little dingy

What I learned from watching eps 1-4 of Hwarang:

1) The director likes messing with your feels.

2) The director REALLY likes messing with your goddamn feels.

3) Soo Ho is an extremely cute, yet really dingy, little shit that I just want to hug and feed cookies to all day.

4) Ban Ryu is extremely hot and pulls off the ‘cold guy’ persona well. If he cries, I cry.

5) Soo Ho and Ban Ryu’s rivalry is really cute tbh, fight me on this.

6) I want to see Hwarang football become a thing cause that shit is intense.

7) I don’t know if I can properly get through Han Sung’s scenes without dying from feels cause I love the person playing him so damn much.

8) Moo Myung/Sun Woo has a habit of making your skin erupt into goosebumps because of all the shit he does.

9) Aro is useless thus far.

10) The queen is a tyrannical bitch that I’d like to overthrow myself.

Clockwork

Frank Castle x Reader

Originally posted by calif0rnia-lovers

a/n; so this came to me whilst i was reading my copy of milk and honey, and despite telling you guys i was going to bulk post, i just couldn’t wait to post this one. it’s a different style, so i hope you like it! enjoy! <3

@phoenixejean @raypclmer @shayara @rax-writes @emmcfrxst @put-in-writing


“the next time you 

have your coffee black 

you’ll last the bitter state 

he left you in 

it will make you weep 

but you’ll never 

stop drinking 

you’d rather have 

the darkest parts of him 

than have nothing”

-rupi kaur

She’s like clockwork.

Every afternoon, she will come into the dingy little diner on her lunch break and order the same thing. Black coffee, no sugar, no cream. She will order a blueberry muffin but she won’t touch it. She will drink the coffee and wince at the bitter taste but will continue to drink it until every drop is inside of her.

She’ll smile kindly at the elderly waitress, and the waitress will pretend to ignore the distant, numb look that the young woman holds in her eyes. She’ll leave a small tip and thank the waitress, heels clicking as she leaves to go back to her office job.

Every day, she does this. She’s done it every day, even when the man with scraped knuckles stopped coming with her.

The man that used to come with her, was a man that wore a heavy jacket in the middle of the Summer without complaints, one that had bruises blossom on his skin like flowers. He was a man that looked like he’d never seen a happy day. But when she met him there, he couldn’t hide the fond grin that took up his face.

He’d stand and pull her in by her wrist, pressing an almost chaste kiss to her lips before they sat down. Before he stopped meeting her there, she’d always order a latte and the same blueberry muffin. He’d always order just the black coffee, in which she’d grin and say,

I don’t understand how you can drink that, Frank. It’s so gross.”

He’d roll his eyes at her and take a piece of her muffin, and say,

“I’m an old man, sweetheart. Y’get used to it.”

They’d do this every day. They’d make idle conversation and tangle their feet underneath the table, looking at each other like they’ve found what they’ve always been looking for. The waiters had grown used to them, looking forward to their presence every day, at noon.

Sometimes after the elderly waiters and waitresses went home and the younger, livelier waiters came for the night shift, the man and woman would come. They’d come with fresh, deep marks on their necks and she’d be wearing a shirt that belonged to him. Despite the lack of PDA, it was made quite obvious that she was his, as he was hers.

She’d order her latte and muffin, and he’d order his black coffee. Like clockwork.

But ever since he stopped meeting her, her fond and beautiful smile was replaced with a tight, pitiful smile. The elderly and young waiters noticed, and could only assume the obvious. Like taking a stab in the dark.

Tonight she comes in, this time with no marks on her neck, but with bags under her eyes and her sweats in substitute of her usual work clothes. She slides into her usual booth and the young waitress glides over with the black coffee and muffin almost two minutes later.

As the waitress pours the coffee, she hears the woman sniff. She flickers her gaze from the coffee pot to the woman, who’s wiping at her nose with her shirtsleeve. The waitress gulps. She wants to talk to her: she feels as if she knows what’s going on, being an outsider who’s been observing in the background.

“Do you- do you want to talk about it?” The waitress asks suddenly. There are no other customers waiting for her.

The woman looks at the young waitress with bright red eyes, as if contemplating whether saying ‘yes’ is a good idea or not. But she just nods. After all, no one has been empathetic enough to listen.

The waitress slides in across from her, occupying the space the man had once sat in. It’s just another bitter reminder that he’s not coming back.

The silent is thick as the waitress watches her pick at her muffin. She still doesn’t eat it. The waitress doesn’t push for anything, letting her take her time before talking. She pours herself her own cup of coffee, making a face as she takes a sip.

“Don’t know how you can drink this stuff.” She jokes lightly, pushing the cup off to the side.

“You get used to it,” the woman finally speaks, with a hollow laugh. “That’s what he always said.” The small smile on her face slowly disintegrates, her fingers flicking off the muffin crumbs onto the table.

“The man?” The waitress asks. “The one that used to come in with you?”

The woman nods, picking up her coffee and taking a sip. She doesn’t wince this time.

“Frank,” she says carefully, as if saying his name as if he was in the area: listening, waiting. “Frank could drink that stuff all the time. He loves it.”

“Frank,” the waitress repeats slowly, swirling a spoon in her coffee. “He seemed like a good guy.”

“He still is, s’just- he just-” She struggles to find the words that could describe a man like Frank. “He didn’t seem to think he was good. Especially not for me.”

The waitress sighs and leans back in the booth.

“One of those guys?” She states as if she’s known the struggle. “I used to have a boyfriend like that. Thought he was no good for me because he was ‘damaged goods,’ or whatever. At least that’s what he said.”

This makes the woman laugh because Frank wasn’t an angsty teenager who occasionally smoked weed to seem edgy. No, Frank is a man who’s lost his family and himself and takes lives.

“Yeah, I guess you could say he’s one of those guys.” A lie. He’s not.

They sit in silence for a couple minutes, and the waitress watches as she finishes off the black coffee without flinching. Just like he used to.

“Do you think he’s coming back?” The waitress suddenly questions.

The woman stands, rifling through her wallet, taking out some cash as she shakes her head.

“Probably not,” she answers, eyes becoming glassy with tears she’ll shed when she gets out on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. “At least not anytime soon.”

She throws a twenty on the table, more than enough for her coffee and muffin. The woman gives the waitress a sad smile, before stepping out into the cold New York air.

Despite the cold, bitter rival that’s reality, the woman comes back every day at noon for her black coffee and muffin.

Like clockwork.

anonymous asked:

Hi mister! I have a bit of an odd question. Do you know any ways to wash stuffies? I have a build a bear who is about four years old at this point and goes every where with me but is a little dingy and I am scared to hurt him. Any advice?

This is an incredibly good question… and one that will take some patience and a slow hand.

My great friend Jennibellarella, being an experienced stuffie doctor and professor of stuffanomics has your handy dandy how to gude. 

HOW TO PROPERLY CLEAN YOUR STUFFIES

http://jennibellarella.tumblr.com/post/141267964322/after-all-dos-snuggles-cuddles-and-adventures

PRIDE || MAFIA!Seokmin [Chp 1]

BLURB: Sometimes we put on facades to seem stronger than we are, when all we need is someone to tell us they will hold our hand through it all.

GENRE: mafia!au, action, mystery, family

WORDS: 1688

PART: 1 |


You knew it was a bad idea the moment Wonho had brought it up in the dingy little store room that served as the gang’s “headquarters” while planning the next heist. It was still a bad idea now, three weeks later, as the four of you – Wonho, Hyungwon, Minhyuk and yourself – entered the badly-lit convenience store on the street corner, hiding switchblades and stink bombs in deep jacket pockets with the hoods up at 7:50 in the evening.

This was enemy territory.

You knew it, Wonho knew it, hell the whole gang knew it, and yet he still insisted on carrying out the plan anyway. The knuckle head. He thought that just because he was the supposed “leader” of the gang he could do whatever he wanted. In a way he could and no one had the right to question him. But if he wanted to live his sick dream of becoming top mobster someday he couldn’t just disregard the rules like this. It would get him killed and he would be dead long before he even gets a taste of what being a mobster feels like. Not that you were sticking around to find out. You were only there temporarily. Only for some food…

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Imagine trying to make Christmas happy for Sirius.


You squeezed Sirius’s hand tightly in your excitement, carefully maneuvering him into your flat and making sure that he didn’t blindly bump into anything under your guidance.

“It smells very sweet in here,” He commented, prompting you to look at his eyes and check that he wasn’t peeking. “Are those cookies I smell?”

“They may or may not be. But if they are and you look I will eat them all while you dangle from the ceiling,” You threaten, pulling him over to the dingy little couch in your sitting room. “Alright. You sit, I’ll be right back.” 

You darted over to the corner of the room and turned on the lights, watching the room sparkle with every color of the rainbow.

“Open your eyes.”

Sirius blinked his eyes open, looking around at the decorations you put up. While he had been working you had taken the time to sweep, mop, wipe, and scrub every surface and then cover it in Christmas. There was even a little 5 foot tall tree in the corner near the kitchen. It was covered in mismatched baubles and tinsel, but you thought it looked quite nice with the lights and the presents underneath. You had even gotten a muggle toy train to circle the base of the tree. You looked around at your handy work, admiring the paper snow flakes scattered along the walls while you waited for Sirius to speak.

It took a lot longer than you expected. 

When you realized that it had been a minute of silence you turned your head toward him. Sirius was on his feet but he hadn’t moved. He was just staring at you. You smiled.

“Merry Christmas,” You said softly. Sirius stepped toward you, gently cupping your cheeks with his long cool fingers. 

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” 

Someone once suggested that perhaps the best translation of Selah!—the Hebrew word we find sprinkled like seasoning throughout the Psalms—is “Shut up! And pay attention!” I like that. I need to stop—to be jolted out of my comatose coasting. I need to be surprised and awed and enlivened by things rather than just letting the world blur past me in my drive-by, fly-by, race-by life. I need to hear the Shut up! too, need to quiet the incessant monologue of judgment and comparison and ridicule and mockery and fear that roils inside me, long enough to notice something, to encounter something other, something outside of myself. Selah! is an invitation to be like Muir, to throw open the blinds and let the world come streaming in like the sun. It’s an invitation to fly my coop and step outside this dingy little cabin, to be sensuous and ecstatic, to romp around the world and climb up the highest tree on the highest hill in the neighborhood and cling there for a while, billowing in the Wind like a flag, holding on and holding out for dear life. It’s an invitation to attend, to observe, to contemplate, to notice, to pay attention!
—  Michael Yankoski, The Sacred Year

courfeyrac stuck overnight at a train station because the train was cancelled and he has no cash for a hotel.. the train station is 24/7 so he waits with the only other guy there who looks like a student…then at about 3am he starts singing to himself because he cant sleep and the other guy joins in.. so courfeyrac introduces himself to the handsome bedraggled man, who introduces himself as combeferre and for some reason combeferre decides to teach him how to waltz at 5am at a dingy little train station in the ass end of nowhere… 4 years later they get married and they still haven’t told their friends they their first real interaction was singing ‘my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard’

Forever- A Jelix Angst One-Shot

Jack groaned, lifting his head slightly off the ground. His vision was blurred as he wearily looked around the dimly lit room he was encased in. Jack noticed another figure lying close to him, a figure with blood coated golden hair shining in what little light brightened the dingy room.

Jack gasped in pain as a stinging sensation ran up his arm. Glancing down at his limbs, he discovered that a large, bloody slash has been engraved from his wrist to his elbow. Hissing as the cold air graced his injury, he focused his attention on the unconscious figure still on the ground. Jack moved closer to the unknown person, and brushed their hair away from their face, jumping in shock when he realized that it was Felix, his boyfriend of five years, lying limp on the dusty floor.

“Felix… Please, wake up….” Jack cried, tears spilling down his face as he felt Felix’s pale skin.

He was ice cold.

Jack grasped Felix’s blood-covered hand, pulling it to his lips, and placing a light kiss on the knuckles, tears cascading down his face.
“Felix, please, please, for the love of God, wake up…” Jack begged.

Felix let out a light moan and his sky blue eyes fluttered open, meeting Jack’s sapphire ones.

“Jack…” Felix gasped out, squeezing his eyes shut in pain. Jack could tell that his boyfriend was in immense agony, and looked down at Felix’s chest, widening his eyes at the gruesome scene there. He felt guilty that he couldn’t do anything to help him. A few tears fell out of Felix’s eyes.

“Jack… You know… That you’re my…. everything… and I… love you, so… so much…” Felix muttered as loud as he could, clasping Jack’s small hand in his own. “I love you Sean.” Felix said gently, and Jack smiled through the waterfall of tears falling down his face.

“I love you too Felix, so, so much. You’re gonna be okay, baby. It’s okay.” Jack choked out, clinging on to Felix’s hand tighter.

Felix smiled at his boyfriend, his world, and shook his head. “Not this time, baby.”

Jack watched in horror as Felix took one more gasping breath, and closed his eyes.

Never opening them again.

Jack had never screamed as much as he did then, never cried as much as he did, clinging on to Felix’s cold body as the life escaped from him.

Felix was his life, his world, his universe. And it was gone.

Forever.


Hey everyone! Thank you all so much for reading this.

I knew I had to get back into writing again, and this seemed like something to start off with.

I’m still writing Chapter Two of Apocalyptic Love, so if you want to check out the first chapter, it would be much appreciated!

Cheers

bakushima coffee shop au where bakugou works in this dingy little coffee shop called ‘the hideout’ with midoriya and iida and uraraka and he is Banned from making customers drinks because for some reason all his drinks taste awful but one day when kirishima comes in, bakugou is the only one out front so he makes one for him but it is literally the worst thing kirishima has ever tasted in his life but the weird cashier with the mean eyes and snarl is looking at him so hopefully so kirishima pretends he likes it and bakugou’s face lights up and kirishima is just “oh….oh” and ‘the hideout’ quickly becomes kirishima’s favourite place to hang out after lectures because it’s really small and cozy and the staff are lovely and, ok, the drinks are terrible and he’s not sure how bakugou manages to mess something as simple as a cappucino up, but he does, but maybe it’s worth it because every time he takes a sip he gets to see more and more of bakugou’s smile and, eventually, he starts to get used to the god awful drinks bakugou makes to the point where when he actually has decently made coffee he finds himself craving the impossibly bitter taste of bakugou’s drinks and that’s when he realises he maybe kind of likes this guy a lot and yeah and one day he’s there when it’s late and they’re hanging out together and bakugou is like “shit im thirsty” and reaches for kirishima’s cup before he can stop him and for the first time ever bakugou tastes him own coffee and he is Disgusted, he’s all “what the fuck?? how the fuck are u drinking this what the fuck i can literally feel it burning away my insides whAT THE FUCK????” and kirishima just shrugs because he actually genuinely likes it now and bakugou is looking at him like he’s just sprouted another head and kirishima just laughs and says smnth like “i guess it just tastes different to me” and bakugou is all “well now i wna know what it tastes like to you cause this right here???tastes like dog shit” and kirishima shrugs and says “alright then” and bakugou’s like “what?” and then kirishima is leaning in halfway for a kiss and ahhh bakugou finally catches in on and leans in the rest of the way and they have their first kiss and bakugou can still taste his awful, fucking awful, drink in kirishima’s mouth but…for some reason…it doesnt taste as bad like this

(iida and uraraka are watching from the back because somehow these 2 idiots have forgotten they’re not alone in the shop)

anonymous asked:

Can you do me a favor and tell me which chapter in part 1 that Loki and Stjarna first sleep together? I'd love to go back and relive that lol.

Absolutely, I have all the chapters’ contents memorized. :P 

Chapter 22 was when Loki and Stjarna first made love, in a dingy little inn in London, England, while the harsh Midgardian winter raged outside. Or rather, only partially raged. I should have made it blizzard now that I look back on it. >:[

I headcanon party poison as being hella ace. So what if he’s at this dingy little bar waaaay out in zone 6 or something and he starts talking to this guy and party being the lil shit he is is all like yo wanna come back to my place? So they drive there and the dudes all ready to frick frack and party’s like no ur joining our gang were called the killjoys we have jackets cmon it’ll be fun and that’s how frank joined.

Born to Die (part three)

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warnings: Language.

Word count: 1,285

Prompt: Imagine Dean and you fighting and he tells you that you should leave.

Author’s note: I’m so happy that you guys are enjoying this series as much as I am enjoying writing it! As always, feedback and requests are always welcome. Don’t be shy, lovelies! c:

(part one) - (part two) - (part four)

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Lost | Loved - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne, Titus
Summary: This Bruce Wayne doesn’t have children. This Bruce Wayne has no idea who he is. But maybe that could only last so long.
A/N: Based on today’s Batman #43, and something Alfred seemed to specifically not mention to Bruce during their chat. So. Read that first, or read a summary or look up the panels to know what I’m talking about. Also from some convos with nevolition about how DEVASTATING THIS WOULD BE FOR HIS KIDS, but especially the baby. :( Except I’m a little tipsy and having an unhappy ending just wouldn’t do, so. Yeah. This is gonna rot your damn teeth. Damian was at Wayne Tower doing some work with Lucius and Luke, I dunno. They let him bring his dog because reasons.

~~

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rexcrystallis  asked:

He'd tried to tell Nyx he wasn't ready. But the man insisted. Said in Galadi culture, a mother's blessing was everything. The fuck was Nyx doing? Blessing for what? Still, Noctis gathers all his charm, so when he meets Nyx's mother he's pleasant. And courteous. And mostly pleasant. Yeah. Let's wing this through being pleasant--

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your High- Noctis …” Nyx had warned her not to go full royal protocol, but it just felt so bare not to address the prince by his lofty titles. They were small-town farmers who had the heir to the throne of Lucis in the living room of their dingy little apartment … she was struggling with the reality of the situation too. And she had the suspicion that Noctis was just as nervous as she was.

She could remember meeting her husband’s mother for the first time many years ago - the nerves in her stomach had almost made her vomit.

Kaleb was no help and she had ushered him out of the kitchen after two minutes - he was getting in her way and annoying her.

Blushing, Sarah swept her hair out of her eyes and looked to the prince again. He was a prince, yes but he was also a very important person in her son’s life and she couldn’t be happier. So she forced herself to override all ingrained royal rigmaroles and offered a bright smile. 

“Nyx has told me so much about you, it’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

dr-luna  asked:

What's your favorite LoZ ship? I personally like the King of Red Lions but to each their own

Kind of Red Lions definitely has some personality, but I like Skippers little dingy as well. It has a motor.

I know my LEAST favorite is the one in OoT’s Shadow Temple, just boooring. Fighting skeletons on a death river and sinking at the end? how cliche can you get.

Demon Luke Pt. 6

Requested: Yes

Summary: It’s your birthday, and Luke decides to pay you a little visit. Things get a little hazy after you’ve had one of the bar’s strongest drinks, but that doesn’t mean you’re not fully aware of the fact that your back is pressed up against a wall with Luke’s lips attacking yours.

Word Count: 1378

One || Two || Three || Four || Five ||

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anonymous asked:

vex pretending to be a real witch for some kids and trying to convince percy to play along for a prompt!

I’m gonna do this in Modern AU.  Also sorry for the long ass wait.  I had to wade through a lake of personal life issues to find the right inspiration and time.

- - -

Vex and Vax had been living in this dingy little block of flats for in this crappy neighbourhood of Emon for little more than a year before they discovered that the local children had developed a sort of mythology about them, since they evidently gave the impression of being quite mysterious.

According to the lore, Vax was some sort of superpowered vigilante who roamed the streets at night, kicking the ass of any shady characters he met.  Vax rather liked this idea and cultivated it, playing along whenever a kid asked him odd questions.   Vex was sure he enjoyed being seen as a roguish protector and letting the neighbourhood kids pretend they were all in on this big secret.

The lore about Vex was quite different.  They said that she was a powerful witch and that her big dog, Trinket, was her familiar.  If you lied or tried to do anything sneaky around her, she would know and strike fear into your heart.  If you said her name five times in front of a mirror, lit a pine scented candle, and then slept with a gold coin under your pillow, she couldn’t cast any spells on you for a full moon cycle.

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“Strawberries” - lexark drabble

Alicia was apprehensive at first, but the pond was small and you could see clear to the bottom. Elyza had even taken initiative to wade in with her shirt knotted around her middle, boyshorts, and her double barrel trained on the water’s surface to scout it out.

There were no infected, it was just clean, cool water. Alicia tried to remember the last time she actually enjoyed being in the water after what they went through on the boat… But this was a pond, not the ocean. This was clear, fresh water, not murky polluted and deadly saltwater. This was going to feel amazing since she hadn’t been able to bathe properly for three weeks.

They found the pond and immediately doubled back to a little convenience store they passed on the way to gather supplies. It was a dingy little town in the middle of nowhere. They carried soap and shampoo among other things in a tote bag, unwilling to risk any of that exploding in their backpacks. Her travels with Elyza took her further and further from the urban life she knew so intimately and, gratefully, far away from the sea of rotting dead. It was a change that was both welcome and disconcerting. The unknown always was. But she trusted Elyza. There was no one else she would ever follow so blindly as she did this woman.

So there they were by a little pond hidden away in a large farming field. It was only by chance that they had stumbled upon it. Or, as Elyza put it, “a fucking miracle”.

Alicia shrugged off her flannel over-shirt and pulled off her tank top. Making quick work of her bra and shorts as well. She never wore underwear anymore.

“God, you’re beautiful,” she heard Elyza murmur behind her.

Her heart fluttered and a blush crept up her cheeks. She turned around, smiling, only to have it fall flat.

Elyza didn’t even notice she’d undressed. The blonde was sitting on the grass, holding up a large, perfectly ripe, bright red strawberry. Her lustful gaze was reserved for the fruit and the fruit alone.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

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