am i too old for a purse like this

natasha, pierre & the great comet of 1812 sentence starters (act 1)

(twigger warning: alcohol and domestic abuse mentions)


  • “There’s a war going on out there somewhere…”
  • “_______ isn’t here.”
  • “You’re gonna have to study up a little bit…”
  • “Everyone’s got NINE different names!”
  • “_______ is young.”
  • “_______ is good.”
  • “_______ is old school.”
  • “_______ is HOT.”
  • “He/She/They spends his/she/their money on women and wine…”
  • “_______ is a slut.”
  • “_______ is fierce, but not too important.”
  • “The war can’t touch us here!”
  • “_______ is crazy!”
  • “_______ is plain.”
  • “_______’s family… totally messed up.”
  • “_______’s just for fun.”
  • “What about _______?”


  • “It’s dawned on me suddenly, and for no obvious reason, that I can’t go on living as I am.”
  • “I used to be better.”
  • “His/Her/Their purse is always empty because it’s open to all.”
  • “I drink too much…”
  • “Right now, my friend fights and bleeds.”
  • “I never thought I’d end up like this!”
  • “The women/men/people all pity me cause’ I’m married but not in love.”
  • “He/She/They is charming, he/she/they have no sex.”
  • “There’s a ringing in my head…”
  • “There’s a sickness in the world.”
  • “I’ll sort it out later.”
  • “How many men before me, good men believing in goodness and truth, entered that door with all their teeth and hair and left it toothless and bald?”
  • “You empty and stupid contented fellows!”
  • “I’m different from you! I still want to do something!”
  • “Do you struggle too?”
  • “I pity you, I pity me, I pity you.”


  • “I’ll take you where you must go.”
  • “What are you dawdling for?”
  • “Bring some rum for the tea!”
  • “______, you’ve grown plumper and prettier!”
  • “My cheeks are glowing from the cold!”
  • “How beautiful you looked in the snow!”
  • “I can’t bare this waiting!”
  • “He/She/They loves me only.”
  • “Dresses, dresses! We’ll buy what we can afford!”
  • “How wonderful to have you here instead of these gossips and crybabies.”
  • “You’ve hooked a fine fellow!”
  • “The old fellow’s crotchety!”


  • “I’ve aged so much.”
  • “I forget things…”
  • “I live in the past.”
  • “People enjoy me though.”
  • “Such a majestic and agreeable spectacle.”
  • “Bring me my slippers!”
  • “Bring me my wine!”
  • “I have no friends!”
  • “Stupid girl/boy, all my friends are dead!”
  • “I can hurt you!”
  • “I can hurt you but I never ever would.”
  • “He/She/They could beat me or treat me like a dog, make me fetch wood or water and that’s just how it is.”
  • “I know they’ll like me, everyone has always liked me!”
  • “Is this all I make of my life?”
  • “Maybe I’ll marry someone myself…”
  • “Oh, that offends you, does it?”
  • “Where are my glasses?!”
  • “He forgets things…”
  • “And I dare to judge him, I disgust myself.”
  • “I disgust myself…”


  • “O-Oh… Oh, hello…. Won’t you come in?”
  • “Too fashionably dressed.”
  • “I know at any moment he’ll indulge in some freak!”
  • “I am not afraid anyone.”
  • “Too plain and affected.”
  • “Not much to look at…”
  • “What have I said?”
  • “What have I done?”
  • “Oh, they were so awful…”
  • “It all hurts so terribly.”


  • “First time I heard your voice, moonlight burst into the room.”
  • “You are so good for me.”
  • “I’ll never be this happy again.”
  • “You and I, and no one else.”
  • “We’ve done this all before, we were angels once. Don’t you remember?”
  • “How can anyone sleep? There was never such a night before!”
  • “I feel like putting my arms around my knees and squeezing tight as possible and flying away.”


  • “Stop moving and moaning, we’ll miss the curtain!”
  • “Welcome, to the opera.”
  • “________, smooth your gown/shirt.”
  • “I’ve never felt like this before.”
  • “Look, there’s _______, home from the war at last.”
  • “He’s/She’s/They’ve changed, dear me!”
  • “What a headdress she/he/they has on!”
  • “They’re all looking at me, they’re all talking about me!”
  • “Now all the ladies/men/everyone are mad about him/her/them.”
  • “No, I am enjoying at home this evening.”
  • “Oh, those pearls!”
  • “So beautiful! What a charming young girl/man/person!”
  • “Have you been here long?”
  • “He/She/They never used to forget us.”
  • “There’s a woman/man/person one should stay far away from.”
  • “Oh, I’d tickle you all if I could.”
  • “He/She/They moved with a swagger. Which would have looked ridiculous, had he/she/they not been so good-looking.”
  • “Mais charmante.”
  • “How handsome he/she/they is!”
  • “He/She/They is talking about me.”
  • “Every time I look at him/her/them, he’s/she’s/they’re looking at me!”
  • “Bravo, bravo!”


  • “I have longed wished to have this happiness.”
  • “How do you like the performance?”
  • “He’s/She’s/They’re as handsome up close as at a distance.”
  • “You ought to come, please, come!”
  • “I know for certain he’s/she’s/they’re taken by me.”
  • “I fear he/she/they may seize me from behind and kiss me on the neck!”
  • “You will be the prettiest there.”
  • “Do come, give me this flower as a pledge.”
  • “It’s alright, _______, I’m here.”
  • “I-I cannot speak.”
  • “There’s nothing between us.”


  • “I have known her/him/them since she/he/they was a child… I have long carried affection for her/him/them.”
  • “Yes, charming.”
  • “Drink with me, my love! For there’s fire in the sky and ice on the ground!”
  • “Vodka and wine are dangerous for me.”
  • “Keep drinking, old man/woman.”
  • “She’s/He’s/They’re first rate but nothing but trouble.”
  • “It doesn’t matter, I don’t give a damn.”
  • “Just as a duck is made to swim in water, God has made me as I am.”
  • “All I care for is deity and women.”
  • “God! To think I married a man/woman/person like you!”
  • “Don’t speak to me, wife/husband/spouse.”
  • “There’s something inside me. Something terrible and monstrous.”
  • “Here’s to the health of married women/men/people and their lovers!”
  • “How dare you touch her/him/them?!”
  • “You can’t love her/him/them!”
  • “I challenge you!”
  • “Oh, a duel? Yes, this is what I like~.”
  • “He/She/They will kill you, stupid husband/wife/spouse!”
  • “So, I shall be killed! What is it to you?!”
  • “________, my guns.”
  • “Oh, this is horribly stupid!”
  • “________, hold your fire! Not yet!”
  • “No! Shot by a fool!”
  • “Oh, my mother. My angel… My adored angel mother!”
  • “You are a fool.”
  • “Well, you certainly bring out the beast in them!”
  • “Come on, let’s get you home.”
  • “Be happy, we live to love another day.”


  • “Is this how I die?”
  • “How did I live?”
  • “I taste every wasted minute… Every time I turned away from the things might have healed me.”
  • “Was I kind enough…? Was I GOOD enough…?”
  • “Oh, why have I been sleeping?”
  • “They say we are asleep till we fall in love, we are children of dust and ashes.”
  • “When we fall in love, we wake up.”
  • “We are god and angels weep.”
  • “All of my life, I spent searching the words of poets, saints, prophets and kings! And now, at the end, all I know that I’ve learned is that all that I know: Is I don’t know a thing!”
  • “All the things I could have been! But I never had the nerve!”
  • “Life and love? I don’t deserve it.”
  • “All right, I’ve had my time.”
  • “Bury me in burgundy, I just don’t care.”
  • “Such a storm of feelings inside of me!”
  • “Why am I screaming…? Why am I shaking?”
  • “Oh, God. Was there something I missed?”
  • “Was happiness within me the whole time?”
  • “Don’t let me die while I’m like this!”


  • “I see my face.”
  • “Don’t be silly!”
  • “They say you can see your future in the long row of candles in the depths of the mirror.”
  • “I see a shape in the darkness!”
  • “I’m so frightened!”
  • “I suffer now more than before…”
  • “The rudeness of that man/woman/person! I’ll straighten him out!”
  • “I’ll shut myself in my room and try on new dresses/clothes.”


  • “Oh, my enchantress… Oh, you beautiful thing!”
  • “These dresses suit you!”
  • “Anything suits you, my charmer.”
  • “You are such a lovely thing, where have you been?”
  • “It’s such a shame to bury pearls in the country…”
  • “If you have a dress/suit you must wear it out!”
  • “How can you live in _______ and no go no where?”
  • “So, you love somebody! That’s no reason to shut yourself in!”
  • “My brother/sister/sibling/friend dined with me yesterday but he/she/they didn’t eat a thing because he/she/they was thinking about you.”
  • “A woman/man/person with a dress/suit is a frightening powerful thing!”
  • “You are not a child when you’re draped in scarlet and lace.”
  • “Your fiance` would want you to have fun rather than be bored today!”
  • “My brother/sister/sibling/friend is quite madly in love with you, my dear.”
  • “It must be all right…”
  • “There’s a ball at my house tonight, you must come!”
  • “You must come!”
  • “How the thought of throwing them together amuses me!”


  • “How I adore little girls/boys, they lose their heads at once!”
  • “There is no barrier between us!”
  • “I don’t know good from bad…”
  • “I’m so frightened!”
  • “You are enchanting!”
  • “Don’t lower your eyes, I love you.”
  • “I am in love, dear, I am in love.”
  • “Don’t say such things, I love another!”
  • “Don’t speak of that when I tell you that I’m madly in love with you!”
  • “Is if my fault your enchanting?”
  • “I don’t understand anything tonight!”
  • “Is it possible I will never see you again?”
  • “I have nothing to say!”
  • “Tell me, what just happened…?”
  • “I-I’m trembling…”
  • “I love you… Of that there is no doubt.”
  • “How else could we have kissed?”
  • “I could not help loving you.”
  • “I will love you, _______.”
  • “I’ll do anything for you.”
Flower Girl  -  Chapter 2

Drink?” he offers, yanking the vodka from the cupboard. The clear liquid swirls around in the bottle like a tornado.

She goes to answer, and it seems like she might be teetering on a yes, but just like that, her face changes and she tells him quickly, “I-I should go-”:

“No!” he blurts - far too eagerly. He reminds himself to chill, pull back. And, most importantly: Don’t be such a freaking weirdo.

“Really, I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough tonight-” she insists, snatching up her purse from nearby. While she looks like she may have freshened up before he got there – her cheeks are now devoid of running mascara - he can still see through her damp shirt. Not that he’s complaining.

“Oh, don’t,” His voice squeaks like a 13-year-old going through puberty. He recovers quickly, he clears his throat. “You don’t have to be embarrassed around me. I mean, who am I? No one, remember? Specific Hat Man.” He watches her face slowly soften and the slightest hint of a smile comes back. Her nerves seem to dissolve and she lets herself faintly chuckle behind her hand.

“It is a very specific hat,” she repeats from earlier. She seems to be feeling better already. They’ve both almost forgotten the terribly strange situation they are in.

See? We have inside jokes, already,” he muses. She smiles even bigger now and she’s not trying to hide it anymore and it’s bright and beaming and it makes him reciprocate involuntarily, “Just like old friends.”

Read here…

St.'s Short and Sweet Guide to (Not Asking Her) How to Get Started in Witchcraft and Magic

I keep getting mail from people asking where to start and so I decided to put together a little guide to help you out. Sorry for the bluntness. I haven’t eaten. This IS NOT aimed at anyone. I’d just like to have a thing on the blog.

Keep reading


do not let anyone
convince you a Witch

is something to fear. she is a female

with power, the healer, the magician
persecuted for being both woman

and extraordinary.

the men panic for their seat in the
castle. they do not know how to share

a throne. when you cast a spell,
they laugh, but make no mistake:

predators will cut off your hands
if you prove them to be useful.

they will cut off your hands
if they decide you are capable

of starting a war.

but you are all bite, claws, steel, filed teeth
and jaws, scratch, buckle, sparkling fists.

there is a fire. let them cower. howl louder.

see the wonder-girl who can swallow lit
matches, who manages to survive in spite

of the fifteenth street-side threat this week.
boy at a party jokes that women

are an endangered species. once,
I met a ten-year-old who had to cover

his little brothers eyes while watching their father
beat their mom to death. sometimes, I am all too

aware of the obstacle course getting home safe
at night is like. I have a weapon in my purse

that looks like a friendly kitten keychain.
I have heard the stories of brave women

made into headlines made into such-a-
shame’s. I can’t say I haven’t been warned.

tonight, you are angry and
outside, it is storming.

use your voice like a flamethrower,
a siren. they are afraid of whatever

this heat is coming from
and who she came here for.

who do you know named extinct?
—  WITCHES, by Blythe Baird

anonymous asked:

I was the irl version of that meme "throws breadsticks in my purse and leaves"😂 i was talking to this girl and she didnt know i am a madridista so she went like "rm fucked up be keeping ramos he only gets cards and fuck shit up, useless" and i was like THE DISRESPECT but held back and keep talking BUT THEN she looks at me and goes "also when is ronaldo going to china? He is too old" and that was the moment i was like NOPE need to get away asap she cant just direspect our legends like this tf

her:when is Ronaldo going to chi-


gIRL I’M GLAD YOU STEPPED AWAY FROM THAT TYPA NEGATIVITY !! USELESS ?? SIS Y’ALL HAVE 12 CLS ?? NO ? OK DID YOU SEE HIM SCORE IN THE HISTORIC DAY OF LA DECIMA ?? USELESS MY ASS .. smh and Cris is too old ?? I’m so done I’d have probably went off .. like I never bring up football but I’d be like sqUARE TF UP YOU’RE INSULTING MY OWN DAD RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME ? NOT . ON . MY . WATCH

Ah, the Bickers of love

Originally posted by taesverynofun

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

*Taehyung’s POV

Genre: Once again…Fluff

Word Count: 1,348

 A/N: This is more like a second part to this but only because of the characters, so you may wanna give that a read first but you don’t reeaaally have to. TBH IDK ABOUT THIS ONE I WINGED THE ENTIRE THING HSHHSJ

We may bicker, we may age, but I will always love you.

“Honey, in my youth, if I’ll have you know, I was quite the rebel.”

 "Oh I’m aware dear, I mean stealing lollipops was heavy criminal business.“

 "Oh come on! You know it’s true, you were with me half the time! In fact you were behind almost every scheme if my memory isn’t failing me.” I coughed out, trying my best to maintain a serious face.

“I’m surprised it hasn’t yet.” She laughed out lowly, but despite their old age, my ears were working just fine, well enough to pick up the sly comment.

“Ha, ha very funny, at least my hair isn’t turning a freakish white, it’s transforming into a charming silver.” Leaning back into the lush of the armchair, I watched as she peered at me through her reading glasses, shooting me one of those glares she’d gotten so good at giving before she settled back into her book. I sighed in contentment, my eyes growing weary, flickering shut, demanding a nap before our walk out to the garden. The one she insists on doing almost every day. Where we’ll simply jog down to the park about 15 minutes away and circle the flower garden until boredom finally strikes. Actually she only, truly insists because along the way, we end up passing that old little cafe I used to work at centuries ago. Something about the nostalgia of it all.

When we moved back here to good ol’ Seoul from a 4 year stay in Sydney, I couldn’t believe my ageing eyes when I saw its doors still standing there. Not more than her though, she was practically gleaming- almost as much as she was when we went to Spain on our honeymoon.

Ever since then she’s made some sort of pact with herself that we walk by it during our little exercise routine, dragging me along with her. Usually it’d be the complete opposite; I would be the one dragging her lazy, antisocial ass in an explosion of restlessness. Simply to put some meaning into the day, even if it meant just having lunch from the hotdog stand 10 minutes away from her old apartment. But the job got far too tiring, especially after a solid 40 years, so we’ve switched roles now.

“You’re such a bore.” I peeled open an eyelid to peek at her, just in time to catch the little pout she used to do so often and a smile graced my chapped lips.

“Ah really? Then is that why you married me?”

“Well what can I say, I took pity on you. Thought I should at least give the dork a chance.” I may as well have spit out my drink, if I had one, instead I choked on a scoff.

“YOU? pity ME? Darling it was YOU that asked ME out, I only agreed because I was afraid you’d burst with how red you were. Also I’m not boring, if anything it was I that turned you interesting.”

“Oh bug off, I had lady problems that day. Blame the hormones!” She argued flailing her hands in wild gestures. “And how dare you, I am plenty interesting. I was tired of being single and you were just a last resort.”

“Lies, you came to the cafe every single day for breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinner, everything!” I gaped, pulling back each finger as I counted every meal I could think of.

“Quit making me out to be a stalker my goodness! I came for the breakfast and that was only once a week!”

“Yet somehow it was always when I had a shift…” I held my chin, still amazed at the coincidences that couldn’t be called coincidences after the fourth time.

“Blame it on your good looks alright, nothing more. Now those have faded too.“ she sighed dramatically and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Says the one turning 59 next week, just a year till 60 sugarplum.” I had to bite back a grin, pursing my lips and clamping my eyes shut in both anticipation and fear of her reaction when she slammed her book shut.

“Kim Taehyung!” Oops.

“I am still younger than your old ass and, unlike someone, I don’t look a day over 40. How dare you insult your loving wife like this.” She exclaimed with a gasp, and a series of mumbles. Probably curses. “We agreed I wasn’t going to age after 45 by the way so be quiet.”

I turned toward her, clasping  her hand in mine.“I know I know, I’m sorry. You’ll always be prettier and younger than me, promise.” I chuckled, cooing when she responded with nothing but a pout and puff in annoyance.

“I love you.” Her thin brows shot up at my loving gaze- just like mine did when she uttered those same three words for the very first time, and I found myself repeating them to her with tenfold the excitement.

Her gaze narrowed suspiciously when I tried to throw in a cheeky wink.

“Yeah, yeah I love you too.“I slid my fingers into hers, bringing the back of her hand to my lips for a loving peck. She rolled her eyes but I could see the corners of her lips tugging at a smile.

It was true, she did look younger than her age, maybe not 20 years younger but definitely not 59, old age had favored her, skin still smooth- albeit the few folds and the subtle sag that came with time. Smile still as bright, soft, if not more. Her kind eyes still glowing like they used to, especially when we found freedom after graduation. When I landed a career that took me from one corner of the earth to the next, keeping her glued to my side whilst she built and raised her very own Jewellery business, watching it grow and expand through the comfort of her laptop.

Discovering new places, new foods, new people, embracing every change that came my way, except the hand that I held through it all. Even through ruthless arguments that threatened us apart and long distance calls when she couldn’t board a flight with me.

The age agreement of 45 was born one day out of nowhere when she stalked out of the bathroom, eyes fixed on me, declaring sternly that she will now be 45 forever as she clung onto a grey strand of hair that she had yet to dye. I really did choke on my juice then, laughing until I saw her unwavering expression and nod my head so fast I gave myself whiplash, watching as she stomped back inside.

It didn’t matter anyway, she’d still look like a fresh new day to me, still elicit the same admiration and devotion I will always have towards her, no matter the unhealthy obsession she has for drama and gossip- yet sticks her nose up at the smallest whiff of any around herself.

I will still cherish her even if she’s wrong and she refuses to admit it-the silent card her best tactic. Although I could always have her feeling guilty with a simple sigh and a dejected ‘Whatever’. She never could play it out long enough until she would turn up teary eyed and apologetic.

I will still see the same mesmerising beauty I saw 40 years ago, stuttering her order and shattering a glass one Spring Tuesday. I will adore her no matter how many wrinkles decorate her skin, will listen and kiss her quiet when she nervously defends the unnecessary luxury she pulls out of branded shopping bags. I will forgive and tease her no matter how many times she forgets the simplest of things or runs late for no reason at all. I will love her till the day I die, even if she may no longer breathe beside me anymore. She is my all and even through the worst of times, I will never regret taking that job at a little bistro on a Winter Monday because I met a clumsy, hopeless romantic who ended up as the love of my life on a beautiful Spring Tuesday.

beaconhillbillies  asked:

prompt: Mark passionately kisses/confesses to Chris (or the other way around) in an inappropriate setting. I.e. During in an argument in front of the crew, a nasa interview, etc.

Chris hadn’t let Mark alone for a moment since they rescued him. It was starting to get annoying. Chris was the only one treating him like spun glass. Martinez was back to his rough way of showing his affection for Mark within a month, and Beck was still stuck thinking that if he even breathed wrong around Mark he would explode into a cloud of dust. He knows Chris means well, but it’s just so fucking annoying.

He finally hits his limit. It’s 36 days before they return to Earth’s orbit and Mark explodes.

Keep reading

Made Up

This is what I do. A kind of secret I’m letting you in on. I line my lips with a Nars rose tinted pencil, I pat my eyelids with fine Lorac powder, I dab a rosy MAC stain on my cheekbones - which are lost these days but then like magic they appear, blossom colored, vibrant, almost like they used to be. I do this and more - so much more - after I brush my teeth, before I go to the gym, when I need to run to CVS for toilet paper, as I walk toward the ocean shore. I do this all the time. I am that woman.

You look nice without that stuff, my husband says, none the wiser that even when I appear bare faced, I am not. It’s painstaking, the blending, smearing, patting, so that nothing shows, but it’s always there, a fine layer of dust and shimmer like a veil, shrouding me from the world because I don’t know how else to do it.

At ten, I stand in Woolworth’s and choose a 99 cent lipstick, because that’s all I’ve got, a dollar and twenty-five cents, for tax. It smells like moth balls and plastic and leaves my mouth dry and caked, but now the corral will catch their eye and not the sad state of my front teeth. I want Mood Lipsticks and Kissing Koolers, but they’re too expensive. I want Dial-A-Lash and Jane eyeshadows. I want the whole aisle. I dream of Maybelline. 

At twelve, I run my fingers over my forehead and feel the bumps, like grains of sand, white and tiny, pimples sprinkled from temple to temple and I want to cry. I swipe my skin with a white sponge, now soaked with Max Factor Silk Perfection in Deep Beige, even though I’m miles away from anything beige. I paint my face trying not to look at it. I dream of Prescriptives. I dream of beauty you can’t buy at the supermarket, but I can’t afford it, just yet. 

At seventeen, I run into the bathroom, my boyfriend still sleeping, and I trace my fingers under my eyes and I fumble for my jar of concealer. My hands shake. I smooth my mouth with a tiny slanted sponge until my lips glimmer with Cover Girl Outlast Antique Rose. I pick the clumps of mascara from my eyelashes, tearing out one or two in the process. I reapply. I spend my teenage years doing this; reapplying. I love my boyfriend but he is new and he has never seen my face unmasked. I envy the boys with acne scars in broad daylight because there is nothing on TV to tell them they should hide their flaws. 

At twenty-one, Sephora changes my life. I can dawdle, my wrist a collage of colors and charcoal lines, my wrist stained for hours after. I am left to my devices, what will make me prettier better a painting come to life. I run into the store mid-auditions, after lunches, to freshen up, to try something I’d never buy like that forty five dollar Channel bronzer.

At 30, I am smart, sassy, outspoken, married, a new mom. I am better than make up but it’s an old habit and those don’t die, they can only dwindle if you look the other way, but I can’t. I am sleepless and sore from breast feeding, I am a walking zombie, but two coats of Great Lash calm me down.

I want to say make up brings me happiness, because it does. But I don’t know why I fucking need it so much. I don’t know why my purse is eternally weighed down by expensive compacts and cover up sticks and blush brushes. I don’t know why I can wear the same shirts for weeks and years but I buy new lip balms every few days and when I do I spend too much  - do you want a basket, honey? - and I give away all my old shit to the babystter’s daughters and I am joyful as I unwrap the new stash, the beautiful cellophane tearing like transluscent skin.

My mother curled her lashes with a kitchen knife and that was it. There was nothing to pilfer from her pocketbook or bedroom nightstand. She showed her freckles as they were. She had pretty, mauve lips that never saw a purchased shade, not until I began buying and sharing. So where, then? Where does it come from - me at the vanity, expert now, at how to become flawless. It is a vestige of feeling hapless, worthless, less than, a foreigner. The one way to mesh in, to blend in, was by literally doing just that. By snapping my fingers and voila; a better version, a face like I dreamed of - perfect, pleasant, like an American sitcom.

At thirty-seven, I go to a beach house with my family. I pack my pink Marc Jacobs cosmetics bag, just golden sun-kissed colors, copper shimmers, plus Bobbi Brown eyebrow pencil, plus a base, just in case, plus three different face creams. But somehow I’ve forgotten the mascara. The mascara is crucial. It brings out the blue in my gray eyes, and helps me look awake. It’s not waterproof but that doesn’t matter. For three days, i tan and swim and play board games with the neighbors and laugh and eat burgers grilled to perfection, all the while hoping no one notices my eyelashes, which, without help, look like thinning whiskers. I ponder running out for groceries and stopping by a drugstore, anything will do, Rimmel, NYX, whatever. But I don’t. I tell myself i can do it. I tell myself i am a grown up, I am curvy and newly bronzed from midday rays, and I am fine. My hair smells like seasalt and Pantene. I don’t need make up. I am laying in the sand, on the water’s edge, and it doesn’t matter what my eyes look like. My husband loves me and he’s seen me worse. It’s ok.

We get back home and I go upstairs and find the shiny tubes, so many, Black Noir, Volume Pump, Smashbox Photo Op. I take a shower and wipe my face clean. And then I cover it all up.

I go downstairs to feed the dog. 

  • James: What’s going on?
  • Sirius: Wouldn’t you like to know?
  • Remus: Padfoot…
  • Sirius: This is the funnest thing I’ve got to do in, since, well, last week. But let me savor it.
  • James: Come on!
  • Peter: Tell us.
  • Remus: What?
  • Sirius: Uncle Alphard died.
  • Peter: [Confused] Your uncle?
  • Remus: [Says flatly] The one of exactly two people who you’re related to that you can actually stand?
  • James: Um, that’s fun how?
  • Sirius: That isn’t the fun part, obviously.
  • Remus: Right…
  • Sirius: The old man wasn’t that old. Merlin, it’s disturbing, how none of my relatives live to a decently ripe age. He was only forty. But he had a great life. His last words were an inappropriate pass at the Healer tending to him. Pretty good one, too. I made a mental note of it.
  • Remus: So, your uncle died.
  • Sirius: Uncle Alphard was actually pretty cool and, for some reason, he always liked me. He wasn’t the head of the family or anything, but he did have some respectable purse strings. Long story short, I am, once again, an insufferably wealthy bugger.
  • James: [Grins] Mate, you never stopped being insufferable.
  • Peter: You’re rich! Erm, again!
  • Sirius: Ridiculously. I mean, I’m certainly not Prongs. And I’m not as well off as I would’ve been before I flipped the bird at the House of Blackened Horrors - not by a long shot. But I’ve got money! I’m no longer an impoverished stray!
  • James: Cheers to that!
  • Remus: Drinks are on Padfoot.
  • Peter: Bottoms up!
  • Sirius: Hear! Hear!

anonymous asked:

When you say you're androgyne is that like how everyone thinks that Sailor Uranus is a guy and she just rolls with it

Hmm, kind of.  Like Haruka, I’ve had a lot of straight girls hit on me and then freak out when I spoke. (Because my voice is very “girly”, apparently.)  The funniest was when I was walking home one day from class an a whole car of girls slowed down and started cooing at me, and when I looked up in surprise and said, “Hi?” they all screamed and peeled away. It took me a few seconds to register what had happened. I’ve also had straight girls try to flirt with me when I was trying to work in the library or at a cafe by myself.  Whenever I am shopping/dining somewhere 90% of the time I get called “Sir.”

While that is amusing/embarrassing, there’s another side to it that really bothers me a lot.  I am afraid of using public bathrooms because most of the time I get harassed, women in there will give me cold stares or outright tell me to leave.  Kids will loudly ask their moms why there’s a man in the girls’ bathroom.  A few times I’ve actually been physically assaulted with purses and stuff (usually by old women) just for trying to pee or wash my hands. I wonder if Haruka has that problem too. I like to imagine Michiru giving the harasassers this death glare and saying, “How dare you treat my wife this way??”

And they’d be so shocked (OMG a girl?? OMG gay??? O-MG…)their head would explode. (This exact situation happened to me and Ash recently.)

Everlark Drabble - The Window

Hi All, this story has been swimming in my head for a while so it’s time I finally wrote it out. It is inspired by A How I Met Your Mother episodes. Props if you know which one it is. So I hope you all enjoy it. 

“The Window”

I look at the numbers for what seems like the hundredth time and nothing is making sense. Ten pounds of broccoli? That doesn’t sound right. Letting out a sigh of frustration, I bang my head on my cluttered desk, and keep it there, too exhausted to think, let alone move. That’s it, I’ll just work on it at home. It will be quiet anyway since Lily will be spending the weekend with her father and his new girlfriend. Too quiet actually.


“Katniss, I need to take my 30 minute break, can you take over for me?” I pick my head up to see the restaurant hostess Lexi at the doorway giving me a sympathetic look. She knows I’ve had very little sleep since my little girl has been battling a cold the last few days. I’ve been out a lot and this is the first time I’ve had a chance to finally do my job, which was manage the restaurants supply needs and budget. I’m lucky I have such a patient boss who allows for my flexible schedule and to work at home when needed.


“Sure thing Lexi. I’ll be right there.”


“Thanks Katniss. Oh, and I should warn you, it’s pretty vicious out there right now. Everyone woman in the town must know by now.” When I give her a quizzical look she just shakes her head and laughs at how dense I am.


“About Peeta.”

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