming, nor too handsome. Not thunder. Not Polish.

3. The day you fall in love, his mouth will spill your name. He will repeat, and repeat. He will not touch you. He will watch you hips, study whatever ample you have; will ask to watch you dance. When you turn to leave, he will use your name like a choke chain.

4. He will call you “miracle”. Your face will unravel, this is his magic. When he begs you promise, say yes.

5. When he offers his lips, take them. Take his arms, his throat, take his toes. When he offers, gorge. Swallow everything whole, gag, vomit, swallow more. Do not hesitate. No time for polite or coy. Take.

6. When the minions call you whore, nod.

7. He will tell you of the others. How they went crazy in their sleep awaiting his return. Do not flinch. Do not doubt your fickend fingertips. Stand upright. You promised.

8. When you find him in his room, thrashing the sheets, pressing his palms into the wall, howling. His face a river. Close the door. This is how he makes wine. Leave him in his sorcery.

9. When he explains that the cannot love you. That he will never be yours alone. When he tells how the meek and the gluttons, the tempted, the proud are his angels, do not mourn. Smile. Feed him. Wash his hair.

10. He is a king among thieves. The leeches will hollow his skin. The crows reduce him to bones. His own heart will empty him. Allow for the bleed. Be ready with tourniquet and prayer.

11. In the dry burn of dawn. After the last of the lashes, the thorn and the spittle, when his limp body is laid at your feet. Remember the night he loved you. The ember of his eyes, and the way the words came like honey.

12. You were made for this.

*squeezes self into what is probably the tiniest corner of my bedroom in the most awkward position you could imagine and strategically covers entire face with hand god bless*

second selfie in two days but I got a hat with cat ears for christmas i have zero regrets about this sorry friends*

Merry Christmas everyone, I hope you all have a fab day and if it’s not going so well then hang in there sweetie bc you’re gr8 u can do this and if you don’t celebrate Christmas then I hope you’re having a great day in general ily bye 💖

Some of you will drop out. Some of you will be kicked out. Some of you will lose your scholarship and be forced out. Some of you will graduate in the bottom 25% and no one will hire you. Some of you will fail the bar. Some of you will pass the bar by some miracle and fall flat on your face at a law firm. And you all sit here like ‘no, that won’t be me. I’ll do better than that.’ But the reality is, there isn’t room for all of you at the top.
—  Food for thought from our very angry professor after calling on 3 different students who couldn’t answer his question