five past

Dancing, ~ flo\||/ing ~ go\||/ns ~ and ~ handsome ~ suits, 

glitter, ~ laughter, ~ food ~ and romance…

It ~ is ~ once ~ again ~ time ~ for ~ our ~ favourite ~ tradition.

I ~ am ~ looking ~ for\||/ard ~ to ~ seeing ~ you ~ there.

Best ~ regards,

Your ~ host ~ Zamiir ~ Paradi.

IT IS THE MOST WONDERFUL TIIIIME OF THE YEAR!!!

This is the 6:th ball I’m hosting for Tumblr’s fantroll community, does that make you feel old or what?! Sure makes me realize how long I’ve spent here!

For those who are new: The past five years I’ve been hosting this event, The Ball of 12:th Perigee Eve, which is supposed to be a sort of Alternian Yule Ball.

Each year, the event has been quite a success, and been bringing the community, roleplayers and their characters together… 

Thus, it has become a bit of a tradition for me to host this for the Fantroll Community!

Please enjoy! <3

- @taimatrolls

Keep reading

I just walked past Five Guys and it’s just het couples not speaking to each other and greasy business men. @ Sadiq Khan fix this haram mess

8

Well, no doubt you have more dashing heroes in your past. If there weren’t I wouldn’t be here. To heroes, then. And to the one as yet unsung hero who has saved me over and over again.

Okay, hear me out:

What if all of the manga is just Vincent’s answer to Rachel’s question:

“What’s the worst that could happen with twins?”

What’s on my mind is

that scar on the left side of your face,
right below the sharp edge of your jaw,
how it looks like an arrow. How I wish
I were brave enough to trace my finger
like a road on a map until I hit somewhere 

to call home.

When you drank your first beer, did you
pretend to feel the buzz just to make the
cool kids stop calling you a fucking loser?
Or maybe you were the cool kid. Maybe you
pressed cheap alcohol into the palms of kids
like me. Careful kids. Color in the lines kids.

Also, key lime pie. Specifically, my mom’s.
Would you eat it? I know you hate pie, but
how many girls’ moms’ pies have you eaten
just to please some girl’s mom? A lot, I’m sure.

Too many. But I like you. Even though you are
a raging republican. Even though you practice
dinner party talk in my bed. (Especially because
I think that’s you trying to impress me.) And

sometimes, when we dare to let the silence sit,
I wonder if the first people to get married
regretted it. Did they lie side-by-side five years
past their vows and rearrange letters of the
alphabet just to find the right word: Done.
Damaged. Different. Devoid. Divide. Divorce.

Yes, they thought, as they unlinked their hands.
Divorce. Because it burns something ugly on the tongue.
I wonder if we’ll ever get divorced before I remember
that we aren’t married. We aren’t anything. Then,
of course, I wonder, what the hell we’re doing.

And on that note: Hell.
Do you believe in it?
Because I do. I think I do.

At least I might.

Or do you make up stories about the girl over there
nose deep in the Bible or the man with no hair
who keeps nodding off. The people on subways and
street corners, half-awake. When you guess at their lives,
are they happily ever afters with green grass lawns
and dogs who don’t bark? Do they believe in hell?

And even if they do and you do and suddenly you see some
small fragment of yourself in the glass of her eyes, does that
mean you won’t bury her jagged pieces so deep she loses her
sharpness? And when she exhumes that grave and slips
idiosyncrasies back under her skin like splinters, will you stay
for something beyond the guilt? When she finally cracks open
her mind just to let you peek at the bone and raw edges,
will you even remember asking for all of this in the first place?

No. Of course you won’t.

So I smile. I stretch. You hold me like a question mark, quiet
and careful and waiting. There are things you’d like me to say,
but the silence is so much sweeter. Stranger hands wander down
my waist, and you ask, once more, “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” I say. “I was just falling asleep.“
fight or flight

Thanks to her legendary clumsiness, Marinette accidentally reveals herself to none other than Adrien Agreste, but luck is on her side as their relationship takes a turn for the better.

chapter 1: marinette falls through a window and makes a mistake that ends up being good for her

read on ao3


Marinette wasn’t the most careful person in the world, but she was cautious enough to never be found out. She had memorised her spots and the perfect times to be alone in a room, to not get caught.

Luck didn’t seem to be on her side today, however.

She was so sure that the locker room would be empty at this time, it was past five and no sports practice was scheduled on a Friday afternoon. Ladybug was so sure of the fact that as she swung in through the window, she neglected to look at her surroundings and check for anyone wondering in or around the room.

When Ladybug became Marinette in a wash of red light, she opened her eyes, ready to breathe a sigh of relief, collect her books and go home for the weekend. Instead, as she opened her eyes and gathered her surroundings, she saw a mostly empty room, save for one very real and very shocked Adrien Agreste leaning on the wall for support.

read on ao3

Tough to post this publicly, but I need you all to know what’s going on with me, so here goes… for the past five or six years I’ve been letting it go as an accidental mispronunciation, but last night I definitively learned that I’m married to someone that thinks that Jedi Knights fight with “Lightsavers”.

Light. Savers.

How do we move on from this?

Imagine Laura telling Sherman about everything that happened in the movie. “Hey Dad so uh you know how Carm and I have been living a safe peaceful domestic life for the past five years? Well Carm’s ex Elle started haunting me in my dreams and Carm started randomly biting me so we went to an old house in Styria and the Bronte sisters were there and Elle sliced my hand open and turned my friends into piles of ash and we all got warped into a nightmare dimension but it’s okay she’s gone now. Also Carm is a vampire again. Oh by the way are you coming up for Christmas this year?”

The poor man would probably have a heart attack.