my hair is way more purple today

The Party Crashers

Orphan Brigade [High School Years]: Geoffs boys are growing up fast. They’re attending High School, meeting girls and participating in epic heists.

Trigger Warning: Guns and Violence

Ryan’s parents were typical socialites. They were always well dressed with faux-perky personalities. Every weekend was spent at extravagant events all over the city. They would grasp any excuse to host parties of their own. Which was why Ryan had dreaded his graduation. 

The party was an over the top, lavish affair. Filled with people he barely recognised and had no interest in socialising with. He counted down the hours until he could escape to Geoffs penthouse and spend the rest of the night with his true family. 

Ryan looked up with a relieved sigh as he spotted Meg walk through the door. She had a similar upbringing to him. Their mothers were close friends, so he had known her since she had been born. Meg was one of the few people who understood how draining and dull the socialite lifestyle could actually be. 

He walked over with a calm smile, passing her a drink. “Purple today huh?” He asked, gesturing to her glistening hair. 

“You should have seen my moms face when she saw it.” Meg laughed discreetly. “I thought her head was going to implode. You’d think it was the end of the world the way she reacts.” 

“Well, I think it suits you.” Ryan complimented her with an easy smile. Meg was a good friend and helped him to feel more at ease despite the situation. 

His peace was short lived as gun shots were heard at the entrance to the party. 

“What the hell…?” Ryan muttered under his breath.

“Where is he?!” A brutish man stormed into the party, waving the gun above his head. Two other burly men followed behind him. “Where is the Vagabond!” 

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Back with something silly that came to mind a while ago. Have art proffesor!Reyes that takes a stranger to his apartment one night and he turns out to be the model for his class the next day. McReyes with background Symbra and the cool kids.



Gabriel was seeing all the colors every time he closed his eyes. It felt cliché to say a rainbow, but it was a twisted version of one fading into the sky after a storm. He saw dark red every time the stranger sunk his teeth into his skin, like blood, like a glass of wine going down his throat. He tasted yellow when they kissed, the sun itself, bright and energized. He saw brown when he looked into the obviously younger man’s eyes, shining sinhalite under the light of his room. He saw the gemstones forging under his blazing gaze when he growled. It made Gabe’s mouth dry, thirsty for a glass whisky. Gabriel felt like a king when the man’s nails scratched his back, like gold was peeking through the wounds. And he definitely saw white when he hit the climax. A flash so blinding even with his eyes close. White like the clouds up in the sky. With the divine pleads coming from the younger man’s mouth, Gabriel felt like he had touched the heavens.

The room was on fire and vibrant as the night grew colder and older. The mysterious cowboy that approached him at the bar rode him through the night. Gabriel inspected him from hat to the spurs at the ankles of his boots; he thought this guy would never get a chance. But the more the stranger’s velvet voice and laugh overshadowed the music in the bar, the more intoxicated Gabriel felt. Before Gabriel could stop himself, he was pinning the younger man into a wall of the club and letting him sway his hips against his own. The cowboy kept calling him names like ‘sweetheart’, ‘sugar’ and ‘darling’. The latter seemed to be a favorite. They didn’t ask for names nor life stories, only wanted a good time and Gabriel doesn’t regret it.

Gabe isn’t surprised to wake up and find the cowboy by his side, snoring and deep asleep. The white sheets line up the curve of his hips right, itching Gabriel to trace those lines again. The man’s hair is like brown strokes of paint over the white pillows, softly drawn and perfectly pigmented. Gabriel uses his finger to lower the sheets until the sweet round butt cheeks of the younger man came to view. He licks his lips to the thought of another round. It’d have to be quick, but he thinks the stranger would be glad to be fucked senseless against the wall. Sadly, Gabriel’s alarm reminds him he can’t afford another one, not even if it’s quick.

Gabriel brews a pot of coffee while he gets dressed and before he can leave his room, the cowboy stirs awake.

“Mornin’, sunshine.” He turns towards Gabriel. “Is that coffee I smell?”

“I can give you a to-go cup.”

“How mighty kind of you.” The man sits up, the sheets almost reveal his soft member. Gabriel gazes over the hair on the man’s chest and down the trail to his crotch. He leaves the room before his thirsty mouth says something.

Gabriel walks the man to the door, almost about to leave himself. But before the cowboy walks out of the door, he catches Gabriel’s lips with his own and drinks the leftover coffee taste from the older man’s mouth. Gabriel would be lying if he didn’t feel dizzy after the gift. He also feels the man’s hand slipping in one of the back pocket of his jeans.

“Don’t hesitate to call, sugar,” the man says, close to his lips.

Once he leaves, Gabriel pulls out the piece of folded paper. The dog paws on the corner let him know it’s from the small notebook he leaves on the kitchen counter to write down his grocery lists and important details. There are seven digits and below a ‘J’. Gabriel scoffs and leaves the note on the coffee table to think it over later.

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Healing (Charoix/Akko family AU)

Croix drew out a long breath as she got home. She closed the door behind her, and was met with nothing but darkness. She didn’t expect anything else, after all, Akko was still a child and she couldn’t stay awake to this hour and Chariot…

Chariot was another story.

Croix opened her bedroom’s door to find her wife and daughter sleeping together. Chariot’s arm gently rested on their little angel, who smiled and her sleep. The purple haired witch couldn’t keep the smile off her face, but it faded when she glanced at the red head. She lied on her bed, and wrapped an arm around Chariot’s wait, but she was surprised when her wife leaned back and interlocked their fingers.

“Did I wake you up?” She asked.

“No.” Chariot answered, sounding very tired. It hurt Croix to see her in such a state. Her lover was distressed and she did not know what to do. She spent many nights holding her while she cried over the dream that she lost. “How was your day?” The red head asked.

“It could have been better.” It could have been better if she knew that her wife was fine, but she wasn’t and that thought kept her anxious all the time.

“I’m sorry.” Chariot apologized, as if hearing the woman’s train of thoughts. “I’m causing you so much trouble…”

Croix frowned and made her turn to face her. The sight of tears in those red eyes caused her so much pain.

“No, you’re not. I love you Chariot, and I’ll do anything for you. Those witches are the ones who caused this, they’re the ones they hurt you.” She said, trying not to let her anger take over, and instead she focused on the love she felt towards Chariot. She kissed her, and when she pulled away, there was a small smile on her wife’s lips. “I can always teach them a lesson if you want. I have an army waiting to attack.” She said, causing Chariot to laugh. Oh, how much she loved the sound of her laughter, it was like a melody, a blessing to her ears. “I wasn’t joking.”

Of course she wasn’t. She really had an army of roombas ready to attack.

When she woke up in the morning, she was surprised to see only Akko beside her, and for a moment, she panicked and went to look for her.

She smelled something coming from the kitchen and headed towards it to find Chariot preparing breakfast. It was the first time she left her bed for weeks.

A smile found its way to Croix’s face as she walked towards her wife and hugged her from behind. The action took Chariot by surprise, but then she smiled and turned to look at her.

“Good morning.” Chariot said, smiling.

“Good morning.” Croix said with the biggest grin. “I must admit I’m surprised to see you here…”

“You have been taking care of me while all I did was cry and sleep… and while I know I can never shine again, it made me realize that I still have something more important. My family.” Chariot admitted, staring lovingly at Croix. She hasn’t fully recovered from what happened, but she was healing, and that was all that mattered. She leaned up to kiss her, to love her, in the hopes of giving her even a fraction of the care and affection that Croix gave her. Her hands found their way to the purple haired witch’s neck, while the latter brought her closer to her.

But they both pulled away when Akko walked in, rubbing her sleepy eyes. She looked at her mothers then grinned and raised her hands into the air. “Mommy is cooking today! Yay!”

“You make it sound as if you hate my cooking, little angel…” Croix pouted, while Chariot who was still in her arms laughed at her reaction.

As long as she had them, she can heal.


Picked up one Kuu Kuu Harajuku today at Walmart since you can’t get them from Amazon anymore, I figured I’d get the one I wanted…but they didn’t have the black girl or the purple brown haired girl so they must be in separate packs, went to two different Walmarts, one “urban” one country and neither of them had those two so the black girl is going to be my grail doll for this series.
They have nice detail to the clothing, more than the budget MH have been having, and way more than EAH has dwindled down to. Like the Party Ghouls she has charms you can put on her hair bow or put them on a bracelet for kids to wear.
The clothing style couldn’t be any further from what kids are actually wearing in Harajuku, but I’m just putting the title aside and trying to enjoy the dolls. The Gwen one has sparkles in her hair, but no one else does, she’s also the most in a pack so when clearance comes I’m betting it’ll all be Gwens. They had just put out the dolls and there were only 2 black haired girl (Love) 3 brown haired pigtails (Angel) and all the rest were Gwen (G). The search begins for the elusive Asian girl and black girl sigh. You know why have an Asian girl in a line about Harajuku? Boo.

So I'm a little pissed.

Why does “gender neutral” mean masculine clothes, flat chests, being skinny, white, and having short coloured hair?

I’m genderfluid, and today I happen to identify as neutral/agender.

I have regular, short, pixie cut brown hair. I am curvy. (I also also happen to be white.) Today I’m wearing a normal bra, jeans that show off my figure, and a purple top, unbuttoned to show off my cute tank top and the fact that I have boobs. Just because I dress more “womanly” doesn’t make my gender identity any less valid.

Wear skirts. Leave your hair natural. Leave it long and glorious. Stay curvy or skinny or heavy: stay just the way you are. Wear sundresses. Wear makeup. Paint your nails. Show off your figure, because it’s flattering no matter what you look like. If you are dmab, you can wear all the tank tops and jeans that are clearly meant for cisboys. You can be as masculine as you want. If you are a PoC, you’re wonderful and amazing just the way you are. Don’t let people tell you that white people look more neutral, because you look just as great. You look neutral too.

You’re all incredible. So this needs to stop. Stop equating agender/neutral to being skinny, white, having a flat chest, masculine clothes, and colored hair. If you like this style, that’s perfectly okay. But most people do not look like these individuals.

You’re perfect. Stay strong: no matter how you dress, your gender identity is not any less valid than the next cisperson dressing like you.


just got my hair cut and while the colour fades each time it almost seems to get more iridescent? also I just narrowly avoided getting caught in a rainstorm on the way back aaaaa what the fuck UK

also apparently straightening my hair makes me 40% more anime (or maybe related to Jim Hawkins)

sorry for all the selfies in placement of actual drawings today forgive me this is all I have

anonymous asked:

Tell a sad story

Last summer I fell in love with a girl. It was May 31st and I was at a party for the first time. I was 16 years old and it felt so wrong yet so exciting. I was getting over my past love who couldn’t understand my attachments and left me out to dry with the excuse of “confused feelings”. I was at the party, drinking everything in sight and meeting a myriad of new people. There were many attractive girls at the party but I sat down on the couch and only one caught my eye. She was tall, had purple hair, and was sitting on the couch with her own bottle of peach vodka in her hand. I talked to her and eventually tried some of her vodka (it was amazing) and we got to talking. She and I didn’t talk too much because I watched her make out with several guys (and girls) but that didn’t seem to bother me. As the party winded down, she came to find me for a kiss before her departure; however, me being drunk and not kissing many girls before then, I was clueless and we simply hugged. The next day I messaged her and found out that she was a senior at my school and that she was quite fond of me. We began talking nonstop. She was graduating in two weeks and we promised that wouldn’t be the end of us, she isn’t very good with promises. I was a Sophomore and she was a Senior so we had completely different schedules but that didn’t stop us from seeing each other. We played a game where we would try and spot each other in the hall and see who could find the other the most times. Even today I still search the halls for that purple hair. We weren’t able to spend any time together outside of school due to finals and her graduation but yearbooks came out and we decided that we would swap yearbooks and each take them home so we could each write something long and intimate. It was cute the way she was nervous about me writing more than her because she knew that I was a writer and a sentimental man but let me tell you her words still speak volumes to my heart. We switched back and my heart melted reading her words filled with jokes, compliments, and the occasional stab at me that reminded me of why I loved her. Graduation came and I was clueless to think I would ever see her again. She was so excited to get a picture with me in her graduation photo and although I didn’t look the best, she was stunning in her white gown. After that night she disappeared. When I did get a hold of her it was always “Sorry I was busy” or “My life is just really crazy right now” until I finally asked her if she was seeing someone else. Her reply broke my heart and broke me, starting my summer off on a great note. She’s never responded to my pleas for her to talk to me. In my yearbook she wrote,“Please don’t ever forget me, I’ll never forget you”. I’ve held up my end of the deal but it sure feels like she’s forgotten me.

There is more after this with her that happened after but you asked for a sad story :)

On Things I Am Savoring

Drinking lemon drop moonshine mixed with peppermint lemonade and ice in my air conditioned bedroom, sprawled out on the bed with Ben, catching our breath, bare-legged and sweaty after a long, warm walk home from Cobble Hill.

I’m wearing my favorite black summer dress and the same silk blouse I wore two years ago when he first asked me to tell him what color his eyes were and we stared quietly at each other for 10 seconds. They are blue gray like the ocean in Cape Cod, where he has never been, but I’ll take him someday and tell him all about my childhood.

Yesterday we went to the Brooklyn museum where you can walk through reproductions of 18th century homes, peer into living rooms with velvet chairs and read about bedchambers and fashionable paint colors. We spent a long time looking at Judy Chicago’s work - all pastels and pussies, china plates and color wheels, curves and dreams and goddesses. Afterwards it rained and we went out for cocktails made delicately, carefully - his a dark auburn bourbon and sherry, mine a tingly serrano-infused honey syrup with pineapple rum.

On the way home I bought flowers - peonies and lilacs - heavy, deeply fragrant bunches of pink and purple. Today, I left 8 books in the little free library on my street. It’s more of a little wooden birdhouse for unwanted books than a library. On Friday I worked a black vanilla cream through my hair in the shower, rinsing it out under the warm water with slow, gentle hands. All of these things are calm and rich and good. 

I feel drunk on this city. Drunk on gnocchetti di spinaci in a sage and butter sauce, drunk on the back alleys of Chinatown where you can buy live crab, jade jewelry, or a dollar bag full of warm mini pancakes. Drunk on perfume samples in the Lower East Side, expensive silk dresses in beautiful shop windows, mojitos garnished with bright sprigs of fresh mint, the big wide window on the 2nd floor of the Sunshine Cinema, vanilla cupcakes with thick, white frosting. 

On Friday night we were caught in rainstorm on the way to dinner, laughing uncontrollably at our soaked selves under an awning in Soho, watching the cabs go by. I felt very much in love, with Ben and with New York, and very lucky that the 3 of us get along so famously.