caught on a whim

Going with the argument route here :) (Modern College AU)

In hindsight, the argument was beyond stupid, but when you pair stubbornness with stubbornness, the end result is a shouting match followed by slamming doors and the silent treatment.

Keith knew that approaching Lance about this very attractive lab partner would be a bad idea, but he just had to know if something more was going on. People talked, and he caught whim of some gossip concerning Lance leaning a little too close to said attractive lab partner.

Lance reacted just as Keith expected, but instead of dropping the subject, Keith fired back just as hard with cheating accusations until the two stormed off to their separate dorm rooms.

For two days, Lance shut Keith out entirely, and Keith wouldn’t admit it out loud, but it was tearing him up in a way that manifested into physical illness. He could hardly sleep, and eating was out of the question. Pair that with school stress, Lance stress, and the fresher’s flu bouncing around, and Keith was left feeling terrible.

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“I didn’t know you could draw,” Laurent said casually, flipping through the pages of his sketchbook.

“I’m not much of an artist,” Damen replied.  He was surprised by how calmly he stood there, unperturbed as Laurent appraised every single one of his sketches. Even Nikandros had only seen a select few before Damen gave in to the urge to snatch the book back; the drawings were private, a secret hobby that he guarded from those around him. Laurent was a stranger.

“Nonsense,” he mused, and Damen had to correct himself. Laurent was a man he had known for three days, but he wasn’t a stranger. In some ways, Damen felt like he knew him better than he knew most of the people at home.

“I could draw you,” he found himself saying, “if you’d like.”

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Elorcan Werewolf AU Part 2

I really didn’t expect anyone to even read part 1, so I was sure as hell shocked when I saw that people even liked it. So thank you for even bothering to look this over when I would have probably skipped it myself. 

Summary: Vernon’s a rat (nothing new) and now Elide has to face the consequences of not showing up at the mating ball. And put up with her mate.

Only to find

myself lost

Once again

Elorcan Werewolf 2

Elide decided to make a chocolate cake since what girl didn’t like chocolate? It would be a celebratory cake for the Fireheart Pack making it through their first mating ball alive.

Unfortunately, the moon goddess had other plans.

Elide! Aelin screamed down the pack link.

Elide let out a startled cry, accidentally dropping the batter. Hissing in frustration, she grabbed a sponge.

What is it?

Your uncle Vernon leaked to the cadre about your absence. I’ll kill that bastard. He doesn’t deserve the Alpha position.

Fear leaked through Elide.

What’s going to happen to me?

Aelin didn’t answer right away, and Elide could sense her distress. She left the remains of the cake on the floor and hurried to the weaponry room.

For your apparent insolence, Lorcan Salvaterre wants to whip you. Hide in the dungeons. He can’t detect your scent there among the other prisoners.


Yes. He’s heading into your direction.

Where are you?

Aelin paused. Then growled: Running away from my mate.

Elide’s eyes widened as she stuffed a couple of daggers down her boots, and stuffed medicine into her pouch. 

Why are you running away from your mate? Mates were precious, a gift from the moon goddess herself. Life without a mate passed without true purpose or happiness. 

Because my mate is Prince Rowan Whitethorn, Lycan and heir to the Doranelle throne. 

Elide didn’t have time to be shocked as her connection with Aelin blasted with fear. Before she could ask, her front door banged open, a low growl piercing the empty air. 

Elide didn’t go to the dungeon. She’d had been trapped in one for her entire youth, and there was no way in hell she’d let a Lycan cow her into one. 

So she slung the pack over her shoulder, and sprinted as fast as she could with her ruined ankle to the back door, and slid into Aelin’s camaro. After dutifully clicking on her seat belt, she slammed on the pedal and steered the car with impressive strategy through the woods into the main road.

If she made it into the completely human cities, then she’d be safe. Lycans had a covenant under Pack law to not step foot into mortal land for their safety as their temperament could wreck cities.

Elide sent a quick message down the pack link of her plan, and then palmed a knife in her hand. She wouldn’t go down without a fight. There was a time she’d been defenseless, but she was no longer that girl anymore.

A howl sounded through the air, and a small part of Elide yearned to slam on the brakes and comfort the wolf. But Elide wasn’t going to listen to that part of her that might kill her, so she pressed the gas pedal harder.

Survival first.

Don’t use the main roads, Aelin let out a strangled sound down the link. He’s sending his bribed police officers in to slow you down.

Elide let out a curse that would have made Manon proud. She didn’t know why Lorcan was so bent on punishing her. The entire world didn’t revolve around them, and sure as hell didn’t live to satisfy their every whim and urge. 

As soon as she caught sight of the flashing red and blue lights of police cars, Elide swerved the car into the forests. She expertly drove through the line of trees, both fallen and drooping as if expecting her unwelcomed entrance. 

What she lacked for her werewolf form, she made it up with driving. When Aelin had became Alpha, she’d gained all of Arobynn’s previous debts. To force her to step down, most of the Alphas had demanded that Aelin pay them immediately.

Elide had helped by racing on the streets, much to Aelin’s and Manon’s protests. She didn’t mind. It meant she could serve and be helpful in other ways rather than doing laundry and washing dishes.

When she’d been beaten Lycan Fenrhys in a drag race, she’d gained over one trillion in dollars, no one believing a little girl could out race one of the cadre, betting against her. Fenrhys had demanded that Elide take off her pale mask she wore to protect her identity, but as soon as her hands had gotten a hold of the money, she had booked it.

The way the male had looked at her like she was his next meal  —

Elide shuddered.

When the forest cleared out, Elide hit the side streets. Her fingers gripped the wheel tightly as she zoomed past the edges of her pack’s border at 250 mph. There was no way Lorcan could catch her.

Or so she thought.

The same dark blur flashed past the car, and a blink later, Elide saw a male standing in the middle of the road, arms crossed. The aura of power and dominance oozing from the male was enough for Elide to slam on the gas pedals.

She would not stop for anyone.

The male seemed to realize that Elide would run him over, but also seemed to have a death wish, because right when the car was a fraction of an inch from his chest, he easily sidestepped, a brow raised.

Elide flung the dagger out the window in his direction, and then pressed the pedal harder.

There was no way. There was no way a werewolf — even a Lycan — could run that fast. But it seemed like fate wanted to test her today.

The passenger door of the car ripped open, and Elide screamed as a body slid into the shotgun seat with the ease of gracefulness and elegance. She slammed on the brakes, watching in satisfaction as the male’s body hit the dashboard — served him right for having absolutely no manners and not bothering to buckle up.

Before she could reach for the dagger in her boot, the male snarled, and lifted himself up.

A large, muscular body with ropes of corded muscle looming over her.

The hunt had ended. 

And Elide knew she’d been captured as soon as those onyx eyes locked onto her.

“You ran away from me, Elide Lochan.” His canines elongated, and Elide shivered at his low voice, that granite rough-hewn face. Her pulse throbbed as the male’s eyes raked her over.

The Lycan leaned forward, resting his jaw against her collarbone, a warm breath caressing her skin.

Elide swallowed harshly.

She felt the edges of his teeth gently scrape against her flesh, the male inhaling her scent greedily.

“Did you know,” Lorcan breathed, sending sparks and shivers down her skin. “You ran away from your mate, Elide Lochan?”

The Breath Aspect and its God Tiers/Classpect Roles

Keywords: Disconnected, Apathetic, Indifference, Detachment, Options, Liberties, Freedoms, Independence, Movement, Separated, Flexibility, Airy, Immaterial, Intangible

Symbols: Pnuema, Wind, Wings/Flight, Bubbles

Breath is one of the 12 Aspects of Homestuck. Its Opposite is the Aspect Blood. When I think of Breath, I think of the pure Disconnects between yourself and everything around you. It is the choice to be Apathetic and Indifferent with maintaining the Bonds that you have. It is any and all Detachments from anything that you willingly have. It is the Options and Liberties that you willingly make or have for yourself. It is your Freedom from the matters and concerns of anyone other than you. It is your Independence from people and their Independence of you. Breath is what Moves and Separates you. Those Flexible things that you pick up and put down on whims. It is the Airy world of the Immaterial and the Spirit of the Pnuema, those things that exist Intangibly that you can’t touch or hold. Breath fills your Spirit with the Air and Lifts you Up on Wings, Separating you from everything. It is this Flexibility of Movement that lets you go wherever and whenever you please, nothing able to hold you down in one place.

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maryjabassa  asked:

pls can you talk more about your tags in this post? twoquickdeaths(.)tumblr(.)com/post/153693799095

sure thing! 

so physicality as character is my really (really) verbose way of describing character actions that explicitly utilize the body, usually at the expense of the body itself. i love horror/sci-fi/action movies most than any other genre because by their very construction character’s bodies are the narrative. the alien HAS to rip out of you in order to be born, to time travel you HAVE to be totally bare and nude, to protect furiosa you have to put yourself and the life of your child on the line, because there is no other way.

it’s faster than introspection because it allows the audience to see the willingness of the character to withstand pain, to go against the ultimate survival instinct of staying away.


bc they begin with superman, and superman is the ultimate physicality as character character. man of steel didn’t do it first, but znyder and co. really did push it best. clark’s powers, his physical prowess, his mere existence, changes the course of the narrative in this universe. and what’s amazing about clark is what’s always been amazing about clark, HE GIVES ALL OF HIMSELF IN ORDER TO PROTECT PEOPLE. it’s not that he can die. we know he can’t die. there’s too much money to be made lol IT’S THAT WHEN DOOMSDAY STABS HIM CLARK PULLS HIMSELF INTO THE SHARP BONE BC IT WILL DESTROY DOOMSDAY.

now it’s not always about self sacrifice and grand hurrah moments for heroes, but that’s the stage where we’ve been with hero movies for a long time. it’s about the spectacle and the reaction, not the action and the cost. that’s why i think the dcu throws a lot of people off. there are consequences, and a lot of them HURT the characters or paint them in a negative (as opposed to bad) light.

in mos and bvs we have been shown just glimpses of what metahumans and beings like clark are capable of. it’s just the surface. suicide squad presents us with beings who have always existed this way, who have been caught, who are now at the whim of authority who absolutely does not care about them to the point where their bodies literally don’t belong to them anymore. i sentimentally wrote, body as more worthy than the soul, but amanda waller’s not like that. she doesn’t care about their souls either. she doesn’t care about their minds or what they think or whether they want to be part of the squad or not. they have no mind, no purpose, and their bodies aren’t theirs, they belong to the government. the only way they can make it out is to rebel, but freedom literally equals death. waller is pavlov in this, she hardwires the squad into submission and they have no choice but to conform.

here’s where harley’s gymnastics comes in. in this small space she has. in this tiny corner of the prison world. she has this skill and the means to use it. they cannot take this away from her. they cannot rip this skill from her mind. she uses it to sleep and to practice and it comforts her. later, we see this skill is important in her escape, and it’s a huge moment for her character, but also a huge moment for deadshot, because it’s about him as well, and his skill. it’s a moment where waller absolutely has no control over them, and even though it gets them nothing, it solidifies the trust and devotion they already have for each other and it showcases how skilled and strong they are.

all of my favorite dcu moments are physicality as character moments. the man of steel oil rig scene that i just can’t believe exists to this day (one day i’ll go beat by beat why it’s a stunning sequence), the batman saving martha sequence in bvs and in suicide squad when floyd is shooting down enchantress’s black tar things and everyone just watches in awe because holy hell. THIS IS WHAT THIS PERSON IS CAPABLE OF this is how powerful they are and strong they are. and he is a protector.

i could cry about this all day. actually i do cry about this all day lol. 

Iron Man / The Avengers: Anthony Edward Stark [ESFP]

OFFICIAL TYPING by Charity / The Mod.

Extroverted Sensing (Se): Tony is comfortable engaging with the environment and using it to the best of his ability; when imprisoned, he uses the objects around him to invent the first Iron Man. He is comfortable in high-risk situations and enjoys physical engagement. Prior to finding “a purpose” as Iron Man, Tony is a playboy, caught up in indulging all his sensual whims (gorgeous women, fine cars, expensive parties, etc). Each situation is an “experience” for Tony, who goes straight for the quickest solution to resolve problems. He uses the world, connecting to and finding its possibility, without difficulty or hesitation – and nearly gets himself killed multiple times in the process. For the most part, he lets Pepper run his companies, preferring to “play” instead of “work.”

Introverted Feeling (Fi): Until the sales of weapons impacts Tony directly, he doesn’t care about them – and then once he reaches a hard line moral conclusion that it is wrong, he refuses to further make or sell weapons, which threatens the company’s bottom line. Tony’s Fi is unhealthy, in the sense that he often sticks to his own moral beliefs, without considering the fall out (refusing to sell weapons means closing some of his businesses, forcing hundreds of thousands of people into unemployment; he also disregards Cap’s feelings about Bucky, focusing on his own intense beliefs and need for revenge). Tony’s emotions bottle up, sometimes over years (his anguish over the last argument he had with his parents, finally exploding with rage when he finds out who killed them).

Extroverted Thinking (Te): CONTROL. Tony strives for it, constantly; he believes humans need monitored and protected, and that the Avengers need a check… government oversight. He sees a logical problem (the mass damage they have caused) and goes straight for the obvious solution (a contract forcing them to abide by rules) rather than engaging in creative thinking or finding loopholes (unlike Cap, whose Ti has analyzed the problems of governmental oversight). When Cap refuses to agree and sign the document, Tony recruits and avidly tries to force him into obedience. Tony often loops through Se/Te, creating brutal frankness in conversation, harsh insults and criticisms of others, and a tendency to disregard personal feelings to accomplish a task (ignoring Cap’s feelings about Bucky). Financial gain has little motive over Tony, who can put together business proposals but prefers to leave running companies to Pepper.

Introverted Intuition (Ni): Tony tinkers with inventions, but all of them pertain in some way to Iron Man after awhile. He fixates on this one project, obsessively refining and perfecting the suit. He reaches singular conclusions, a sense of what he believes is going to happen or what will “fix” the problem, and refuses to change his mind, which leads to conflict with the other types. It’s ONE WAY, all the way. Under stress, Tony becomes convinced of catastrophic impending events, and disaster around every turn. He becomes so caught up in this vision, he can’t see any other possibility or solution. Further, sometimes his excitement over creating things fails to take into account the futuristic fall-out (Ultron).

Note: I know, I know. I’m going to take heat for this typing. Stereotypes want Iron Man an ENTP. This one is not. No Ne. None. One solution, one object, one interest, one resolution to every problem is not Ne. Half the movies are about Tony reacting to and engaging the environment (Se) and fixating on a single opinion (Ni). He also has no Ti. His adaptability comes from Se, but when presented with difficult problems, Tony locks into using control, force, and rules (Te), rather than inventing a new system (Ti). The last movie really showcases this, with his single solution of “sign the document.” His raging emotions turn up frequently, far more than futuristic insight. Tony internalizes feels until he loses it. His PTSD a few movies back showed his inability to articulate emotion outwardly, instead leading into a depressive, paranoid spiral. There is a margin of error for ENTJ, since Tony does spend most of his time in an unhealthy loop, but he exhibits the paranoid symptoms of lower Ni, and he appears much more capable with Se than Te, suggesting it’s the dominant. Some of his decisions are incredibly short-sighted (Ultron??).

halcyonic-days  asked:

oh yea I totally forgot did you see gotg2? i never saw the first but I got caught up on seeing the second on a whim release night. i'll probably watch the 1st on my own and then go re-see 2 for context lol

I did, yeah.

Dandelion (SpideyNova)

Word Count: 2948
Synopsis: Aunt May should have known better than to assign Peter and Sam chores together. Sarcasm escalates into insults, insults into jibes, and jibes into the rehashing of half-buried memories and sensitive secrets. If Peter had known a dandelion crown would cause this much trouble, he would have kept his hands to himself.

Note: Here’s one of the prompts! The anon asked for either Sam and Peter hanging out, or some angst; I did both. There’s more cute and fluffy than angst, though!

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Love at First Sight

You aren’t with the FAHC more than a couple of weeks before they begin to question. Question how the two of you met; question why you’re so loyal to each other; question how you ended up together when you’re so very different.

They don’t realize how similar you really are.

Maybe if they had been there the night you met they would understand, understand the instantaneous and overwhelming connection that had formed between the two of you. Maybe they would understand if they had been there and had seen:

You shocked, still not quite comprehending how you’re still alive and why your target’s dead. Your breathing is heavy and your mind is racing as you drag your eyes from the fat, dead body up and up and up. You take in the calm figure standing over the body, not tense or shaking at all, and take in the knife covered in blood, clutched in a tan hand. You take in the luxurious but revealing clothing and the flashy gold jewelry resting against naked skin almost like a brand.

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Closing Night of FUN HOME

The orchestra got a standing ovation as they entered. Deafening applause for Beth Malone’s entrance, Emily Skeggs’s “Changing My Major,” Judy Kuhn’s “Days and Days,” and Gabriella Pizzolo’s “Ring of Keys.” Tesori, Kron, Gold, and all the understudies joined the cast for bows. Real Deal Alison Bechdel closed out the night. Michael Cerveris, with Gabriella Pizzolo on his back, stood just outside the wings to watch the orchestra play the final bows. We all watched and we all cried.

Happy closing, Fun Home. I caught this show back at the Public on a whim, and am happy to have come back a few times. If Fun Home is an indication of where musical theater goes next as an art form, we’re in great shape.

Malec Drabble Alphabet - O

O - Opulent

Alec was not exactly used to the same caliber of things that Magnus was. Shadowhunters were glorified soldiers and, though there was a certain amount of indulgence they allowed, they tended to favor the functional over the extravagant. They were an old community, with a lot of history, but apart from their weapons and the revered mortal instruments, not a lot of importance was put into things.

Magnus, of course, was the complete opposite, just as he was in many things. He liked luxury and comfort and, above all, stuff. And, as Alec was learning, there really wasn’t anything wrong with that. If something as simple as an inanimate object made you happy, who was he to say that it was trivial or useless? That was like someone telling him his bow didn’t matter, when it was actually a part of who he was. For Magnus, all his stuff, his trinkets, his books were memories of hundreds of years of life. It was amazing and sobering to think about. He finally understood why the other man had been so adamant to get the ruby necklace that Alec’s sister now wore back. 

It was still a lot to get used to, though. It was just so strange sometimes to have things, little luxuries, readily available to him on a daily basis, only because of his relationship with Magnus.

Magnus, who also loved to give gifts (again, Izzy’s necklace was the perfect example of that; it was payment, sure, but it was only the warlock’s good mood that had allowed him to be so generous in that payment). He especially seemed to love giving things to Alec.

Thing was, Magnus was also exceedingly good at it. Though he himself had a penchant for the excessive, he knew that Alec did not. His gifts reflected that. They were just so thoughtful every single time that it always made a rush of affection run through the shadowhunter’s chest, so much so that it actually ached. It was just such a wonderful feeling to know that the person most important to you felt the same way about you.

Now some of his favorite possessions had come from Magnus. Like the sweater he’d received in the early months of their relationship; it looked like any other article of clothing in his limited collection, but it was so soft that Alec instinctively realized that it hadn’t been cheap. But Magnus, being Magnus, wouldn’t tell him a thing about that, only telling him that he thought it would suit him. And, really, it did. Plus the first time he wore it on one of their rare dates out, the warlock had gotten this look in his eyes that was simultaneously tender and full of unadulterated want. Suffice it to say he wore that sweater a lot now.

It was heady to know he had that kind of power over someone so seemingly untouchable. Alec vowed to never purposely use that power against him.

There were also other things, given to him just because. Simple things like the types of snacks he liked, a book the other man thought he would interested in and once even a pair of socks (‘there are holes in the pair you’re wearing, I simply cannot allow that’). And then there were the grander gestures. That night they’d spent in Paris, a complete act of spontaneity on Magnus’ part when he noticed how stressed the shadowhunter had been getting. The potions and spells that were meticulously prepared for him, just in case he ever needed them (‘I would prefer that you remain intact, Alexander’).

And then there was the key to the warlock’s loft, attached to a shiny keychain of an arrowhead and another of a glittery disco ball. That added bit of flare had made it all the more Magnus, and Alec really loved anything Magnus.

But by the Angel, Magnus was so good at this kind of stuff and Alec… Alec was not.

He tried, really he did, but he always seemed to get it wrong. He just wasn’t as instinctively aware of what other people wanted. Izzy had always told him (with a certain amount of fondness) that his gifts were the worst; still, she kept them all. As did Magnus, even when it was something stupid like a glittery rock he found one day that reminded him of the other man’s true eyes, the glints of gold and green so similar to Magnus’ warlock mark. Magnus was always kind about his failure as a gift-giver though (in fact, that rock now sat proudly on the mantle piece).

“As clichéd as it sounds, it is the thought that counts, darling,” the other man had once told him. “Besides, I do actually like your gifts, they’re very you.”

Still, despite the reassurances, Alec felt like he could do more.

Fortunately, it was that determination that allowed him to sometimes, just sometimes, get it right.

It was the week of their first anniversary as a couple, and Alec we undeniably nervous about it. Logically he knew that this should be an exciting time (and truthfully it was) but he wanted to make this special for Magnus. He’d been thinking for weeks about what to do, what to get, but kept drawing a frustrating blank.

In the end, it was Izzy who gave him the idea (thank Raziel for his sister and her endless involvement in his life). It was so deceptively simple that at first Alec dismissed it… but then it occurred to him that an anniversary was not so much about opulence, or grandiosity, as it was about showing how much you cared. With that thought, he’d quickly bought was he needed, whilst simultaneously asking Izzy to help with finishing touches.

The morning of their anniversary, Alec had woken up extra early and set about making chocolate-chip pancakes, all the while eyeing his somewhat badly wrapped present (he really didn’t have an eye for color schemes and the like… well, unless the color was black). Angel, why was he so nervous? Even if he didn’t like it, it was hardly like Magnus would change how he felt about him over something like this, right? Right?

All too soon, the pancakes were done and Alec swiftly put them on a tray along with the gift, carrying them quickly to the bedroom. He couldn’t allow himself time to chicken out.

As he entered the bedroom, he saw Magnus already sitting up, hair still sleep-ruffled but eyes wide open and aware. He smiled when he saw what Alec was carrying, a rare, full smile, one solely reserved for Alec.

“For me? My Alexander, you shouldn’t have,” he said, all mirth and twinkling eyes.

Something about the warlock’s happy mood set Alec at ease, making him feel almost giddy. The knot of nervousness finally loosened in his stomach, and he couldn’t help but tease. “Well in that case, I’ll just eat all these pancakes myself,” he replied, sitting down at the end of the bed, holding the tray in his lap.

“Hand them here, Alexander. We do not joke about pancakes.”

The shadowhunter let out a surprised laugh at the childish antics (he saw them so infrequently), but did as told. Still feeling slightly giddy, he spontaneously leaned over and kissed Magnus, intending it to be short and sweet but not protesting when it turned into something more. When he detached himself, slightly out of breath, he spoke again.

“Happy anniversary, Magnus,” he whispered softly, hearing the vulnerability in his own voice.

“It is indeed, darling,” the other man replied, just as gently. “And thank you.” Something about his gaze was unspeakably warm as he ran a hand through Alec’s hair, pulling him in for a last, swift peck.

Alec cleared his throat awkwardly, sitting back. “Don’t thank me yet, you haven’t opened your present yet.”

“Ah yes, how could I forget?” With that, he picked up the package and promptly tore at the wrapping. The utter excitement of the action caused Alec to smile again. It was ironic (and kind of cute) that Magnus Bane, centuries old and one of the most powerful beings in existence, got excited by wrapping paper.

Soon enough, he held his gift in hand. The warlock stared at it for a long time, his expression inscrutable. It was a photo album, like so many of the others that Magnus already had. The cover design was beautiful, even Alec had to admit, deep purple and embossed with delicate gold designs. It was bold and loud but also undeniably a bit fragile, quite like Magnus himself actually. The warlock seemed to unfreeze suddenly, flipping it open to find a picture already stuck in there. It was one Isabelle had taken a while back and also the inspiration for the present as a whole when she’d shown it to him on a whim. It showed Alec and Magnus, caught mid-laugh, hands clutching at each other. Magnus’ head was thrown back, his eyes heavenward, where Alec only had eyes for the warlock. Izzy told him that it was her favorite picture of them; Alec had to agree. The next few pages contained a few more pictures, gathered by him and his sister from their circle of friends. Still, the photo album was mostly empty; save for the few pictures, there was only one other thing. On the inside cover, there was small line of cramped writing.

For our memories.


Alec stared at Magnus nervously, trying to see what he was thinking. But the warlock still hadn’t looked away from the album. Finally, the younger man cracked. “Um, I just thought that it would be nice, you know, for you to have something to put pictures of us in.” Obviously, you idiot, it’s a photo album. “I mean, I know how much you like taking them so I thought I’d get one just for us, you know? I don’t know, maybe it was stupid, we have computers now and–”

“Alexander.” Something in Magnus’ tone made him stop immediately, glancing at the warlock and meeting his oddly glossy (vulnerable, Alec later realized) eyes. “It’s not stupid at all, it’s perfect,” he said, completely sincere, his tone brooking no argument.

And Alec guessed that it was, judging by his boyfriend’s reaction. For a moment, he seemed almost melancholic, swallowing harshly against something, but then he smiled and it was so beautiful that Alec could have sworn his heart stopped. Magnus nearly tackled him in a hug, pancakes forgotten as he pulled the shadowhunter into passionate, surprisingly sloppy kiss. His happiness was catching, and soon they were both laughing into each other’s mouths, probably looking utterly ridiculous.

Not that either of them cared, really. This moment was just theirs, after all. And to commemorate it, the very first picture Magnus added was one he snapped just after, both mussed and still in pajamas but also smiling for no other reason than that they had each other.

And when the photo album remained permanently in the first drawer Magnus’ bedside table, a place of honor, Alec couldn’t help but feel a little proud.

All alphabet drabbles are tagged under malecalphabet 


An unusual fairytale about a cannibalistic librarian by Haruki Murakami and artist Chip Kidd

The Strange Library
by Haruki Murakami (author) and Chip Kidd (artist)
2014, 96 pages, 5.5 x 8.4 x 0.3 inches (paperback)
$10 Buy a copy on Amazon

I bought this book on a whim. It was the cover that caught my eye. The big cartoon eyes and snarling leopard’s mouth spliced together to make a goofy yet menacing face instantly drew me over to it. I flipped it over and read a summary so bizarre that I felt obligated to buy it. When I got home I opened the book by separating the cartoon eyes from the leopard’s mouth. Inside this vertical flap was another set of unsettling images. Where the normal book cover should be there was the first page of the story. At this point I knew I was in for a truly original reading experience.

Part of this experience is due to Haruki Murakami’s unusual fairytale about a schoolboy, a sheep man, and a ghost girl trying to escape a terrifying library and its cannibalistic librarian. The other part is due to its beautiful design by legendary book cover artist Chip Kidd. He did a masterful job bringing this novella to life with striking images and a truly unique layout. The pictures and typography evolve with the story. Each turn of the page brings something new and exciting. It’s a story in a category all its own with a design to match. – Kye Wood

March 19, 2015

True Blue Me & You’s Most Popular Posts of 2013 Based on Notes. Part 2. Part 1 here. What I learned: infographics are very popular. What is popular on Tumblr, Pinterest and what people outside Tumblr look at on True Blue Me & You is very different. Papercrafts, cats, food and fandom DIYs are usually more popular than jewelry and fashion DIYs on Tumblr. #6 Harry Potter Monopoly and #9 Ashley Gilreath’s magnificent necklace are my favorites in the entire popular list.

  1. Roundup of Fourteen Ways To Knot Your Belt from Fashionrolla. 6,424 Notes
  2. A Guide to Jewelry Chain Types from Design Thrift. 6,735 Notes
  3. Book Clutch Tutorial from Caught on a Whim. 6,828 Notes
  4. Fashion Pattern Vocabulary Infographic Part 1 from Enerie here. Fashion Pattern Vocabulary Part 2 Infographic and Know Your Dress Vocabulary. 8,201 Notes
  5. Natural Fabric Dyes Chart and How To Dye Fabric from Anjou Clothing. 8,867 Notes
  6. Harry Potter Monopoly Game from Design in Technology here. How to download the printables. 15,738 Notes
  7. Cactus Cupcake Tutorial from Alana Jones-Mann. 18,548 Notes
  8. DIY Dolce & Gabbana Baroque Applique Tights Tutorial from Cocorosa. 15,920 Notes
  9. “I Am Who They Were” Necklace by Artist Ashley Gilreath. 30,124 Notes




Literally written on the tree is “Arbor Vitae” and I looked it up as there’s an Arbor Vitae Cemetery in CA!!!  1301 Roberts Ave, Madera, CA 93637

 I live on the other side of the US so, could anyone check it out??


I have a lot of complex thoughts about the refugee crisis after living in the heart of it for a solid length of time, and I would just caution everyone away from cynicism over it. It’s a unheard of situation, no easy or clean solution for a complex problem that’s never been encountered. I don’t pretend to understand even half the nuances. But truly, so many people are helping. It isn’t a delicate nuance. It’s a bold point blank truth. So many people are working very hard to help other people, and so many people are thriving, engaging in pursuits and creating opportunities.
It’s really easy to get caught up in macros, in projected millions and governments and policies and economies, but if you’re far away from where it’s happening I promise you as someone who was for a long time (and now, home in Hawaii, am as far away as anyone could be), that on a micro level, on the level of people to people, much is being done. Things like me and Kate taking all the tampons (hundreds, my god, the combined wealth of six women living together with no room left in their suitcases when they moved out) left in our house to a shelter in Istanbul and being met with a donation line that went out the door, and boxes overflowing; civilians who live throughout the Mediterranean and Aegean sea are patrolling the water to rescue capsized boats, like the man whose Airbnb we stayed at in Cyprus. I have friends in Amsterdam organizing classes that crash course basic Arabic, Turkish, and English. I met one complete babe who had been whisked out of Palestine in the middle of the night as a little boy, and knew his way around a Slayer espresso machine in Berlin with such finesse you’d die and kissed even better. I was talking with a French-Tunisian friend on skype not a few weeks ago who isdoing her MA in psychology, and related a fast growing interest amongst her peers to train in the intercultural treatment of PTSD, and in developing coping exercises to treat shocks of resettlement. In Ankara, I got to sit in on a fascinating series of comparative literature lectures given by scholars from Syria (both of whom, I might add, where on loan from the UK where they had received asylum and now taught) Lebanon, Greece, Massachusetts, and Iran, followed by the best workshop where I wrote something again for the first time in months after being a part of such a stimulating dialogue about syntax. These are the things I myself have witnessed in my own limited life experience. I know there are so many other stories. Stories from the people taking part, who are still living them. I urge everyone to share them in the face of hateful political soundbites and fake life jackets. Stories of adjustment, normality, gestures.
There isn’t a place on this earth that wasn’t at some point the cruelest most unfair place to be born, we’ve always been caught in the whims of war and famine and disease, the history of this life is marked by nothing other than the loss of it, but people aren’t all embittered by the fear or limited by trepidation. There’s no saving some things, but people salvage, and stitch up, and stuff doesn’t look like it used to and it doesn’t look new either but I dunno? It’s still creation. Its still creatively applied force of fuckin will.
People are living their lives. We are not a teeming a anonymous mass. We are not swept away in a mob of fascism and hate. We are learning how to repair the steam wand in a espresso machine. We are packing two duffel bags full of tampons, and renegotiating our worlds.

paleasamoon  asked:

Okay but like. Grocery store AU. Jack probs works bakery, Geoff as store manager, Lil J is a cashier with a stool, Ray is a legendary old employee ("I swear, he did a backflip into a moving shopping cart!"), and you can decide the rest.

Ooh, I like this idea.

I like what’s there so far. And I imagine you mean Li’l J as a cashier who’s allowed to sit up on a stool, but all I initially pictured was him standing on a stool and it made me laugh. Though I think he’d probably do that now and again just to get someone’s attention if he wants them to come over. Cause he can’t just leave, Geoff, and no one will see him if he doesn’t make himself tall!

So there’s still the last three guys… Gavin, I think, is that one person who’s bounced around between different positions, because he’s good with people and eager to work and there aren’t any problems with him necessarily, but he also generally manages to find a way to mess something up at some point wherever he is. He doesn’t mean to, but sometimes displays get knocked over or items get broken or he gets in trouble for riding a shopping cart through the parking lot and hitting a customer’s car.

Ryan I imagine working in the deli. You got Team Same Voice hanging out in that area of the store, both of them well-liked and sweet. But then you have the weird feeling around Ryan when he goes off about cuts of meat and the actual process of obtaining it in more detail than you’d expect, along with random facts that just kind of come up on a whim. And sometimes Jack can be caught when he’s grumpy and pissed off, cause someone moved all his shit around and messed it up, and after he made everyone cupcakes, c’mon guys!

Then Michael would be asset protection/security, to prevent theft. He ends up getting Ryan or Gavin to look at video recording stuff when that has to be done, cause he prefers to go around and actually catch people. Michael has been told a few times that yelling at people and bull rushing potential shoplifters is not acceptable, and they do not need to fend off another attempted lawsuit because of it.

And I love that Ray is this legendary employee, and stories of him continue to grow bigger and grander and more spectacular with each retelling. But then he comes into the store to visit, and any of the newer employees who only heard the stories (like Jeremy) are kind of surprised when Ray’s one of the most laid back people, complete with shitty jokes, video game facts, and the worst parkour ability imaginable.