could not be bothered with the colors

anonymous asked:

How do you feel about the concept art gen/ji and mer/cy being a couple? (Idk if thats actually true but I've been seeing it around) The gay part is cool but those characters together is just kinda.... yeah. And I worry what implications that has for the current characters too yknow? Sorry for bothering you with my rambling, don't feel like you have to respond.

Well, think of it this way. Was Gency originally intended? Yes. But did they actually go through with it? Nope. Therefore nothing is canon between the two from the art book. They will remain what they were, a concept.

As for how I feel about Mercy being a man of color, I absolutely adore it. The fact we could’ve had a man of color presented as caring, kind, and as a healer would’ve been such good representation. Not only that, but his design was amazing as well. I’m honestly really sad they decided to go with such a generic blonde girl, but hey, it is what it is.

As for how I would’ve felt about Gency if it had been the male mercy of color, I think I would’ve been able to tolerate it MUCH more than I do now. Most of the reasons I dislike Gency as a whole come from how the fans act. It pains me to say it, but if Mercy had been a man people would’ve treated him so much better than they do female Mercy. She’s so oversexualized and people constantly get her personality and they way she acts wrong. Unfortunately that’s what happens with a lot of girl characters like her. The way they portray her and Genji’s relationship is also very distasteful. I feel if Blizzard had chosen to go with a gay relationship they would’ve built upon it more and at least try to make it more than just what Gency is now, bland girlXguy kind of relationship we seen done over and over again.  

Though, this would’ve meant Genyatta may not be a possibility so, we get what we get. Even though I wish Mercy of color would’ve been a reality, I do appreciate we live in a universe where Genyatta exists. And as the game progresses Genyatta gets more and more content, even the voice actors revealing they ship it.

I’m happy with what we were given, even if it not the best of both worlds. I will always admire what could’ve been.

~ Mod G

What Does Colorism Look Like?

- Songs that praise light skin by devaluing & disrespecting dark skin

- Telling children to “stay out of the sun” because you don’t want them to be darker

- “”“Preferences”“” for light skin 🙃

- People with light skin being listened to more often than people with dark skin

- Light skin being associated with beauty & intelligence in and outside the black community while dark skin is associated with aggression and ugliness

- Favouring family members with light skin immediately over those with dark skin

- Media depicting acceptable blackness as light skin

- When actors/actresses with dark skin are cast, their roles are often loud, aggressive, ghetto, etc

- Or casting actors/actresses with light skin to play characters with dark skin instead of just fucking hiring somebody with dark skin

- Dark skin being the punchline of shitty “jokes” about how nobody could love dark skin

- “We all niggas to the whites” being said to shut down conversations about colorism

- “I don’t realize that talking about colorism isn’t dismissing the struggles I face as a black person, so I’m going to derail conversations about colorism whenever I see them and not bother to learn about it” 🙃

- When the above thing happens people with light skin always think they in the right because colorism teaches us that we’re smarter than people with dark skin and by default right

- Tbh somebody with light skin could just be breathing or doing something mediocre and they get praised to high heaven, which goes back to the idea of light skin being so over valued in our community

- Half of us ain’t even all that we just light

- Makeup catering to people who are white passing or have light skin

- People with dark skin being told they can’t wear certain colors/patterns

- I can guarantee we (light skinned people) salty when a woman with dark skin gets more attention than us because colorism is so pervasive it’s taught us that we’re better and deserve more attention automatically

- Language differences: in daily conversation people with light skin are less dehumanized and more respected than people with dark skin

- I really believe if I wasn’t light I would not be able to do this project because nobody would listen to me. I’m not even saying anything new or inventive, I’m just repeating what people with dark skin have been saying

- If any of this is outta line I’d be more than happy to be corrected by somebody who has experienced/experiences colorism 😊

something that really bothers me about tumblr is that they try to make slytherin’s the “edgy rebels.” 

the slytherin house values/stands for traditionalism. they aren’t going to be getting tattoos or dying their hairs crazy colors. they are going to be polished. wearing heels, wearing satin and lace, have freshly painted nails, wear heels the click against the pavement, wear tailored suits with ties. they are going to have eyeliner so on point and sharp that it could cut through glass.

they aren’t the type to wear combat boots, be edgy, get tattoos, or dye their hair crazy colors. sure, there are exceptions to every rule.. but slytherin’s are the type to have classy wine parties. they are resourceful because they have people skills, they know how to get what they want in a subtle way. they are sneaky and cunning when they want to be. they are polished, and they will follow the rules they want to follow. if they break the rules, it will be quietly. they won’t make a loud statement, they will only make a quiet statement that makes you wonder, “how did that even happen?”

they are a class act. always keeping people on their toes, and always making them think they’re innocent. 

they are like a snake. quiet, sneaky, and they appear cold on the outside.. when really they just want to protect their own. they are quiet, but they’re deadly. it is their mascot for a reason. all the houses mascots represent the people in those houses.

gryffindors are a lion because they charge, they are loud when crossed. they make loud statements by breaking rules or creating them. they want justice. they are like a lioness protecting their cubs when their values are crossed. they roar. 

hufflepuffs are a badger, because badgers are underestimated. they are fierce creatures and badass, but they look cute on the outside. they will be loyal and fight for what they believe in until the very end. 

and ravenclaws are eagles because eagles represent freedom. ravenclaws are all about free expression. eagles also represent wisdom. it shows that you can fly and be free, but you can also see things in the sky others can’t see. 

What your fav loz game says about you
  • The Legend of Zelda: you haven't played any loz games since this one.
  • Zelda II: you own the entire legend of zelda animated series on vhs.
  • A Link to the Past: you're an elitist snob and/or you hate yourself.
  • Four Swords: you just want to be able to beat someone else up with multiplayer.
  • Link's Awakening: you fuckin love whales.
  • Ocarina of Time: good man. who doesn't like this game. your favorite band might be the beatles though.
  • Majora's Mask: your blog title is "welcome to my twisted mind"
  • Oracle of the Ages: you're a twin. your sibling got pokemon blue version.
  • Oracle of the Seasons: you're a twin. your sibling got pokemon red version.
  • Wind Waker: you are easily distracted by bright colors and pretty music so the endless sailing never bothered you. you want link's grandmother to adopt you.
  • Four Swords Adventure: you just want to be able to beat someone else up with multiplayer, but on the gamecube.
  • The Minish Cap: you thought it was adorable that you could become really really small and explore. You also have the hots for vaati.
  • Twilight Princess: you were that kid in elementary school who was way too obsessed with wolves. Possibly a furry.
  • Phantom Hourglass: you want to marry linebeck. I don't understand you. You also managed to get all the different boat designs somehow. How the fuck did you get all the parts for the golden ship. I hate you.
  • Spirit Tracks: you really liked that zelda was a kindof playable character. The overworld theme plays on repeat in your head at all times. Link is so cute as a conductor. Wow link is adorable
  • Skyward Sword: your wii controller actually worked so link's sword went where you swung it.
  • A Link Between Worlds: you were endlessly entertained by just fuckin slamming link into walls. You found every painting link could stand behind so it looked like he had a funny head. chicken link is your god.
  • Hyrule Warriors: you've never actually played a real zelda game.
8

favorite bts songs (in no specific order) spring day 

past the end of the cold winter
until springtime comes again
until flowers bloom again
stay there a little longer

unamedwatcher  asked:

Did you really convince little Steve Rogers that the fireworks on the fourth of July were for his birthday?

actually no. 

that was the handiwork of one mrs sara rogers, who used to take her little asthmatic arrhythmic tiny baby son on the roof to watch the fireworks on his birthday. (mostly so that they didnt have to be in the apartment with steves dad, who had shellshock which he medicated with waaaay too much alcohol, and he was always worse on the fourth, since it sounded like there were explosions going off everywhere. steves dad died when he was three, and my ma said once that mrs rogers might have missed him, but she didnt miss the bruises he left.)

 as it happened, that was how i first met steve–on the roof of the building when i was four and he was turning three. i actually remember it, which is pretty incredible considering how old i was and how swiss-cheese my brain is. but there was mrs sara, with her tiny little baby on her hip. i’d never seen anybody so fair-skinned and blonde as mrs sara and stevie, and the lights off the fireworks painted them all sorts of colors. most of the other little kids were crying and had to be brought inside because the noise scared them, but not baby stevie–he was reaching his little bitty baby hands up, trying to grab the sparkly fireworks. probably the noise didnt bother him because he was partially deaf, but mrs sara always insisted that it was just that he had more courage than could fit inside him. 

generally, she also mentioned that all that courage had taken up the space where his common sense was supposed to be. 

when steve was three, he said his favorite color was america–by which he meant red, white, and blue, because that was the colors for his birthday, and everyone always celebrated with him.

even after mrs sara died, us barneses kept up the fireworks story, and i passed it on to the howlies eventually. 

i dont know how old steve was when he figured out that the whole city wasnt just throwing him a huge birthday celebration, but im sure that if you asked him, he’d still insist the fireworks were for him.

whatever PR schmuck decided to name him captain america probably had no idea how accurate a name it was. 

here’s the thing: I liked la la land. It was a cute movie. the dancing was fun. cinematography wise? breathtaking

but you know what really, really bothered me while I was watching it?

all of the diversity in the background

they’re in LA. there’s men and women of every color dancing and singing in the opening number. it really reflects how diverse and wonderful LA really is!

and then the story begins and we zoom in on… two white people falling in love

one of whom is obsessed with preserving Jazz as a musical genre

look me in the eyes and TELL ME WHY a white actor had to play that role

Jazz has DISTINCTLY black roots

we could have had an interracial couple

HELL, we could have had a struggling black musician and a struggling black actress trying to get her big break

and it sucks because while I DO love Gosling and Stone and they did a great job

all I can do is look at the movie and feel the POTENTIAL that it had, had they casted their leads differently

so yeah it bothers me when they act like la la land was “such a feat” and they were “worried it wouldn’t have an audience” when like… come on. two well known white leads falling in love. gimme a break.

2

I’m the one in the middle

Skies of Water; Ocean of Air

Here’s a little (long) fanfic/wingfic I wrote. Today… I have way too much time on my hands honestly. I swear to god. Either way! Enjoy the minor Shklance! Enjoy the Langst! And mostly! Please enjoy my shitty writing abilities!

Lance knew from a young age that he was different. Even with no one to guide him or explain it to him he knew. Maybe it was extinct. Maybe it was in the way people skirted around him. Or in the way he saw things as a child. He had always been a little different in a way. And not just the physical signs, but in himself as a person as well. The way he saw the world was a lot bigger than how his siblings saw it. He saw more than just the skies and a land to look down upon. He saw the oceans they couldn’t swim in, full of gorgeous fish and beautiful vibrant colors no paint could ever match, the mountains they didn’t bother to climb, seeing the view from a bright side, with the rust colored dust of the earth staining his clawed hands, saw the skitter of wildlife in a forest too thick with trees to move around in, the sight they ignored because they couldn’t grasp a place where the sky was not seen and the wind was silent for the sounds of nature singing. Lance saw the world with a different view.

Not everyone liked that view.

The way their words would sting him, lash out at him like a poisoned whip reminded him of that without them having to out rightly state it. Leaving marks much farther than skin deep on his young mind. Their backs, always turned away from him, shunning him away from where he wanted to be in their family. The way their wings would always taunt him. Show him the life he couldn’t have. The beauty he’d never have. The love he’d never feel. Not even the woman who breathed life into him could love the way he saw the world. The only love he could feel was in the hidden alcoves of the ocean. Small shelters carved through the years by the sea itself.

In a way, Lance connected with the ocean. The ocean was so old, wise, and strong, different from the free, young sky. So liberal and wild in youth. Innocent in its fast winds. Lance was young, weak, but no long naive nor innocent like the sky. He was jaded like the ocean in his eyes and on the horizon. Balancing between two worlds. One which was his own by blood, and another which was his own by outcast and adopted love. The sky rejected him. But the ocean called to him. Blue waves with cutting forces were terrifying, like their voices, like their fists raised in disgusted fury. But the teal lapping waters were also a calm reassurance, isolated. And when Lance’s head would submerge. He would not be afraid. He didn’t have to be afraid of the water over his head. There were no feathers to get wet and weigh him down like dead weights He could open his eyes, and see the fish flying through the new world. The land was just an ocean of air after all. If Lance didn’t have wings to fly, then he could have a sky of water to swim.

The ocean was calling his name. A name they never gave him. A name that was his own.

Lance…

Not a single person could take that away from him.

That made him strong. Many thought wingless would always be weak, they couldn’t fight, couldn’t gain strength with wings they were not gifted with. Couldn’t compete. Couldn’t survive in the world without feathers and blood on their back. But the ocean made him strong. The currents would spar against him, like head strong winds for his arms and legs. Flying underwater. The rocks in the ocean would test him. Sharping the claws of his hands. Teaching him to climb higher and reach for the sky in ways that those he knew would not think of. Would look at with disgust.

Just because he didn’t have wings didn’t mean he didn’t know the world. Lance probably knew more of it than anyone with wings. He felt the sting of wind in his face, the heights of a large mountain he’d conquered through reaching claws and hard effort. But he’d also felt the sting of ocean water on his face. Warm lapping salt water, reaching for him. Like it was calling him to come home to it. Once and for all.

The sky was their home. The shores and the ocean was his home.

Now, however, he was far away from his home.

He wanted to go home.

Lance sighed, looking at the soft pliant skin on his hands from the rafters of the castle. The way their shifted from soft skin, to hard claws without Lance even blinking. It had hurt the first time. But, now it was instinct. All good things had to hurt, right? Bad things hurt too he guessed however.

Long cold nights away from a happy nest. Watching them fly together with bright smiles, as if they were urging him to join them in the happy games. But he could not join them. He never told them. And they never asked anything different. It was assumed.

Lance was assumed to have wings like them.

Assumed to just be shy with his wings.

Assumed to be a loner.

Rather than asked.

It was alright thought, they weren’t far off from assuming that he preferred to be alone. Honestly, he did prefer the quiet nights. But these weren’t quiet nights. Nights in a place with no pool, no water, no sand. These were just lonely nights. Nights away from the one place he could forever call home.

He missed the rock walls, rough against his skin. The way it would vibrate on stormy nights when his family would and lock him out of the house. Protect him from the rampaging clouds and crashing thunder. The way the water would splash up against his ankles. Cold in the storms, but cold in the best ways. The sea foam tickling his tan skin. He missed the slight burn and tingle of salt water on his skin. The way the water would look when the storm would break, the silver moon light and peace the cold waves would bring to him. The ocean was old, yet full of vigor. It could’ve kill Lance without thought when he was smaller, yet it didn’t. The moons pull on the waves of the ocean, sparing his wide eyes full of wonder, and showing him a new world, a home. Letting Lance see the way the sun would rise over the ocean. Glimmering red, yellow, and orange on the waves of a warming blue sea. Glittering and beautiful in a way that no one ever stopped to appreciate. The sea let Lance appreciate its beauty, let him watch night after day and after another night. Let him live to breathe the salt in the sky of dark blue tides. The smell of salt on the breeze. No one liked the ocean. Like no one liked the real Lance.

He missed the ocean.

He still heard it’s call.

Beckoning him home.

A presence to his side jolted Lance out of his thoughts, turning his long and sharp salt stained claws back into smooth flawless skin and fingers as Lance twisted his body. Greeting the new person with a wide smile. The leader of their impromptu flock, Shiro.

Honestly speaking Shiro really was a sight to behold, and even with the hopelessness that accompanied seeing such majestic wings, Lance’s smile was real. Because with Lance’s view of the world. Even in pain and in hiding. He still saw the big world and everything in it as beautiful. Including Shiro with his broad body and even sturdier wings. Darker than the night sky with flecks of white. No midnight blues however. The ocean wasn’t in anyone’s wings. Just his own eyes. Shiro’s eyes were battle hardened, but still kind. And his smile was gentle. Like the nudging of the schools of fish that would nibble at his skin, brush their scales against his fingertips as they dared to get closer to the familiar being. Shiro smiled just like that this time.

“Hey Lance, we missed you preening yesterday, and flying today. Are you feeling alright?” Lance smiled. Assumptions. As-sump-tions. Such a simple word. With so much meaning. So much ability to alter and change a person’s view. Lance never assumed anything. Then again, he also assumed everything. He had a different view of the word.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just relaxing.” Shiro’s wings fluttered, an obvious show of unsettlement or awkwardness. As if Shiro was trying to build up courage to ask the withdrawn flock member something. Lance watched. Even without wings Lance could read the emotions displayed on others. He had to learn how to read people to avoid their worse moods normally. Wings were how people told emotions from other people, being the most obvious sign of body language. Lance could read moods well. Seeing his sister shift from calm, to annoy at just the mere sound of his breath. His father turn from pride to rage at a single speck of his existence. Being the outlet of anger was normal for him. Taught him many things in life, but sometimes even Lance knew that he had to escape and wait. Sometimes Lance would disappear to the ocean for weeks at a time. Only coming home so that he wouldn’t be deemed a ‘flight risk’. Heh. A flightless flight risk. Wasn’t there a joke in that somewhere?

           Maybe that’s why people were so wary and awkward with him before they knew. Most people kept their wings out to show emotion. Most people couldn’t tell emotion without seeing someone’s wings. Lance was probably a husk to them. Emotionless. Like the porcelain mask of a doll. Not showing off your wings meant discomfort, distrust in your surroundings. Lance was probably just one giant enigma to them. A hard shell that didn’t look one second closer to opening up then when they had begun to form a flock in space so long ago.

           At least Lance could make them assume he had wings. Using his claws and climbing skills to reach high places. Climbing wasn’t a well-known or practiced skill after all. Lance hadn’t even known it had a name until he found an old history book from before humans had formed wings. When Lance could’ve been considered normal. So even if they didn’t see his wings, they’d see him lazily resting in the rafters and assume he’d gone up there to stare at the stars and enjoy the silence as he often did. The clearing of Shiro’s thought gathered Lance’s wondering thoughts again. Making Lance look at him with those wide eyes that had Shiro lost.

           To Shiro they were like the deepest galaxy imaginable. Dark blues and light blues, white and black. Swirling. With ferocity and gentleness. Like the ocean Lance always described. Lance’s eyes were like both their homes. Shiro’s home in Lance was the night sky. Lance’s, the reflection of the only home he ever loved.

           “Lance, why don’t you come fly with me? We could go to my nest if you’d like? You probably could use a good preening, I could help if you’d like? Straighten out your feathers while we watch some old movies?” Lance gave Shiro another ambiguous smile. Confusing Shiro greatly as Lance declined gently.

           It was difficult. Leading a flock. But what was harder was knowing that one of the people in his flock that he cared about so much was still distrusting of him. Still hiding the wings Shiro knew would be gorgeous. Still hiding the thing that would tell Shiro exactly what those distant eyes and smiles that tugged at his chest meant.

           Shiro would often find himself wondering what Lance’s wings could be like. Would they be brown like Hunk’s? Dark and powerful? Or would they be so black they were almost blue? Like the starry sky that Shiro saw in his eyes with every passing glance. Were they built for power or speed? Or were they built for neither? Were they an ivory color to give a beautiful contrast to his caramel colored skin? How would they react? Would they express the emotions that Lance never spoke? Childishly expressive. Or were they like Lance’s body, slim, lean, and closed off. Revealing nothing more than what he was willingly to show.

           Shiro didn’t know. And it was killing him slowly.

           Shiro didn’t know how Lance felt and it hurt him. Him and Keith. Him and the flock.

           Lance would always smile, ruffle Pidge’s hair. Give Hunk big hugs and large grins to reassure him. But he’d never show them his wings. His most telling part of himself. Nor would he touch theirs. He would glance at them. Shiro and everyone else could see the glances, the lingering gazes on their wings. They knew that Lance was gifted with people, and very wary of them. He could read their every mood like a book. But no one could tell what was in his eyes. Not even the Alteans could. Not even Coran, who was very obvious in his favoritism towards the blue paladin, could tell what was hidden in those royal blues eyes.

           Hunk had never even noticed until they had pointed it out to him. Shiro asking what Lance’s wings were like. Hunk had been his roommate after all. Sharing a living space for so long and being such close friends. But Hunk hadn’t known a thing. Hunk said that the Garrison hadn’t been very active with their flight training besides piloting, as many were obsessed with flying in their free time. Hunk had just assumed Lance was just one of those people who liked to relax without his wings out. There were few people who didn’t like to stretch out their wings at every chance. Feeling shy of how their wings reacted or moved. And just kept them to themselves. And Shiro accepted that excuse for a while.

           But then the months had dragged on. Bonding sessions. And mind melding. The link between paladins were everything was supposed to be visible, the moment Shiro tried to pry into the Blue paladin’s mind, it changed from pure clarity, to a haze. Only now and again he’d see flashes of the water and sand. Wet skin. And it always scared and fascinated him when he saw the rare sight of the water below its surface. Bright almost teal colors water, beige sand like silk on ‘his’ feet. The schools of fish swimming in front of him. Around him. Sometimes tickling his skin. It scared him because as beautiful as the ocean and water was. It was so quick to kill those of the sky. Leaving that place in Lance’s mind always made him wander if want he was seeing was a memory or a fantasy. Whether the fantasy was the beauty of an ocean he couldn’t touch living apparently on a beach in Cuba with his family. Or if it was a fantasy of wanting to drown in those beautiful waves. The linger taste of salt and the feeling of being washed away onto the shore of reality after these mind drifts left the bad taste of doubt in his mouth. It scared the others too when Shiro convinced them to visit the strange world. The scariest of all their reactions being Allura’s, who was tuned to the emotions of mind melding and said with certainty, that what Lance felt in those moments was a longing. A call for home in the water.

           It terrified Shiro.

           But also confused him when he considered the other’s minds. The clarity of the skies in their minds. From city skylines and buildings, to the red of the desert sunsets, and the night sky of his own mind. Smiling faces of family. And Lance’s was a foggy foundation of cold grasping tides at his ankles. Seemingly lying in wait to grab and snuff out the gorgeous light that Shiro called Lance.

           Shiro just wanted to know Lance. Get to know his moods, the way his eyes would glide over everyone. As if gauging damage, how to help them, how to smile at them and make them feel better. How to fix the castle. How to make Hunk’s anxiety lessen or how to drag Pidge away from her computer gremlin ways. The way Lance almost glided through the air, on his feet not his wings. Shiro could only imagine how graceful Lance would be in his own sky. The sky that they could never find inside his mind.

           There was only one time, when Shiro had felt like they had maybe taken a step closer to Lance as a team. Pulled the Hispanic teenager a little closer to their hearts and to their home. It was when Allura had insisted they learned a thing called climbing. A way to scale into the air, without wings. Allura had said it was for an emergency if their wings were injured, but Shiro had always wondered if it was a way of training that they could finally include Lance in.

           Though, for Lance it was barely training as it was total slaughter. It turned out that Lance was extremely good at climbing. Almost vibrating in visible excitement at the task as soon as Allura described it to everyone’s surprise. Finding nicks and crannies to dig his fingers into to lift him higher. While Keith had climbed the valiant height of ten feet, the highest of all the first four paladins so far. Lance had taken one glance at the wall. And scaled it in mere seconds. A flash of brown hair and then he was there. Sitting at the top. Head tilted up and his body straight, looking completely at peace, unobtainable. A boy in the rafters. A boy too high to reach. Too far away to even touch.

           It was then that Shiro had learned about Lance, and both him and his mate Keith’s budding interest in the mysterious goofy brunette. As Lance sat there at the top. Beating Shiro and Keith in every race they challenged him to on the rock wall. The other flock members giving up after a while of reaching for the inaccessible boy’s hand. Failing to grab the lifeline that tried to grab onto them and teach them by even the full length of their wingspan. Not a feather could touch.

           Lance had been sitting there at the edge. His legs dangling down, the ships lights were soft in the evening glow. Reflecting off Lance’s skin and giving him an almost shuddering and unearthly radiance. Shiro saw the boy in a new light, not the distrustful boy that was closed off. But the strong boy beneath it all. With broad shoulders and strong arms that pulled him closer toward whatever height he reached for. The curve and curl of his muscles and spine. Flexible. Durable. Stunning. It was then that Lance had spoken to them for the first time about himself. Not a joke. Not playful flirting.

           The faraway look in his eyes seemed softer, closer, almost vulnerable, it was the closest Shiro had felt to connecting with Lance’s emotions and knowing them without the crutch of wings. Lance’s full and pink lips recounting times of when he’d apparently climbed the rock structures around the beach of his home. Climbing them for fun and for a peaceful moment. Even Keith, the worst at reading people could hear the longing in Lance’s voice as he talked about the view. Seeing the sky and the ocean almost blending together on the horizon. With the wind in his hair and dust on his hands. He said the view was almost better when you had to work to get it. Keith, who’d be reluctant about the idea of climbing and weirded out by it, suddenly got exactly why Lance seemed to love it.

           Insecurities. Lance was the one with a home back on earth. Lance was the one that was in between, not new enough to shooting and training to make large progress, and not good enough to be seen at the highest levels like Shiro and Keith. He was the blurry and unrecognizable middle.

           Hazy.

           Like fog rolling over the ocean in the early morning when the sky was warming and the water was still cold.

           Climbing was something Lance was secure in. Familiar with. It was something that Lance could connect to his home with. Watching Lance close his eyes, almost looking like he was relishing the texture of rough and cool rock beneath his hands. Lance had admitted the other thing missing was the dust and taste of salt in the air.

           Salt.

           Like the taste of his deadly fantasy.

           Lance watched as Shiro pulled away slowly and reluctantly from his own thoughts. Spreading those raven black wings and flying away from the tan boy. The boy with the stars in his eyes and Shiro’s heart in his mercy. They had to get going to the planet’s surface soon, and Shiro knew that Lance wasn’t going to fly down to go to the team in view of his eyes. So he glided away, only glancing back once he was on the ground at the end of the hall. Seeing Lance still sitting there. A far away look and one leg dangling teasingly from the edge. So close. Yet so far.

           Unattainable.

           After a half an hour of rounding up rowdy flock members Shiro was able to explain the details of the planet and the mission they had to carry out. Shiro was both excited for the mission and anxious. It was actually a secret vacation day for the flock, to fly and relax on a planet was oxygen. But, there was one thing.

           It was an ocean planet.

           Beaches as far as they eye could see.

           With rowdy kids that couldn’t swim, and one that seemed to dream of going under the waves.

           Yeah, Shiro was a nervous wreck to say the least. But after seeing Lance’s excitement at hearing the words beach and sand. Shiro relaxed. Watching closely as Lance used wild hand gestures to describe how many things they could do on the beach. He even promised to show Pidge how to skip a rock past two skips. Demonstrating flicking wrist motions with vigor and a large grin on his face. And after about three hours on the beach, Shiro was fully confident and relaxed that everything would be fine.

           Except, that was exactly when shit hit the fan.

           Lance was sitting high up on one of the rocky cliffs, admiring the view and keeping an eye on Pidge and Hunk, who were both splashing and carefully flying over the ebb and flows of the planet’s deep blue marine. Of course, that mean he was the first one to see and react to Pidge losing control and falling into the water. Unable to fly away in time to stop herself from being grabbed and dragged under.

           It was like he was on autopilot and Hunk screamed Pidge’s name and Lance dove into the water. Ignoring Hunk’s scream of protest. The fear of losing two teammates, two best friends at once. But Lance wasn’t going to listen this time. Not when he could help Pidge. The girl he’d come to see as a little sister. A younger sibling.

           Someone he had to protect.

           The water was different here, but in many ways. It was exactly the same. The push and pull of the tide. Tugging his body in every which way. Yet still guiding him. Towards the sinking girl just barely in his reach. Her eyes were closed and she was limb, but Lance wasn’t afraid yet. The waves were helping him, giving him that final pull down to grab her, before the push came, dragging Lance and his friend towards the shore and the surface. Lance mourned the sight. He wanted to relish in the sight, the sounds, the feeling of being weightless. But this ocean was not his home. This ocean was trying to push him away, telling him this wasn’t home. But an outreach of it.

           Voices. The voice calling him home was never so urgent and loud in his mind than in that moment. But it wasn’t calling him into the depths. It was calling him out of these depths. Urging him to go towards the ocean of air. To give his friend the oxygen she needed. Life Lance craved for her to keep. Lance’s muscles didn’t strain in the water. Even with the added weight of his sodden friend. He broke the surface easily. Relieved as he shoved Pidge’s head above the water and heard her gasp and cough. It was wet sounding and sent shivers down his spine when he heard how close he’d been to failing her. But it was also a freeing sound. A sound that she was alive, as he held her close with one arm and used the other claw his way up the shore where the flock was gathered. Wing fluttering worriedly with various degrees of fear and relief on their faces. Lance’s claws elongated to dig into the solid earth beneath the loose sand to hoist Pidge up and shove her onto the dry said into their waiting arms as Lance’s head dropped. His arms spread in front of him in almost a push up position as he greedily gulped in air to replenish the energy he lost in carrying Pidge to shore. He didn’t notice them staring at the long black marble looking claws until it was too late. He was already in a sunk ship as they stared. Watching in horrific awe as Lance detached from the earth. Claws slipping easily through the sand with the lost tension and fluidly retracting and forming back into long fingers with soft tan skin as Lance sat up. His long limbs folding into his lap with one movement. Hands tucked into his sides protectively.

           He’d gotten them broken for his adaptation before. Hard rubber work boots, stomping and cruelly twisting into the flesh of his hands. Breaking bones and skin. He couldn’t even hold a skipping stone right for months after that. The pain being renewed and rebroken every time anyone in his family saw an inkling of tiny black kitten claws piercing his skin.

           What would they think over him now? Long, sharp, dangerous and war tore claws?

           Did he look like a monster now?

           Lance looked up nervously to them, still sitting on his knees as they stared. Until Coran kneeled in front of him. Holding out his hand for Lance to presumably place his own hand within as Coran smiled reassuringly.

           “Thank you for helping Pidge, can I see that your hands aren’t torn up from the currents?” Lance frowned for a fraction of a second. Body curling instinctively to protect his hands. But Coran didn’t back down. He cared for Lance. Very much. Lance reminded him of his own son, but also not. Lance was witty and funny, but even Coran could see that something was not clicking with the paladin. There was always something just a little, off. The way Lance would move, the way he’d act. Keeping everything he didn’t initiate at arm’s length. Avoiding bonding sessions or showing everyone his mind and his body. Coran felt the need to shield Lance from the harsh reality of the world that Lance had already suffered. And with this new development surfacing, Coran was not going to back down on his small bit of progress. It wasn’t the lad’s wings, but it obviously was a sensitive piece of him. A private and more personal side of him. The instincts and tools of a predator. But also not dangerous at all, as Pidge had been held by these same weapons, and had not been scratched in the slightest. Eventually Lance caved in, hand shaking as he gave Coran one of his hands. His arm trembling fiercely as he did so, the stares of the others and Coran’s touch seeming to make his anxiety worse as his arm tried to tug itself away as Coran was able to get a small grip. But Coran didn’t let him. Studying the smooth skin, and watching as it formed into the claws they’d just seen. They were blackish grey, like the rocks on the sand. With white scratches on their hard surface. Probably from the rocks. Coran gently traced the scratches. Lance didn’t flinch, rather, he stared at Coran curiously, relaxing as no threatening move was made against his hands. Even handing Coran his other hand with no resistance. Letting it shift immediately as soon as Coran’s skin touched his hand.

           Lance had never looked so calm then in that moment. Even Pidge who’d begun to breathe properly ventured closer, not even the least bit afraid as she practically sat on Lance and grabbed his hands. Studying them for herself. Pressing her fingers against the sharp edges with the pads of her fingers. Marveling that even when they looked like they could slice her skin easily they didn’t even leave a mark. Lance answered the silent question.

           “They’re for digging into rock. They won’t hurt you unless you apply force to it.” Pidge slid her finger against the claw, her skin curved around the smooth yet hard nails. But didn’t get cut.

           “When did you get these?” Lance shrugged.

           “I’ve had them for as long as I can remember. They make climbing and swimming easier.” Shiro injected himself into the conversation.

           “You can swim? How do you not drown?” Images of the ocean bubble back to the front of Shiro’s mind. Not a fantasy. A memory. Lance can swim. That’s amazing. It’s practically unheard of. Lance looked down sheepishly.

           “I just do I guess. I lived on the beach my whole life. I knew how to swim before I knew how to climb or say my alphabet honestly.” Shiro’s eyes were locked on Lance’s wet form, his brown hair was curling with the water in it and sticking to his face. Lance looked up at him and their eyes met. Shiro hadn’t seen a look like that on Lance ever. He looked so at home, kneeling in the sand and the water. Pidge hanging onto him like a lifeline as he held her up on his lap, hesitantly letting Pidge wrap her wings around him. He looked a little uncomfortable, but not about to deny the girl who still probably shaken up for her near-death experience. They all filed back into the castle shortly after that. Allura smiling as she immediately demanded they learn to swim from Lance. Everyone smiling at the joy apparent on Lance’s face when he saw the salt water pool. It was no beach, but it was something at least. And Shiro was happy to say that he seemed to be getting better at reading Lance. Not quite good. But no longer completely clueless. Just. In the middle.

           Though Shiro had to admit, it was nice to see Lance so happy and in his element, the swim shirts and shorts they had to wear were suffocation. The males in the group even stripped off the swimming shirt, just deciding to preen out the water after every lesson. Though, Lance seemed happy enough to wear the suffocating material. Shiro guessed it was how he grew up. Parent’s doting over his wings, placing a shirt on him to make sure the currents and salt didn’t rip away or ruin his feathers.

           Shiro wondered why he’d never heard of people swimming if that’s what Lance had grown up with on the coast. He’d visited the east coast after all. The closet he’d seen to swimming was boating. And that was a completely waterless sport if you were talking about getting yourself soaked in water and not machinery meant to withstand it.

           Lance was proving himself to be a man of many very odd talents and surprises. And it wasn’t a surprise to Shiro that it only intrigued him and made both him and Keith want the Cuban boy more than before. Longing to hold onto that tan skin, feel it underneath their hands, their lips. Feel soft hair and soft feathers. Even Lance’s odd shifting claws were perfect. Scratched up with ‘scars’, but so beautiful in their own way. Having a destructive power, yet grace to not breach skin and blood unless intentioned that way.

           Either way, Lance was happy with the outcome of the days. Shiro and Keith were ecstatic too as Lance began to grow closer. Hiding away less. Letting himself occasionally be held by them, letting them wrap their wings around him like a tight cocoon. Lance finally joining the cuddle sessions. Even without showing his own wings. It was progress. Progress like reading Lance’s moods. It made the two so happy. Lance was happy too.

           His truth was safe. Hidden.

           Until later on, it wasn’t.

           Shiro also wondered why he didn’t see it coming when the truth did come out.

           Lance flopped to the ground, back smacking on the metal loudly. Making Keith wince and panic. Back shots were forbidden in training as they often caused wing injuries. Hell, no one could ever sleep or rest on their backs without being uncomfortable. Keith was immediately kneeling on the ground, pulling Lance up and reaching for his back to check before Lance jerked away from him. Keith immediately backing down even when Shiro’s and probably Keith’s instincts too, were screaming at him to put his hand on Lance’s back and check the health of his wings. But Shiro hesitated. Lance hadn’t even shown them a feather. Touching them was probably a very off limits thing to do. Lance proved that right as he ducked into his room, promising Coran to check his wings, before coming out ten minutes later, smiling and saying it was just a little sore. Though they wanted to look and check for themselves, Coran simply told Lance to take it easy for the rest of the day. Lance had smiled at them and nodded. Going with what they said easily.

           If only Shiro had insisted on seeing Lance’s wings that day. Maybe he wouldn’t have been this way. Maybe Shiro wouldn’t have sent him on this mission. Either way, even possible different solution or way didn’t end with Shiro pacing in front of a healing pod that contained Lance after a mission gone wrong. Lance needing it after trapped in a crevice deep in the planet’s earth. The crevice was large enough for Pidge to fly in, but not Hunk or Shiro. But Lance wasn’t flying out. Keith and Pidge had to go down to get him. Finding Lance bloody and unconscious on the ground, but thankfully still breathing.

           Though nothing was more shocking then when Keith finally said fuck it to Lance’s privacy after dragging the injured boy out of the earth and lifted his shirt to make sure there was no damage. And there were some bruises, some gashes, not surprising to see after such a fall. The real surprise, is what they didn’t see.

           Wings.

           Lance’s back was muscular, but smooth, there was no protruding muscles or slit where his wings could tuck themselves in for protection. There was nothing to indicate Lance was even supposed to have wings on his back. It was bare. But oh god were there scars.

           Lash marks lined Lance’s back like tally marks on an elementary school chalk bored. Long slashes of thick scar tissue on Lance’s back that went in every direction. Shiro knew exactly what caused marks like that. Belts. Whips. He’d felt their sting before. It was a normal sight on him. He’d grown used to the sight of scars on himself.

           But god if the sight of scars on Lance didn’t make him sick with anger. How dare anyone put someone like Lance. Someone so self-sacrificing and pure through pain like that? How dare anyone touch the one he and his mate were hoping to claim. How. Dare. They. Even Keith had bristled at the sight. Wings stiffening and puffing up in a threatening pose to make everyone aware of his anger. Shiro’s own wings had a similar response. While Pidge cowered. Pressing her wings against her back to make herself smaller as she pressed herself into Allura’s side. As if she were hoping to disappear into the princess. Hunk looked like he wanted to throw up.

           Lance was a wingless.

           An abused, and mistreated boy.

           He swam and climbed, and did all of these amazing things, because he had no escape besides hiding into the waves of the ocean or the rocks of the shore. Having claws and ways to survive in a world that rejected him. Treated him as if he were a plague.

           Lance had been afraid of them.

           Afraid to tell them.

           Because he was hurt so badly before that he didn’t see any mercy. Probably didn’t think he was worthy of mercy. Only knowing hands raised to hurt him. Voice raised to yell. Shunned from affection. Preening sessions. Home. The beach was his home. The fantasy of being called home.

           The ocean called for him like the sky called for them.

           Shiro could understand it now, why Lance didn’t trust them. Why he was in pain.

           But that was over now.

           Royal blue eyes, dark and light as the ocean. With kindess and gentle waves, as well as storm and raging waters opened to them as the tan boy felt out of the pod and into their arms. Hands pressing flat against his back in a silent telling that they knew. Yet still held him close. And Lance closed his eyes. Letting himself be held by the two males. Held in their wings. Lance opened in his eyes, and in his mind he say the ocean. The pull of the tides pulling at his mind. Calling him home. And he closed his eyes with a smile. Holding on tighter.

           One day, he’d be a part of the ocean. One day, he’d get to go home. But today wasn’t the day for Lance to go marching home. Not yet. His sky of water had to wait for him, there was still the ocean of air for him to learn.

           He didn’t think his home minded waiting just a little bit longer.

           He’d be welcomed when the tide came all the same.

           Just, not now.

bee emoji reviews

a round friend. the gradient shading is bad though. 5/10

ADORABLE PERFECT FRIEND! SHE WANTS YOU TO HAVE A REALLY GOOD DAY! nice lineless design and cute face 12/10

Very regal looking girl. simple, but effective. 8/10

She looks straight out of fischer price or some shit. Has an :O face going on which is kinda cute. decent. shading could use serious work though 4/10

A friend who looks lost in thought. the wings are placed kinda weirdly though like I don’t think that’s how wings work. overall relatively cute 7/10

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ looks like a shrug emoji which is good. rather simplistic design. solid. the wing coloring just bothers me a bit 9/10

Realistic looking friend. I don’t like the color palette though, the yellow isn’t very bright and the brown just makes her look kinda dirty. 5/10

Semi-realistic friend. Looks like she’s reading whatever texts you send after you send this one. has the right number of legs. A fine girl. 9/10

She thicc. A nice girl but what is the body doing. it looks incomplete above the wings. Needs a bit of work just in general so she’ll stop looking like a top. 6/10

A beautiful, well executed girl. Simple design which does wonders. perfect in every way 10/10

What. Return of fischer price I think. I’m scared. I think she’s seeing into my soul. please make her stop. 0/10 cursed girl

wHAT THE F U CK -100000/10

anonymous asked:

You may have answered this already but do you have tips on how to do witchcraft w limited resources? I have no way to get things like vanilla, or certain spices/herbs and the area I live in doesn't have many of the more common flowers w magical significance (roses for example). I'm also not allowed to light candles or get candles of different colors (But I do light white candles secretly). And ideas?

Honestly I haven’t used vanilla once in my practice. Ingredients that people say are “necessary” may be for them, but that shouldn’t reflect on you or your practices. If you can’t get it, or even have no reason to use it, don’t bother tbh.

When it comes to things like herbs, it is very easy to find replacements for them regarding correspondences. With vanilla, depending on the properties it has, it could be substituted with something else that also has those associations. It might be slightly different energy-wise, but I wouldn’t think too much so, especially if you don’t think so.

At that point it becomes important to work with what you have. Find out what your area does have, maybe even naturally, then find out what you can do with those things, and go from there.

If you are able, spices and herbs are also available for purchase online. Dollar stores even carry a selection of herbs and spices now (at least, the ones in my area do). Bulk Barns also has a great selection, and super cheap too (I just got good sized bags rock salt, pink Himalayan salt, rubbed sage, and I think mint there for less than $4).

However, you also don’t need herbs if you don’t want them. That is just one area of spellwork, and if you have difficulties accessing herbs, go for something you are able to do / have access to.

As for candles, white is pretty much all purpose. LED candles are also an option. There are even websites that allow for the burning of digital candles that can be used too, and there are also some cell phone apps that offer the same thing - tech magic for the win!

Otherwise, I’d suggest using [energy work] or [sigils], which are both low supply and also really discreet. 

Here are some posts that may contain more ideas of things you may be able to do, if you so desire:

Budget Magic:

Discreet Magic:

* not my choice of title

I GOT THE GIRL [FRED WEASLEY]

request: “Hi! Can you write a Fred Weasley x Ravenclaw!Reader imagine? The reader is a bookworm, and is often found in the library. She and Fred are almost complete opposites. Fred is intrigued by the "different” girl you can say and they start hanging out. Introducing each other to their life, with things the other would never do. Ends with a cute passionate kiss?“ — by @my-unique-mind

a/n: added a little twist to it. hope you don’t mind :-) also, i got carried away with this one so it is quite long 😂

Masterlist + Request here!

    On the course of your stay in Hogwarts, the only conversations you would share with Fred Weasley were just mere hellos and greetings. Whenever the seat beside you wasn’t taken yet in some class, he would ask if it was okay to sit beside you, and you would glance at him before nodding, minding your own business starting then.

    Though other than that, the both of you never bothered to approach the other in attempt to get to know them better. It has been always like that for the past years — so for him to suddenly ask you a very important favor, it was quite unbelievable.

    It was a Saturday morning that time and you were spending your day inside the library as usual. In front of you was one clear parchment, a book needed for Transfiguration, and a bottle of ink that you had. You were just about to write the first sentence of your essay when someone abruptly sat down across you.

    It was Fred, with his red hair and goofy smile. You raised your eyebrow in question and slowly brought your quill down, waiting for the boy before you to say something that would explain why he was here.

    "Good day, isn’t it?” he started, his head turning around as if to look at his surroundings. ‘The sun’s not shining too bright, the wind’s pace is just right, and it’s not that cloudy.“

    "Is there something I can help you with?” you asked with your eyebrow still raised.

    Fred flickered his eyes to you. “I’m glad you asked, Y/N, because there is this one tinsy little problem I’m dealing with and I know you can help me figure it out.” there was mischief in the way he spoke those words, which made you kind of uneasy.

    “Oh, is it regarding about that Transfiguration assignment Professor McGonagall gave us 'cause I’m doing it right now —”

    “Y/N,” he politely cut you off that made you stop talking, “that’s not it.”

    You involuntarily blush. “Then what is it?”

    Fred leaned on the table, prompting his elbows and placing his chin on top. “I knew it was a good choice to pick you, Y/N. I had a hard time convincing George that you’re the perfect accomplice —”

    “Woah, what?” it was your turn to you cut him off. “You lost me at accomplice.”

    “Well, you see,” Fred licked his lips, “we need a book from the restricted section of the library. Of course, no teacher with the right mind would let me or my brother get it, so I thought since you’re always in the library so much, not to mention you’re a Ravenclaw, you would be the one to do it for us.”

    “You must be out of your mind.” You scoffed. “What makes you think I’ll do that for you?”

    “Because,” Fred trailed, “I’m such a good person and I make other people happy?”

    You couldn’t help but snort at his reason.

   "Oh, come on, Y/N! I promise, this will the first and last favor I’ll be asking you if you agree to help.“

    The two of you stared at each other for what seemed like minutes before you finally broke free and groaned.

    "Fine, I’ll do it.”

    Fred fist pumped in the air that made Madam Pince to suddenly appear and hiss at him.

    “But you need to do something in return. Anything, so that I’ll feel I’m not doing this for free.” you chuckled lightly.

    He nodded in understanding. “Okay,” he shrugged, “how about I do a poem? You’re into those kind of stuff, right?”

    “Well, yeah …” you blushed again for whatever reason.

    “Then it’s settled then. You help us get the book and I’ll do a poem. Deal?” he extended a hand out and you didn’t hesitate to grasp it with your own, shaking it.

    “Deal.”


     You indeed had done what you had to do. After Fred and George talked to you and gave you the title of the book that they needed, you immediately made up an excuse as you ask the head of your house, Professor Flitwick, to sign the slip that allowed you to get the book from the restricted section of the library.

    The whole plan seemed too easy, because the teacher didn’t even question you or grew suspicious on why you needed the book. And now, you were patiently waiting inside the cosy atmosphere of the Three Broomsticks, your eyes glued on the door, ready to finalize your deal with the Weasley twins.

    Though Fred was the only one who came, even panting as he sits down beside you. You couldn’t help but glance at him oddly but still a smile was playing on your lips.

    “Sorry,” he sighed while he takes off his coat and hangs it on the chair he was sitting on, “had to get away from George. I didn’t want him to come.”

    “Why?” you slowly brought out the book from your bag.

    Fred smirked at you, “Because I wouldn’t want him hearing my poem, obviously. He wouldn’t let it go if he heard it, will keep on teasing me for an eternity if he did.” he murmured mostly to himself.

    You almost forgotten about the poem and with the mention of it, you raised your eyebrows in curiosity. “Well, now that you mentioned it, read it to me.”

    For the first time, you saw his cheeks turn into a shade of pink as he softly stutters. “Uh, r-right now?” he cleared his throat.

    “Not necessarily, but if you want to have this book —”

    “Okay,” he pouted, “I get it, I get it. Just let me …” he rummaged through his bag and got a notepad with written notes on it, though before you could take a peak, he blocked it away from your view with his hand. “Hey! I’m going to read it to you anyway so why bother?”

    “I’m just curious, jeez.” You chuckled. “You know, I’m very interested in what you have prepared. It’s always been in my bucket list to get you to do something completely out of your character.”

    “Oh, I’m sure it is.” he snorted with a grin. “Uh, so, before I begin, I’m just gonna ask you not to laugh, okay? I admit it’s not my best work but … it’s what I wanted the poem to be about.” the color red was creeping on his cheeks again.

    You smiled. “I promise.”

    He dramatically cleared his throat, turning sideways so he was completely facing you.

“The way she speaks can lure me to sleep
the way she smiles can change my cold feet
the way she reads can send thousands of thoughts
like why only now did I notice she smelled like apricots?”

     He stops momentarily to look at you and sees you laughing silently which draws him to continue.

I can never really explain why I started feeling so differently
when she has always been there, always been pretty.
and maybe that is why I decided to make a plan
something that will give my chance a hand.

It amuses me how she doesn’t notice
like for the first time, she didn’t know how to focus
but how can she not, that’s not her flaw
After all, she is a Ravenclaw.”

    Your eyes widened at that mere line and you could hear Fred taking a gulp before carrying on like nothing happened.

“So this time, as I read this poem to you
please tell me you understand it like you always do
keep in mind that out of all the pranks I’ve done, all of the shows
you rejecting me at this very moment terrifies me the most.”

    Fred closed the notepad and immediately turned away from you, folding his hands on the table. “Done.” he stated with his lips pursed together, not bringing himself to see your reaction after just confessing that he indeed fancied you.

    “That was … beautiful. You might actually beat Edgar Allan Poe if you pursued writing.” you tried to catch his eye but he wouldn’t budge. “Fred, please do look at me.”

    “No.” he answered immediately. “I-I had some time thinking about this and now that I’ve done it, I think I regretted doing it.” he spoke very fast.

    It seemed cruel, but you enjoyed seeing him all frantic and shy — because in your defense, it wasn’t everyday you would see Fred Weasley behaving this way. He was mostly so confident with his brother, the complete opposite of what he was showing you right now, and it made you reach out and place a hand over his.

    “Would it make you feel better if I told you I felt the same way?” You couldn’t help but tease, causing him to finally look at you.

    “Not funny, Y/N. You’re completely messing with my emotions and do you know how many times I’ve thought about telling you about this and now you’re —”

    You rolled your eyes, leaning in and pressing your lips onto his just to make him shut up, and also maybe because you’ve been meaning to do it for a long time now. It definitely did the trick though because Fred caught on and began to kiss you back, his hand soon resting on your cheek while his other one still intertwined with yours. When the both of you let go, Fred’s eyes looked like they were twinkling from delight.

    “What is it?” you asked, a goofy smile plastered on your mouth as well.

    “Nothing, I just — my brother and I didn’t really need the book, it was the plan I’ve been talking about in my poem, to give my chance a hand.” he repeated.

    “Wow.” you playfully slapped his arm with the borrowed book. “So meaning to say, all my efforts were put into nothing?”

    “Well, it did make you a rebel even a little bit, didn’t it?” he grinned. “And it did help this thing going on between us to evolve as well.”

    You pulled on your best confused face. “What thing?”

    “Hardy har har.” he sarcastically laughed and pulled you in for another passionate kiss, your laugh audible in between as you place your arm around his neck.

    Before the two of you could even decided to finally break free — realizing that you were still inside the Three Broomsticks — George Weasley came waltzing inside the pub and did a very loud gasp, enough to catch the attention of the other students to him.

    “I can’t believe it. It actually worked!”

    Fred groaned and turned to his brother who was now grinning like mad. “Shut up and go away, George.”

    But George was already fist bumping him, and despite Fred getting annoyed, he couldn’t help but put on a cocky and bragging grin on his face as he did so because finally, he got the girl.

Went on my way to play around with my face and hair today. (Haha my hair is actually long enough to almost touch my shoulder blades, and for this I had to tie it on the other side of my head and toss the tips on the other side. Sadly the color isn’t right, and I couldn’t bother to photoshop it.) As much as I love Shiro, it pains me I just don’t have what it takes to pull him off well enough. But at least it is fun to do this kind of stuff at home.

Finding Closure (Part 1)

Summary: AU. Reader left behind a hometown full of misery to make a new home in Brooklyn. A death in the family forces her to briefly return to the place that has haunted her dreams and memories for three years. Will she finally be able to move on, or will a figure from the past change everything?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,837

Warnings: angst, language, more angst, mention of alcoholism, mention of death, mention of funeral, mentions of neglect, mentions of estranged family members, heartache, sadness, mentions of sad childhood

A/N: This is the first part of my submission for the talented and wonderful @tatortot2701 ‘s AU writing challenge. (Tay, please disregard until it’s completed!) Y'all wanted angst, well…I took a fluffy prompt and darkened it. I tried not to but this story wouldn’t leave me alone. I’m not sure how many parts it will have.

My prompt was 28 .“____ is not a real word.” “Yes it is!”

Part:  1 - 2 -

Originally posted by brokenmichael

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i’ve been getting quite a bit of asks and messages about bullet journaling, so i figured that it would be better to make a helpful post about an intro to bullet journaling. i’ve compiled the basics + terminology around bullet journaling as well as some brief explanations and advice.

this got long, so i decided to put it under the cut! click “read more” to learn more about the basics of bullet journaling :)

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anonymous asked:

Sebastian, Claude, William, Grell, & Undertaker realize they are in love with their shy, pure and sweet human friend who is open-minded and non-judgemental since they're slow at everything and has no talent that is known so they know how is like to be judged unfairly?

I’m sorry this is a bit late, I have been a little tied up lately! In an effort to show my gratitude of your ask and my apologies of the lateness, I made these super freaking long lolol

-Admin Robin


Sebastian:

  • Ok whoa whoa whoa, wait a fuckin lil minute
  • Demon royalty??? Liking….A human? Yikes
  • He acknowledges the fact that he holds a certain admiration for his human friend, but he thought It was just because they intrigued him and peaked his interest
  • But like, shit, the way it happened was so fuckin cute watch this
  • It was one of those rare occasions where Ciel was working on paperwork and didn’t need him to do anything, and the servants were actually doin good, so he took you out into the garden and set out a lil picnic (because mortals like those, right??) and was just chilling under the shade with them and he looked over to them as they rambled on about something they thought was beautiful, and their theories about the universe and reincarnation and stuff that a mere mortal should not really worry about
  • And he just thought that it was so amazing, the way somehow their eyes shined even in the shadow of the shade, and he absolutely adored that passionate gleam in their eye when they talked and he just
  • Fuck he was so enraptured by them which is weird as hell because 1) he was 100% down for toying with/eating humans so wtf and 2) HE WASn’t eVEN supposED TO BE CORDIAL WITH otheR HUMANS LET ALONE FAL L FOR ONE
  • He freaks out and excuses himself, and goes to his master’s study, knocking and once he’s got one foot in the door is just like
  • “Young Master, I think (Name) has made me ill and I’m not sure how to respond to the way my body is reacting,”
  • And Ciel knows EXACTLY what’s up and is like “dear lord, get out of my office,”
  • He would try to distance himself as much as possible but fails miserably in the end
  • Admires how you are so laid back and calm and just a ‘go-with-the-flow’ kinda person
  • Once he tells you about his feelings, and the contract, he is so floored when you’re just like, “Oh, so you’re a demon? That’s cool; do you wanna make some pound cake?”
  • You teach him how to be gentle with humans and he adores how intently you listen to his stories of his many years of life
  • Loves you
  • “My, my, you’re quite the sight in that dress, my (lady/lord),” “Oh? This? I made this out of the drapes of my room, but thank you, Sebastian,”
  • Gets protective if anyone/anything tries any shit
  • When you tell him about how you view yourself his eyes flash and he pulls you to him
  • “Someone is putting that vile rubbish in your head -who? I demand to know,” and kisses the top of your head

Claude:

  • At first he denies it completely, thinking that you’re just a fun toy and nice smelling soul
  • But then he sees you in your nightgown/sleeping attire and just kinda loses it in his mind
  • He is a predator, so he doesn’t really have emotions, so he thinks, so he deems what he’s feeling as hunger and protectiveness of his meal
  • But then he finds himself letting his gaze linger on you and he studies the way you move and he makes you food and makes sure you’re comfortable and he does not allow Hannah or the Triplets to serve you because he’s that protective lmao
  • Absolutely not you are not allowed to leave his sight because there is a chance that you’re either in danger or in the hands of some other demon
  • Likes to have you beside him chatting his ear off about anything and everything all the time, whether he’s doing the dishes, playing piano, cooking, doing errands for Alios, etc
  • Alios gets very jealous of you, so if he orders Claude away from you out of spite, the demon will still find some sort of contact with you
  • “Miss/Mister (Name), might I interest you in some (favorite drink)? I hear that it is pleasing to the tongue,” *cue weird claude glasses glint thing*
  • If you like to go out on the roof at night to stargaze, he will go with you solely based on the excuse that you might get yourself hurt, and he doesn’t want to trouble himself with the time of cleaning up the mess you’d make if you fell to the ground
  • Will 100% leave his scent on you and dwells within the shadows of your room at night to watch over you
  • Gross but loving in his own way

Grell:

  • They’re so excited!
  • They’re all “Oh forsure this shit is gonna be legendary”
  • Once they are totally comfortable with you, they’ll come clean and tell you that they’re a reaper, and that they kinda harvest souls
  • It was a super big risk for them, and they didn’t want to scare you off, but they trusted you
  • So, it all started as a harmless friendship, and then one day you were all “Grell, I think that you should get a raise, you’re always working so hard! If I had half a mind, I’d go to your boss myself and demand that you are given rewards and so much gratitude that you could drown in it”
  • “And also, you look very lovely in the color red,”
  • And boom, they’ve lost it, they’re fuckin hooked
  • Like the combination of your laid back personality, and they think you’re stunning as frick, and they’re just so enticed by you idk
  • Really bothers them that you don’t put yourself on a pedestal, because they think you more than belong there
  • Tries very hard to make sure that you know you are extraordinary and one of a kind
  • Thinks you possess many talents, and tries to emphasize on them
  • Not-so-subtle flirting and courting
  • Doesn’t really gather up the courage to court you until you make a huge move
  • You are allowed to admire their death scythe, but not touch it, because that’s a risk of you getting hurt
  • Loves you more than Bassy, much to Sebastian’s relief

William:

  • What the fuck
  • Feelings? Ew. Romantic feelings? Absurd. Towards a Human? Bro u smokin
  • Seriously though, he has zero experiences with romance, so he doesn’t really know what to do poor bb
  • Flushes around you a lot (his glasses do the thing where they fog up lmao)
  • Is super duper strict with you, but like it’s cute because he’ll be all “(Name), that was uncalled for and reckless, you could have gotten yourself killed,” (You: But Will I just almost tripped over a stair-)
  • And he gently takes your face in his gloved hands, his gaze softening and his voice dropping, “But are you okay? Did you obtain any injuries?”
  • Is a closet softie shut up
  • Studies you from afar and burns the images of you into his mind
  • You really help him de-stress, so he likes you around his office
  • Shares as much details with you as possible without giving away too much information that will get you hurt
  • So protective like it’s sickening
  • Thinks taking his hand and rubbing soothing circles on your thigh to calm himself down is platonic but it kinda isn’t so you blush
  • “(Name), why is your face red? Is my office too warm for you?”
  • “Mortals are such peculiar creatures”
  • If Ronald or some other reaper flirts with you they get copious amounts of overtime haha fuckers
  • William always wins
  • Gets a little annoyed when he finds out how lowly you think of yourself and is constantly reminding you that if you’re good enough for him to not only befriend but to also harbor feelings for, then you are the best of them
  • His heart stops when he sees your name on the “To Die List”
  • Im srry

Undertaker:

  • This Meme Reaper™ is your best friend before he even considers you to be a possible partner
  • You hang around his shop and cook and help decorate and tell jokes and he is deff hooked
  • He thinks you’re prettier than the corpses he dresses up so like don’t ever tell him that you think your looks are average again
  • Actually kinda gets sad when you tell him about how little you think of yourself
  • “Now now, Dearie, I won’t be having any of that rubbish,”
  • Is like that weird uncle you can get shit-faced with and that has his weed stashed in his closet in the back but he’s super good company, especially if you’re feeling down
  • You brushed back his bangs once and was met with gorgeous yellow-green eyes and a scar that ran across his entire face
  • And like he was kinda scared that you were gonna be all “Ew gross why are your eyes like that” or “FUCK your face dude what the hell happened”
  • But instead you just smiled and said: “Your eyes are so unique! And I have scars too, do you want to count them? Each of them has a back story,”
  • And he loves your personality and they way you blend in with your surroundings
  • He loves seeing you comfortable and he kicks you out of the shop with an excuse (like he needs more tea or more flour) when he has company come, especially Phantomhive and his damn butler
  • Actually pulled his scythe on Sebastian one time because of how overly-friendly he was being
  • His voice instantly dropped and his hat was off and his bangs were pushed to the side, his eyes blazing
  • “It would be greatly appreciated if you were to mind yourself around my (Name),” and he would side-glance a flabbergasted Ciel and say, “That is all the help I can provide. If you’ll excuse me, I believe it is high time for you to show yourselves out; the shop is closed for today”
  • Your dick: out
  • He is too clingy and apologizes after they leave
  • You mean so much to him

I used to hate the color of my eyes cause they weren’t blue or green or gray, just plain ol’ brown. But then, this one time during lunch at 10th grade, the boy I liked was talking about something to his friends at our table when he suddenly stopped talking and told his friends to look at me. He literally told every single person eating at our table to stop whatever they were doing to look at my eyes because “it’s beautiful, look at how it changes color when the sunlight hits it just right. Look at it!” My face began to blush at the complimemt and the attention so everyone was telling him to stop being annoying and to apologize for bothering me, and all I could do was cover my face with my hands to hide the smile forming on my lips. I started loving my eye color after that, it’s been four years since.

My town has its own video games festival that has existed ever since a mandate was passed in order to “rebuild the cultural foundations” of the town. This festival has always roughly coincided with E3, possibly in order to draw in visitors during a time when video games are a trending subject, but ironically this seems to hamper attendance to the festival since more people are interested in the much larger and undoubtedly more important E3 conferences. For this reason, I usually miss out on my local video games festival. My town has a number of thoroughly obscure and unremarkable game developers, and though I certainly appreciate that someone is facilitating gamer culture within in my depressed, dying town, I couldn’t care less about their output.

Most of the animosity I feel towards my local game developers stems from the one time that I actually did visit this festival. It was some years ago on a insufferably hot and humid June afternoon. I was in the town center running errands and I wanted to get out of the heat. I was broke from spending all of my money on important matters, so I couldn’t justify patronizing some restaurant. I also didn’t want to go to my local library for a reason that I’m secretive of, but may share with you all in the future. So, what caught my eyes was the town recreational center, a drab box-shaped building that usually bled misery but, at the time, had an enticing sign sitting at its entrance. This sign, a immaculate depiction of Mario, Sonic the Hedgehog, and Master Chief holding hands in solidarity, was what drew me into the festival, as I knew whoever drew such an image could be considered my kin - I am a gamer.

So, enticed by my gamer spirit and my need to get out of the heat, I entered the recreational center. The festival was poorly attended, with only a few other visitors aside from myself, all of whom seemed to be more interested in being out of the heat rather than checking out the few booths that made up the festival. There was some attempt to redecorate the recreation center, but they failed to drown out the inherent misery of the place. There was a bad life-sized and garish paper mache statue of Mario that stood at the center of the recreational center and existed in stark contrast to the uneven gray concrete of the floor and bland greenish coloring of the rest of the place. On one wall was an inordinate amount of video game posters that were pasted haphazardly on top of each other, and seemed to be hiding something rather than being there for the sake of decoration. You could tell that the wall was badly damaged as if something had collided into it, and it was moist with some viscous liquid which was dripping onto the floor. I didn’t bother to see if it was glue or not as the whole appearance of the thing made me uncomfortable and I preferred to stay away.

However, what struck me the most about the festival wasn’t the miserable, downtrodden nature of the event - trust me, that’s a given in my city. Rather, it was the complete lack of original personality it had. The few people manning the booths were dressed as already well known and established video game characters. There wasn’t an ounce of local charm there. Furthermore, there didn’t even seem to be any video games on display anywhere, which one usually expects from a so called “video game festival”. I asked a woman dressed as Samus Aran (as far as I could tell, at least. She was only wearing a pair of blue overalls and her hair was dyed an unnatural blonde, so I assumed she was Samus), and she didn’t respond to me, but did achingly point her finger at a door near the back of the recreational center, a door that I recognized as the entrance of the unisex bathroom.

This bathroom was notoriously disgusting, and I thought the woman may have misheard me, so I asked again. She simply kept on pointing. So I reluctantly went into the bathroom. The bathroom light didn’t work and the smell was horrendous, but sure enough there was a game console in there. It was hooked to a small CRT television that was illuminating the bathroom with white static. This television was placed in one of the sinks and a chair was sat in front of it. There was no controller, so I simply sat in the chair, thinking that I may be attended to. Instead, the games simply began.

Rocky Rabbit: Was a platformer which, if the game had conventional controls, would have had horrible controls. You controlled the titular Rocky Rabbit, who wasn’t a rabbit or anything for that matter. His sprite constantly changed as did his goals. For the most part, however, you simply moved him from platform to platform, sometimes talking to NPCs who all treated Rocky with absolute derision. The game had 24 levels and ended with Rocky giving up on his quest as he realized he was dehumanized and no longer a being of conventional flesh and bone.

Assault Squadron 57: Was a first person shooter in the style of CoD which started out normal enough. You were part of an American troupe of soldiers that was tasked with taking out a group of North Korean terrorists who had taken control of parts of Washington DC. The game began with you storming the White House to find that it was only an endless building full of rooms. Each room had a unique piece of artwork that you could interact with. Interacting with the artwork gave you the history of the piece and its creator. Sometimes these pieces had very intricate histories that seemed to be longer than the game itself, a game that was infinite in and of itself.

Mario 10: Was something of an incoherent racing game. You played a blood cell that had to race from the heart to the brain, but the game couldn’t decide if it was really that. I had many conversations with this game that was conflicted in what it was or who it wanted to be. It made several references to Assault Squadron 57, and it felt as if I was just playing Assault Squadron 57 again at times. When you paused the game, it would play a cutscene with a message from the developers that assured the game was the most accurate blood racing simulator to ever be created. It play this cutscene in full and it could never be skipped.

The All Encompassing You: Was a point and click adventure game about a woman who visits the house of her estranged husband only to find him missing. This game also had numerous references to Assault Squadron 57, many of them regarding Assault Squadron 57 as the “perfect video game”. I wasn’t able to converse with this game, unlike Mario 10. As the game’s plot unfolds, you find out that the husband didn’t know if he was really himself and claimed that he could see himself physically changing into beings that “weren’t human, and weren’t non-human, just things that weren’t anything at all”. I stopped playing the game when I got stuck on an impossible puzzle that seemed to continuously grow more convoluted each minute it wasn’t solved.

La Petite Mort: Was a JRPG in the style of old Final Fantasy games. You controlled a warrior and his troupe who were meant to travel to the heart of their country and slay a dragon there. A recurring theme in the plot was the inability of lights to work, and the world becoming increasingly dark. The characters in your party and many NPCs would constantly comment on how they no longer feel like themselves, or that they are no longer “beings with coherent and saintly identities”. The game eventually became too dark and I was unable to make out what was happening in it.

The TV cut off after La Petite Mort, and I had to stumble out of the bathroom in darkness. Some genius had decided to move that ugly Mario sculpture in front of the bathroom, so I knocked it over, not caring about what actually happened to the thing. A large amount of time had passed since I entered the bathroom and it was night. Only one light remained on in the recreation center. It hung above the last open booth. A shirtless man sat in the booth and was staring daggers into me. I don’t know if he was offended by my treatment of the Mario statue, but he wouldn’t take his eyes off of me. I quickly made my way out of the recreation center and rushed home.

I haven’t been to my town’s video games festival since, and I don’t know of anyone else who has either. Still, they continue to hold them each year. Whenever they begin, I try to avoid the recreational center as much as I possibly can. Not out of fear, but out of sheer animosity for the people who run the festival, if you can even call them people. They have no vision, no personality, no thoughts, and no future. They’re beings in a existential flux, attempting to manifest themselves through art and failing miserably. I could attend this year’s festival, it’s ongoing now, but what would be the point? I’ve played every type of game they have to offer. They’re all futile and miserable and without purpose, the result of a void attempting to make itself material in a world already full of people who have given up on any noble goal, or any reason to seek meaning in a universe so devoid of any.