october is going to be great

anonymous asked:

Did you every visit Comic-Con? If not, would you? Eventually if it was nearer by you? I would visit it if it was somewhere in Europe (I'm from germany). It looks like fun to see the panels/cast.


I’ve never been, and I would absolutely love to go one year. I think it would be great fun. Unfortunately I’m a long way away as well! I usually visit the US once a year around October/November for GayRomLit, and I can’t really justify two trips a year! I need to sell more books first, I think! 

SKAM 4.03 Clip 2 - Congratulations On The Bus

[300 000 kr - Apply on financialaid.no today]
[I’m hurt because you never replied to my meme]
[The kids around you are hurt because you’re chatting during work hours]
[Hah! I’m free on Mondays. You thought you were smart now
How’s the russ bus?]
[It’s going great if you tell me how to earn 300 000 kr fast]
SARA: Hi! We heard you got the bus. Congratulations.
SANA: Thanks.
SARA: And we’re wondering about something…
INGRID: Would you maybe want to join us?
SARA: Yeah, we just thought because you’re 5 and we’re 20 and the bus has 25 seats, so we thought maybe it could be a match? And we know we maybe haven’t been the world’s best friends, but we don’t really know why.
SANA: Because you called Vilde a slut at Borkis’s pregame in October 2015.
SARA: Oh, I had completely forgotten about that, but I apologize.
SANA: We’ll join on two conditions.
SARA: Okay?
SANA: You pay for the bus, and I become the bus boss.
SARA: Uh… We have to discuss that with the girls…
SANA: Either we make a deal now, or there’s not going to be a bus.
SARA: Yeah. Okay. Uh, we’re in then.
SANA: Good! Tell me the names of all the people on the bus and I’ll invite you to a bus meeting.
SARA: Okay…
VILDE: What did they want? Have you talked to them?
SANA: I have news. Where is Chris?
EVA: In Berlin. What’s up?
SANA: We have joined forces with the Pepsi-Max squad.
EVA: Are you kidding?  
VILDE: What does that mean?
SANA: It means they pay for the bus and I become the bus boss.
VILDE: Why do you get to be bus boss?
NOORA: Do you mean we’re joining with Pepsi-Max?
SANA: Either we join with the Pepsi-Max squad, or there won’t be a bus. So we have to have a bus meeting this week. Eva, can you host?
EVA: I can’t host again, like ever.
SANA: Noora, the kollektiv?
NOORA: Those girls are not coming into my apartment.
SANA: Vilde?
VILDE: No, uhh… Mom is…
SANA: Your mom is not having a wine tasting party, Vilde.
VILDE: Why can’t you host for once?

imagine CEO namjoon.

Originally posted by cuteguk

  • what’s there to say? we already know he’s a great leader.
  • heir to the country’s largest publishing/printing firm.
  • also the greenest publishing/printing company in the country, like top five in the world, all thanks to namjoon’s initiatives.
  • he takes the whole inheriting business thing very seriously, determined to deserve the company and to be the best boss ever.
  • graduates early from a prestiged business school abroad and shares the responsibilities at the company to give his ageing father a break.
  • he’s so !!!! invested !!! in the health and happiness of his employees !!!!
  • wins All The Awards, for his green initiatives, planting trees, and making jobs, and protecting the environment ect, but also for having the happiest employees in the country.
  • he’s always arranging conferences and seminars for his employees to educate and encourage health/happiness/safety/equal opportunity/respect/ect in the workplace.
  • he works so hard to make sure everyone even down to the lowest branches are insured and that there are daycares and mom’s get the paid leave they need and deserve and that everyone gets and equal and fair wage.
  • bless him.
  • unfortunately all this work on top of his official workload means he doesn’t have much time to look after himself.
  • but in his mind he’s suffering is worth the safety and health of so many others he doesn’t even mind tho he’s kinda sad.
  • so, you work in the HR department.
  • and the head of the department fucks off on maternity leave and by some miracle ???? you get a hasty promotion.
  • no, you’re not really the head of HR but your function is pretty much the same and you don’t mind because the pay is goOD.
  • part of your responsibilities as head is to keep namjoon briefed on the general mood and concern of the people in his branch, i.e the large building full of people he feels directly responsible for.
  • he even has a whole suggestion box system, so once a week you just have to go through the notes people leave you and present a list to namjoon with a few possible solutions etc.
  • piece of cake.
  • except he’s hot as all hell.
  • i mean, it’s not a problem, far from it, he’s just very distracting.
  • but your meetings with him are the highlight of your work week so you do a really good job or at least you try, and also wear something nice.
  • and you think he’s just kinda clumsy and awkward.
  • but actually he finds you really distracting as well.
  • and your meetings are A Mess for the first month or so, until you get into the swing of things and get your shit together.
  • and the complaints he gets are never a big deal because everyone is happy and has nothing to complain about like ???
  • his secretary complaining that him playing smooth jazz all day in his office is getting kinda annoying and please would he play some classical or maybe bossa nova for a change.
  • or that his wacky ties and other questionable fashion choices are giving them a headache.
  • or jeon jungkook complaining about someone’s coffee breath again.
  • an anonymous submission says jimin is apparently??? too??? cute???
  • jung hoseok won’t stop moonwalking to the photocopier while humming thriller and it’s not even october and michael jackson doesn’t even moonwalk to thriller ugh ???????
  • yoongi keeps falling asleep at his desk and forgetting to go home at the end of the day.
  • harmless stuff like that. 
  • (namjoon stays late so he starts driving yoongi home because that’s just the kind of Great boss he is.)
  • and most of the time you two spend these meeting gossiping about drama between the departments and rolling on the floor laughing.
  • and you’re so in awe that someone can be so wonderful and selfless, making use of his privilege to protect people less fortune than him.
  • and your meeting are usually after lunch, so you come back from lunch to find him buried in paperwork and you begin to wonder, who takes care of him?
  • you ask if he had lunch and he’s like lol of course not have you met me
  • and you suggest postponing the meeting because there’s nothing urgent going on and you can take care of “kim taehyung keeps sneaking his dog into the office” on your own.
  • but he’s like “nO!!! please, our meetings are the only break i get, they keep me sane, they’re kinda the highlight of my week.”
  • and you sputter like ????? “im,,,what??? me ?? too?”
  • from that day on he starts taking you out for lunch every week and that way your meetings get twice as long.
  • and eventually you have to ask him, since nothing is going on in the office, “what about you, namjoon? how are you doing?”
  • and he thinks for a moment and he’s like “you know what, i feel kinda shitty actually.”
  • so you let him vent all his sadness and weird existential thoughts and angst for a few weeks and eventually suggest maybe he takes responsibility for his own health and happiness and maybe a good step would be to see a therapist?
  • and he does because he values your opinion and honestly it’s the only selfish thing he’s done in years and it makes him feel 1000001x better to have his concerns and ideas affirmed and listened to by a professional. therapy is cool, kids.
  • and one day shy joonie hands you a little poem he wrote you on a post-it, describing all the little detail he’s observed about him that makes his heart race and his head go all slow and foggy.
  • because he really,,,,,,,,,,,,, really likes you, and hopes this isn’t weird or anything if you don’t feel the same way that’s cool but he’s felt this way for a while and you’re the best thing that’s happened to him since this company and he just thought you deserved to know and he’s sorry.
  • and you have to like glue yourself to that dining chair so you don’t climb that dang table and throw yourself at him because namjoon is the most wonderful man on earth you treasure him and you want to keep him safe and happy because he deserves as much kindness as he’s prepared to give and he has nothing to be sorry for and you love him.
  • and he loves you too.
  • anyway, nsfw under the cut.

Keep reading

colorfuldare said:I love the Magisterium series. Could you release any type of clips or information??? Thanks ❤️

yoursmile-myghost said:Hi Cassie! I just wanted to ask how things are going with The Silver Mask. I’m so excited for it to come out!!

Things are great! Silver Mask is coming October 10th and Holly and I are geared up and excited. A snippet:

That night, though, Call didn’t dream, and when he woke up, there was a guard outside his cell, holding his tray of breakfast.
“You’ve got another visitor,” the guard said, looking at Call sideways. He was pretty sure all the guards were still waiting for him to slay them with that charisma.
Call sat up. “Who is it?”
The guard shrugged. “Some student from your school.”
Call’s heart began to pound. It was Tamara. It had to be Tamara. Who else would visit him?
He barely noticed the guard sliding the breakfast tray through the narrow opening at the bottom of the door. He was too busy sitting up straight and running his fingers through his tangled hair, trying to calm it and figure out what to say to Tamara when she came in.
Hey, how are you doing, sorry I let our best friend get killed …
The door opened and his visitor came through, walking between two guards. It was a Magisterium student — that was true.
But it wasn’t Tamara…

Keep reading

Great Comet Characters as stuff I've heard at school
  • Natasha: "I'm just a perpetual parade of sickness and bad decisions."
  • Pierre: "Silence is the sound of thinking... or death."
  • Sonya: "I am a donut."
  • Marya D: "I am the momma bear of this friend group. Although NO ONE ever listens to my advice."
  • Anatole: "Prison is an institution, marriage is an institution; I rest my case."
  • Hélène: "Well I've been debating whether I'm bi or a lesbian, because I seem to lean toward girls but I like to take as much as I can get."
  • Dolokhov: "Turns out there was a murderer outside my house the whole time! I could've been killed! I could've been the murderer!"
  • Mary: "I AM A GOOD CHILD OF THE LORD BABY JESUS IN HEAVEN AMEN AND GOD BLESS"
  • Andrey: "What the fuck am I even here for anyway?"
  • Bolkonsky: "*middle of March* I haven't had any idea what's been going in this class since October"
  • Balaga: "If manslaughter wasn't illegal I'd have committed it by now."
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25 January 1503  Margaret Tudor married James IV of Scotland by proxy. The marriage between the Thistle and the Rose was to have repercussions for Scottish history down to this day. Margaret was thirteen years old and James was thirty when the couple were married. The official wedding rite was performed on August 8, 1503 at Holyrood Palace. A short coronation ceremony followed. The marriage was one of strong affection, James was attentive and generous. The first three years of the marriage were pleasant and full of social engagements. At age sixteen the couple had their first child, and eventually six different pregnancies would follow.  

In 1513, Margaret was torn between her brother and her husband. She had prophetic dreams and asked James not to go to war. James met the English at Flodden Field on September 9, 1513 where he lost his life along with the flower of the Scottish nobility. Margaret was to pass of a stroke on October 18, 1541 at Methven Castle. Her brother Henry VIII had excluded her heirs from the line of succession in his will. Her lasting legacy was that her great-grandchild ended up on the throne. Scotland and England were joined together into Great Britain.

So it was July 14 and I was minding my business.


But I thought, “No way, man — this is going to be over soon.” So I tuned in to watch the boys on GMA on August 4.


I was feeling great when I settled in with my snacks to enjoy a night of OTRA concert videos on October 21.


But it’s all OK … I was so happy to see pap pics of Harry arriving in LA on January 20!


After a whole year of shit with the awful Jungwirths and Clarks, and Danielle’s dreadful pageant smile and purse-swinging, we finally got the good news that Douis was over on January 19!!


Oh. Hi, Eleanor.

S A V I O R (B. Barnes x Reader)

Word count: 2688

Warnings: Kissing, some Russian and this is shit, but whatever.


Longing, Rusted, Seventeen, Daybreak, Furnace, Nine, Benign, Homecoming, One, Freight car
Тоска, проржавевший, семнадцать, Рассвет, печи, девять, доброкачественная, встреча выпускников/корпоративы, один, грузовых автомобилей

My hands sting and I can already feel the bruises beginning to form.
I sit to catch my breath, in the deafening silence I hear a drop of my blood hit the scuffed wooden floor.

Looking back, not wrapping my hands was a bad idea.

I get onto my feet and hook another bag up. This time, being careful to wash and wrap my hands.
Letting out years of pent up anger felt good after a long day of dealing with idiotic people.

“You should probably take care of that first.” Steve comments just as I knock the bag off its chain, accidentally spilling sand across the floor.
“If it isn’t the star-spangled man with a plan, why are you here? What do you want?”
“I don’t want anything -” he says obviously finding humour in his joke. My patience is running thin and I shoot him a glare.
He clears his throat, regaining his composure. “Fury wanted to see you.”
“Fury? Nick Fury, the one that relieved me of my title as field agent?-” Steve tries to cut me off
“-All because yours truly made one little mistake-”
“You almost got us killed.” He cuts in
“But I didn’t! I came in and saved your ass, again!”
“You wouldn’t have had to save us if you stuck to the orders!”
“It was my brother! What would you have done! I fixed my mistake, but Fury didn’t give me my second chance, why should I give him his?”
“Y/N I-” he sighs “I need your help.”
I shoot him a questioning look. “My silence is your cue.”
“Do you remember Bucky?”
“Bucky. Barnes?…The Winter Soldier? Yeah, why?”
“S.H.E.I.L.D wants to recruit him”
“Why? He tried to kill us. You were his mission-”
“I was his friend.”
“Steve, Bucky was your friend, the Winter Soldier, he’s your enemy. You can’t save him. He’s long gone. And he tried to kill us.”
“He remembers.” Steve argues “H-he’s still the Bucky I used to know, deep down.” He clears his throat again.
“Fury said that if you brought him back successfully-and alive- he’ll give you your job back.”
“Fine, but I’m doing this for me, and only me, not for you or your issues with your broken boyfriend.” Steve barely contained his excitement as we walk to the jet waiting outside. After a short flight to Stark tower and many questioning glances, we’re sat around a table discussing the terms of the mission.

“There are tracking devices in all the weapons in case you decide to go rogue.”
“Stark, I take my job very seriously.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, it’s just a precaution.”
I glance over the weapons layed out in front on me and pick a few, stuffing them in my duffle bag. I pause when I see an unfamiliar weapon. “Hey, Stark, what’s this?”
“Turn it away from you, press the green button, it vaporizes whatever its aimed at.” He demonstrated on a vase sitting on the table and it turned to a pile of ash.
“Woah. That’s awesome!”
“Thank you.”
“Tony, if only you were as big as your ego, maybe you’d be able to reach the top shelf.” Although he was a few inches taller than me I still liked to tease him about his height compared to the others.

I sat back down looking over the Winter Soldier’s case file once again, taking in all the details, adding them to what I already know. In his military picture he looks young, determined, sweet, definitely handsome, probably a ladies man with his hair neatly cut and gelled.
In the other two he looked different. There’s one of him in cryo. Even in his frozen state you can still make out the crease in his brow, he looks like he’s… in pain. The one of him in action, a majority of his face is covered by a black mask, his hair long and messy. His metal arm stood out against his black uniform. The vibranium caught the sun and made the red star stand out even more. The way I recognized him best, as the Winter Soldier.

“Y/N!”
“What?” I say snapping out of my stupor

“You spaced out, it’s time for us to leave, you’re headed to Shelbyville, Indiana, that’s where the target was seen last.”

“He’s not a target.” Steve yelled from down the hall, slamming the door.

“Actually, Sam? Wilson, right? Alright bird-boy. I say we head to Washington. I was thinking metal-man grew up in Indiana, maybe he went looking for answers he couldn’t find. If you’re a fossil who doesn’t know how to properly use a computer, where would you go to search for the past?”

“The Smithsonian.” Bruce chimed in when we walked past him lab. I shot him a smile, seeing as he was the only one who sided with me when I almost got them killed, he’s one of my favorites. Him and Natasha that is. Agent Romanoff was always one of my favourites.
“Exactly, there’s a big plaque dedicated to Barnes there. I say we check it out. I don’t think Barnes would stay in one place too long, he knows he’s wanted.”
“You really think he’s there?”
“Wilson, I’m a spy, its my job to know where people are.” I send over my shoulder on my way into the quinjet. I’m met with a light chuckle from Mr. Patriotism himself. “What’re you laughing at?”
“You know, you’re quite funny, agent Y/L/N.” I’m slightly startled by the title, not being used to it anymore. Does he just have that much faith that I’ll succeed? Although, I’ve only failed one or two missions. “Alright Rogers, we’ve got three hours on the jet, try to behave.”

Three hours later I’m dropped off at one of Stark’s safe houses a few blocks from the Smithsonian.
“Call when you’ve got him, we’ll send a jet. And Y/N, please, don’t hurt him unless you absolutely need to.” A quick nod and a small smile from the Captain is my parting, from here I’m on my own. I head into the small rundown house, it’s bigger on the inside, cleaner and brighter too. There’s a bed to one side and a bathroom on the other.

“There’s no place like home.”

I drop my duffle and slip a gun into the waistband of my pants. I also grab a knife and slip it into the holster in my jacket, you can’t be too careful.

I decide to take the small ‘getaway’ car in the garage. Its not as great as Steve’s bug though.

The first few days go by with no sign of the infamous soldier. I’m caught off guard to finally see the one and only sporting a baseball cap, jeans and a sweatshirt. He has gloves on too, it seems. Its not too cold, it’s only late October, he’s most likely trying to hide the metal that could set civilians into a panic and most certainly give him away. He’s standing near the plaque dedicated to the one James Barnes of the 107th.

I stand and observe him for a little while. He reads the words over and over again. Its a good ten minutes before I finally walk over, careful not to startle him. I stand next to him and read the plaque for myself.
“Bucky seems like he was a great person, definitely someone you’d want to befriend.” He seems caught off guard by my words and he takes a second to comprehend my sentence.
“Yeah I bet he was a great person.” He says. “Was.” He says. I don’t comment on it because I know I wasn’t supposed to hear it. After another few minutes of silence I start again.

“You know, Steve really misses you.” His head shoots up and his eyes are dark and guarded. He recognized the name.

“He remembers.” Steve’s words play over in my head.

“Who sent you?” He questions obviously ready for a fight.
“S.H.E.I.L.D.” the look on his face tells me he doesn’t believe me.
“They want to recruit you.” No response.
“Bucky-” recognition crosses his features, but is gone almost immediately and his eyes soften, barely. He looked like he was thinking hard, remembering.
“-Steve wants you back, he wants you to remember and I can help.” I show him my S.H.E.I.L.D badge for proof
“Okay.”
“Let’s go because that guard hasn’t stopped watching you since you came in.” We head towards the street making our way to my car.
A tall man blocks our way. I pull out a gun and shoot. I clip his shoulder and he gets my leg, I collapse, but shoot again, this time its a head shot. The car’s gone and I can’t walk.
“How’d you get those through security?”
“Same way you got your arm through. Can you carry me, I can’t walk.” He picks me up as if I weighed nothing while I made a makeshift tourniquet.
I call Steve and then Romanoff and Banner, but none of them answer. He sets me down in a chair when we reach the safe house.
“Well, Earth’s mightiest heroes aren’t answering, I guess we’ll spend the night here. I’ll take first watch. You rest.” He hesitates, obviously not trusting me.
“If Steve trusts me, you can too. I promise.” He gets up and heads towards the bathroom. I hear the water start to run. I decide to make something light to eat for us, assuming he hasn’t had much lately. I hear the door click open.
“Hey, I made us dinner-” he standing in the doorway with only a towel wrapped around his waist. “I uhm, left my clothes.”
I hand him his clothes and try to keep my gaze from wandering. The door clicks shut again and I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding in. I sit on the bed and begin eating my sandwich. Bucky comes out, fully clothed with his hair neatly combed. I hand him his plate.
“You know, if there’s anything you want to know about yourself, I could try to answer, the basics at least. You’ll have to ask Rogers on the rest.”
“You know, that wasn’t me. None of it was me, I killed… So many people b-but, it wasn’t me.”
“I know Bucky.” I say taking his plate as he lays down.

He tosses and turns for hours. And when his breathing finally evens out I’m relieved to know he’s at least resting. I know what torture can do to a person. He sleeps for about an hour before he wakes up, immediately on guard. He wraps his metal hand around my throat
“Кто тебя послал?” Who sent you?
I’ve never been caught like this before, I could get out easily, but that would only make him more nervous,
“Bucky.” I choke out. “Its me, no one sent me.” His eyes soften and he drops me.
“I’m so sorry.” He says softly, glancing at the forming bruises.
“Its okay, I have them too, you know.” He looks surprised,
“You do?”
“Mm.” He looks at me for another second before going and sitting on the bed. He mutters quietly in Russian, but I can’t make out the words. I sidestep my bag and go to the sink.
“Drink.” I say handing him the glass. “What were you just mumbling?”
“Пытки равна прочности.”
“Torture equals strength.” We say together.
“ It was written on every surface back at Hydra.” I sit on the bed next to him, a bit closer than necessary.
“Все это будет нормально.” It’ll all be okay
He looks up at me and for the first time I see the ghost of a smile grace his features.
My phone rings interrupting our conversation.
“I’m sorry, we had a mission, I’ll come out to pick you up now.”

Thanks Clint, see you soon.“

“Katniss will be here soon, just throw your stuff in my duffle, I got it.” He does as he’s told, obviously confused, and goes back to his spot on the bed. It kind of set me off that he was trusting me. I knew well enough that it was an act. That he would try something. It was almost too easy.

×××

Bucky became my new partner on all my missions and he’s remembering more and more.
With the help of Steve of course.
Its been about 2 years. I’ll fill you in on the details.

I was right, when Clint came, Bucky tried to escape. To kill us. He didn’t succeed. He was locked up for a while, with only minimal visits from me or from Steve. Steve helped him to remember, I was like a therapist. Maybe it was because I didn’t remind him, maybe because I was, in a sense, a stranger, but nevertheless, we grew closer. Eventually, I got Fury to agree to let Barnes roam, with me as an escort. Once he was stable enough, he began training, which, in my opinion, he didn’t need. And then he was recruited.

“Hey, Buck, we gotta go, we’re on our way to Vegas, remember?”
Finally, a mission in a nice place. We drop down and check into a nice hotel, that’s a new one. There’s a Hydra base under one of the abandoned casinos in town and its our job to take it down.

×××

“Hey Buck, we’re in Vegas, we should do something fun.”
I say as we walk away from the burning building, cliché am I right?

“Why don’t we go back to the hotel and order room service? Watch a few movies, I’m still not caught up with the 21st century.” I laugh and nod my head in agreement.
I collapse on the bed and bury my face in the pillow.
“Are you tired, Мой ангел?”
I feel a rush of warmth at the name. Did he just call me his angel?
“No, just getting comfy.” I reply, my voice muffled my the pillow.
“I can make you comfy.” He says climbing in beside me and pulling me to him. He trails kisses up my neck to my jaw. I turn over to face him and give him a puzzled look. I’m not denying my feelings, everyone knew they were there, we’ve just never… confronted it, or even talked about it. And he’s never this carefree.

He smiles and captures my lips with his, a soft, yet hungry kiss, like he’d been waiting to do it. He wanted me just as badly as I wanted him. I wrapped my legs around his waist and he instinctively put his hands on either side of my head to hold himself up. I tuck my hand up under his shirt and he pulls away only long enough my me to slip his shirt off and throw it across the room. I trace the skin where the metal meets, its still red, but not as bad as when I caught him watching his own reflection. As if he were a monster, a few weeks after I brought him to S.H.E.I.L.D. he slipped my shirt up over my head and trailed kisses down my neck, to my chest and onto my stomach, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He brings his mouth back up to mine and his tongue skims my bottom lip. The moment ends when my phone rings insanely loudly. Bucky curses under his breath.
“What?” I snap at the person on the other line.
“Did I interrupt?” Comes the snarky voice of Tony on the other end.
“Why are you calling, Stark?”
“I sent Natasha to come get you guys, she’ll be there in a few hours.”
I end the call without a goodbye and look to the soldier piercing me with his blue eyes.
“I’m sorry.” He just chuckles and places a light kiss to my forehead.
“We’d better get dressed.” He muses a playful smirk on his face.
“To be continued, Кукла.”

Doll.

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New commission prices! Most things increased by a few dollar, but the Icons I’ve lowered the price of and even included a new deal price! 
Pretty much all the money I make off of commissions go to my moving fund as well as money to go meet the most amazing girl everrr @cereusblue in October! So Any help would be great! 
If you can’t afford a commission, maybe consider reblogging to spread the word?

theguardian.com
Janelle Monáe: ‘I am the whole package’
She’s a musician whose work has brought her massive acclaim. She’s also an outspoken activist in the Black Lives Matter movement, and now Janelle Monáe is in Moonlight, one of the most talked about films of the year
By Shahesta Shaitly

“She then moved to Atlanta, Georgia, after she finished her studies. She’d update her MySpace profile while working at Office Depot to make ends meet, and came to the attention of fellow Atlantan Big Boi of Outkast. They became collaborators and, in 2006, he introduced her to Sean “Diddy” Combs, who offered her a recording contract. Monáe was initially wary of signing her creative control away, but took the chance and it paid off. “Diddy was hands off and wanted me to do my thing. That’s why he’d offered to sign me in the first place, because I was different and I was the whole package.” 

Monáe has led marches for Black Lives Matter, performed at a concert in aid of the water crisis in Flint, Michigan, alongside Stevie Wonder last year, and released a protest song, “Hell You Talmbout”, in October in response to the police brutality. Unsurprisingly, she is no fan of Donald Trump. “Millennials will not be silenced – we’re the powerhouse now. We’re not going to let those who want to ‘make America great again’ truly take over. Because what Trump means by ‘making America great again’ is oppressing women, oppressing minorities, creating hate. We’re not allowing him to run the world, even though he thinks he is.”

Read the full interview here

More posts on Janelle Monáe

Vampire hunter/Vampire AU Rhack..!

Woo! Glad I got to finish this before Halloween ended haha. I wish I could color this too but I just don’t have the time. :’( October has been an especially busy month for me.

This drawing is a small thank-you gift to all the rhack fan-artists and fanfic writers who shared amazing stories, artworks, and ideas with everyone else.

Since I’ve understood the charm of Borderlands and rhack beginning of this year (2016), going through your works after a tough day has been one of the most enjoyable experiences I’ve had (and still continues to be! :D 

Thank you for being awesome and I hope you all have a great Halloween!!

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Kyuhyun: I try to listen to all types of music. I listen to ballad all four seasons, but I also really like hip hop. When it’s really hot, I don’t want to listen to ballads but when it gets cold, I want to. Last year, I released an album in October, but it was too hot, so I didn’t want to listen to my own song… I think songs go with the seasons. I think I have to release during autumn and winter.

MC: Who do you think you’ll pass on that title to?

Kyuhyun: I don’t think I am a prince… Not sure, but I think Onew is similar to me. Not after me, but he is great on his own. If we go to EXO, it’s Chen.

Today has been a lesson in intense birding. 

So to clear my head today, I went to the park early in the morning. Around dawn and around dusk are the best times to spot wildlife. Plus, the last time I was at Blendon Woods I walked past this patch of wild mustard JUST as the sun was rising- bright pink and orange sky with deep blue shadows marbled into it, bright yellow plants swaying in the breeze, deep shadows of trees in the background. It would have been a GREAT photograph. I got my camera out, lined up my shot… aaaaand… left the SD card in the computer at home. 

That was in October, so I’ve been itching to go back and try again. 

So anyway. 

I get out of my car and walk about twenty feet before I hear ‘gobblegobblegobble.’ 

I ain’t a city boy, okay? I know what a turkey sounds like. 

Turn to my left and there’s a couple turkeys hanging out over by the ranger’s station. Cool! They’ve got their feathers up, so they’re upset about something. I decide to go in the other direction. 

Start going down the hill into the woods. I hear that gobbling again, but it’s a little far off. I keep going. 

About twenty feet into the path, I see two turkeys. One male, one female. They’re a good thirty feet away. I get a couple photos of them from there. He’s all puffed up so he probably knows I’m there. I decide to let them keep going to avoid pissing him off any further. 

They go a good ten feet off the path and I figure I’m good to go. 

I start walking again. 

That’s when I hear the gobbling come from behind me. And I’m like… oh shit- the entire flock has found me. And for those of you who don’t know… a flock of turkeys ends up being like 30 of them. 

I have a platoon of wild turkeys converging on me slowly. 

Oh no. 

I have aggressed them.

The turkey that I’d been taking photos of suddenly hops back onto the path and starts chasing me.

If you’ve never seen a turkey run, they are fast motherfuckers. And you’re reminded that they descended from dinosaurs. So I have the great great great great (etc) grandson of velociraptor mongolienesis chasing after me for getting too into his personal space bubble. 

I don’t know how bad a turkey can bite. I am not adventurous enough to find out. I do not want to explain to the doctor that I pissed off Thanksgiving dinner. 

I get about a quarter of a mile down the path and I no longer hear turkeys. 

I have reached a space of relative safety. 

But listen- this is not a big park. And turkeys… there are a lot of turkeys. Every time I turn a corner, there’s at least three turkeys pecking at stuff on the ground. And even if they don’t give a crap about me,  I am now SCARED OF TURKEYS. 

Get down the path and there’s a handful of them suddenly behind me. 

Keep going forward to get away from them, there’s another six twenty feet down the path. 

I am blocked in. I am frozen. The only thing I can do is stand very still and hope that they walk past me. But every tiny little movement I make catches their attention and they all lift their heads up to see what made the noise before making that awful, awful sound. 

Some joggers come up the path and all their heads turn to see what’s going on over there. 

The turkeys part like the Red Sea to make room for the joggers. 

I was never in any danger. 

As I leave the park, gobbling can be heard in the distance. 

I really want a turkey burger. 

Dragons

This is going to be a long story. 

Some of you, those who have been following me for a while or seen me at conventions, know that I am *trying* to branch out into designing toys rather than just making them. There are a lot of reasons for this, primarily so that I have time: time to design new things, time to rest, time to do literally anything other than crochet delightful sea creatures - you get the gist. 

It’s not that I don’t love making things, I do. And I’m certainly not going to stop making things; I’m pretty sure I can’t, to be honest. But I have to admit that it would certainly be much easier on me, at least for my wrists, to have sewing machines do most of the work. 

So. The dragons. 

I finally made enough money to get a run of plushies made, and I decided to start with my red dragons as my first line. Dragons were one of my most popular items, but they were a lot of work to make, so I figured they would be perfect as plushies. 

I decided to go with Gann Memorials for my production. Now that I’ve already made my mistakes, I’ve had a lot of people tell me that I should never have partnered with Gann, but since nobody felt the need to tell me anything about them previous to my giving them quite a lot of money, that’s who I went with. I did have one person tell me that they were “skeevy”, but since she wouldn’t go into any detail or even use any other words to describe them, I assumed her issue was personal in nature and dismissed it. I wasn’t planning on spending time with these people, I reasoned, just entering into a business arrangement with them. I don’t care if they’re skeevy. I care if they’re competent. 

Well, now I know. 

We began in July of 2015, a year and a half ago. I made the initial phone call (which was grand, because I have social anxiety and calling people on the phone is one of my least favorite things to do). Chris Gann (hereafter Chris) was a genial guy, very much a salesman - but, since I was looking to buy things from him, that was pretty much what I was looking for. We set up an account for me. Promises were made, verbal assurances; they specialize in quick turnaround for orders, I’d have them in less than three months (assuming that I don’t take forever making alterations, of course), they have very high quality standards, et cetera. 

A few days later he set up a Basecamp account. Basecamp is an app for communication between people working on a project together. I can definitely recommend it; it works out beautifully for that precise thing. The account was started July 27. 

So far, so good. 

On August 11, he sent me the first sample images. They needed some tweaking, but I was starting to get excited. I made my recommendations and he went off to relay them to the production team. 

On August 19, he sent the second sample images. These were very close. I accepted this version:

Cute, right? I think it’s cute. Grumpy, but not off-putting; now that I have a little more experience under my belt, I can see where I would make further changes, but it’s still very cute.  

September 1: Chris tells me that the dragons will be shipped to me in October. 

September 7: Chris informs me that these guys are going to need tags. I hadn’t thought about that, but I whip up an acceptable tag design (it’s not great but it’ll work) and send it off to him two days later. I don’t hear back from him until October 2nd, when I ask for a shipping estimate; Chris assures me that they’ll ship by the end of the month. 

October 21: Chris asks me to approve the tag design that I had sent him. I’m a little confused, but I approve. The day after, I approve of the shipping mark and I start to get myself emotionally prepared to receive a large shipment of toys. 

October 29: I check up again on the time frame. Chris says he’ll ask. 

November 2: Chris says that they’ll be shipped by the end of the week. 

I want to point out here that Chris told me they would be *delivered* by the end of October, not shipped at the beginning of November. I’m a little unhappy with this, but you know, things happen. Whatever. I’ll probably shop around for the next line of plushies due to this delay; he hasn’t lost my business forever at this point, but neither has he pleased me to the point where I would go with his company again as a matter of course. 

November 5: Chris sends me pictures of the final product. There’s not much in the way of variation from what I had already approved, so I assume all is well. He also tells me that I’ll be getting extra product on their dime. I am pleased by the prospect, as that would mollify me about the delay. Unfortunately, it turns out not to be true. 

Novemter 18: I receive the boxes. I do not believe in putting things off, so I opened them immediately and went through my product, counting and sorting carefully. I am widely dismayed by what I find. 

I ordered 350 dragons. It’s a small order, in the way of these things, but it was what I could afford. I did receive exactly 350 dragons, but they were not what I had approved. Every aspect was correct and acceptable *except* the most important part of any mammal, toy or not: the face. In this case, the eyes. Of the whole order, 17 dragons had split seams (not a big deal, I’m handy with a needle and I understand that they underwent significant squishing in order to fit them into as few boxes as possible to make shipping affordable); 46 were correct, as in their eye placement and shape were in a range close to what I had approved of; and a whopping 286 of them had what I have to call drastically incorrect eye placement. Here’s what I mean: 

The eyelids are too low and placed at the wrong angle, making it look sleepy (still sellable, but not what I paid for). The eyelids are, by the way, glued into place. 

These eyes are totally wrong (and, may I remind you, glued into place, so I can’t fix it without cutting the eyes out completely). That’s just… wrong. 

This guy has to be my favorite. One eye is significantly larger than the other one and has been placed about a quarter inch higher; the eyelids are entirely wonky - and still glued into place. 

Dec 3: Chris tells me he is trying to work things out with the factory; I send him the above images for clarification. He says he may just have me keep what I received and he will replace the entire order on his dime. 

I am, at this point, entirely depressed. I feel like a failure. I have a certainty that this issue will not be corrected, and even if it is, it won’t be corrected in anything like a reasonable time scale. I feel that I have wasted a very large sum of money and way too much time and it makes me angry and hugely, vastly, deeply disappointed. 

January 5, 2016: Chris asks me if the appearance of the dragons I received is somehow different from the sample I approved. I wonder to myself if he has working eyeballs, or at least knows someone who does, but I respond in the affirmative and re-send all of the pictures, including the one I approved for reference. All of these pictures are still in the Basecamp account. All I have to do is scroll to look at these exact same pictures, but I send them again anyways. I also ask for honesty, here; if he’s not going to fix this, please at least have the decency to tell me about it so I can move on with my life and not have to expend my energy trying to get something done here. 

January 7: Chris takes umbrage at the notion that he might just possibly not bother to fix these glaring mistakes, as he is nothing if not forthright and good. I point out that the delivery took much, much longer than he had initially told me, and that the extra product that was supposed to be included with the shipment never showed up. 

January 8: Chris says that he  misspoke about me getting extras; there will not be another box forthcoming, he was mistaken about that. He does graciously allow me to keep the gigantic pile of unsellable, wasted material that they sent me, and promises that he’ll have the dragons remade at his expense and the issue with the eyes will definitely be fixed in the next batch. (This also turns out to be untrue.)

January 9: Chris tells me that the next batch will ship out after the Chinese New Year. This makes sense to me; holidays always mess up shipping times, and these are travelling across the planet, after all. I settle down and assume they’ll be here in six to eight weeks. 

April 20: This is more than six to eight weeks, you will notice. Chris tells me to expect a shipment some time late next month. I have given up on ever seeing these damn things. 

September 23: Chris sends new pictures for approval. It has been over a year since the first time I went through this process; I was told that I would have them in under three months. Over a year. I’ve moved to a different state by this point and yes, I was snippy. I pointed out that in the FIVE MONTHS since I last heard from him, my address had changed. 

I liked the new ones. These looked angrier. If I got dragons like these, I would be able to sell them in exchange for money. 

November 16: Chris asks me for my delivery address. Again. I ask if this indicates that they will be shipped soon, but there’s no response. 

January 10, 2017: Gene Gann, another employee of Gann Memorials, informs me that I should expect my shipment by mid-February. 

February 8: Gene asks me for my phone number, which I supply, so the shipper can get into contact with me to set up a delivery time. 

February 15: The shipper calls me. We set up a delivery time. 

February 17, 2017: I receive six boxes full of dragons. They have the same qualities of the first batch, only there are more of them this time. Four - I repeat, four - are correct, in that they match the above picture. A further 189 are in sellable condition, looking sleepy or disappointed rather than angry but otherwise having no defects. 27 have split seams, only three of which I bother fixing since the other 24 have devastatingly bizarre eye placement. 303 dragons go into boxes with glued-on, incorrectly placed, wrongly sized eyes. 

In the end, I’ve received a total of 243 dragons that are in a sellable condition. Only a small portion of those actually resemble what I ordered. 589 dragons can only be sold as misfits. I put some in grab bags, feeling guilty. I see them in trash cans at conventions and can’t really blame anyone. 218 dragons, which should have been sold at a profit to fund the next line, are utterly unusable. I have scrapped them and am using their stuffing to fill other projects. 

I am bitter about the entire thing. I am angry. I am never, ever going to do business with Gann Memorials again, nor will I recommend them to anyone, as I cannot with good conscience do so, because if they had an experience anything similar to mine I would be wracked with the most horrible guilt. 

I *am* going to try again. As tempting as it is to simply give up, to assume that there is something lacking about my character, that there is something about me that makes things like this happen, I won’t do it. I’m saving up for another line of plush toys. I am shopping around for a different company to work with. 

My hands are tired and my blood pressure is high, but I’m still going. 


(I want to put in a disclaimer that I am not assuming anything about the personal morality of Chris or Gene Gann. I do not want them attacked or thought of in any wrong way because of how all of this went down. This was a business deal, and sometimes they go sour. This could have been a series of misunderstandings, mistakes, communication errors, unfortunate events, what have you. I don’t know what’s going on in their lives. These are things that happened, and they will affect who I do business with going forward, but I don’t assume that these are bad people. I don’t think I could encourage anyone to have a business relationship with this company and these people, but if you want to have a beer with them, I’m sure they’re very nice.)

They’re Just Jealous

Request: hello, can you do a imagine where the reader is Peter Parker’s sister and she’s sad because people think she’s weird and peter tries to comfort her? :)

Warnings: None.

Originally posted by dailymcugifs

Y/N Parker’s first day of high school didn’t quite go the way she wanted it to.She wasn’t even a full year younger, but since her birthday was in October, she was pushed a year behind her brother.

“You’re awfully quiet.” Peter looked at his sister on the way to school.

“Huh, what?” She looked up quickly. He smirked and shook his head, signaling the end of the conversation. She shrugged, “I guess I’m just… Nervous.”

“You’ll do fine.” He put his hand on her shoulder.

She smiled and nodded.

Y/N admired her brother, a lot. He was always there to help her. Aunt May was great, but Peter and Y/N had a special bond. Which was why she was so surprised to find out that he wasn’t very popular. In fact, he was the opposite of popular.
What Y/N didn’t expect, was Peter’s unpopularity to rub off on her.
.
She heard whispers from fellow classmates when she walked by, she huffed and tried to rub it off.

“Okay.” Peter looked at her. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

She nodded and put on a fake smile. She thought she had him fooled. But Peter wasn’t easily convinced.

The day went by slowly, and Y/N continued to listen to her classmates speak of her as though she wasn’t there.

“Hi!” She waved to a group of girls that looked nice, and had an empty spot at their table. The girls quickly stopped smiling, pushing a tray of food into the empty place.

Y/N took a deep breath and walked away.
.
“I’m worried about Y/N.” Peter looked at Ned.

“Why?” He shrugged at him. “She seemed fine.”

“Yeah, but did you see those girls that just, like, basically just told her to get lost?”

Ned shrugged again, poking his green beans with a fork.

“Y/N?” Peter called to a sad looking Y/N, who was speed walking into the hall.

“Y/N?” he repeated himself louder, standing up when she didn’t answer.

Y/N jumped when she felt Someone grab her arm. “What?!” She said, trying to cover up the tears that were threatening to spill. “Go away Peter.” She looked down.

“No,” He raised his eyebrows at her. “Don’t let those girls get to you. They’re so mean!”

“I just- half the school said I was weird today, and I have no idea why. I mean, I thought I was… Pretty…. Normal.” She smiled slightly.

“Y/N, seriously. They’re just jealous.”

“Of what?” She gestured to herself.

Peter looked like he was going to explode. “Because!” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her, making her giggle.

“Well for one, you’re like; really smart.”

“Haha, yeah right.” Y/N interrupted.

“Seriously Y/N! And you’re like a hundred times prettier than any other girl here.”
She blushed, looking at her feet.

And you’ve got, like, an amazing brother. So, I’m pretty sure people are pretty jealous about that.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Y/N rolled her eyes and punched his shoulder.

“Okay.” She gave in.

“Why don’t you eat with Ned and me. He got a new Lego death star!”

Y/N rolled her eyes once more. “Alright,”


July/10/2017


Tags,

@wannabe-weasley, @flowerprincessofcryptids, @ 8181pjh

4

{19.01.2017 - 03/100 of productivity}
Today I got a lot done and finished everything earlier than I planned yaaay!🙌🏻 but I have to admit, I wish I had done more😫 this year is going to be super busy for me since I have a major exam to do around october/november, and every bit of time is precious but yeah. Here are some lit(erature) notes and homework, also got to study a bit of bio and math, and finish some physics notes🙌🏻 Also, this is my current read “Revival” by the one and the only Stephen King✨ Have a great day😙

Clap of Thunder, Usnavi de la Vega x Reader

Prompt:  Hi there ! I know it’s not really a prompt but could you do a usnavi x reader soulmate au ?

Word-count: 1,933 (Woo, boy I was cutting it close.)

Warnings: Like, maybe one curse word? I think? Also, angst. The dark blue, silkier kind. 

Note: Lol I’m not at a hundred, although I’m supposed to post this when I reach a hundred. I couldn’t wait. 

This stuff is angsty, I gotta warn you now. It has a happy ending, don’t worry, but don’t expect the regular sunny Usnavi (this functions a bit as a character study in that regard). Hope you enjoy the trash! 

P.S.: I referenced a fic on ao3 for the mantra, thought I would put it out there!


When it all came down to it, Usnavi was practical.

See, people would say differently; his own childish idealism when it came to the distant seas and golden, sun-drenched beaches of his homeland would contrast sharply with his own self-proclamations of pragmatism. But Usnavi rejects the notion that human beings were capable of being either one thing or the other, so he stands in the middle, comfortable if a little tense at times.

(He’d risked the thought that maybe they couldn’t take him all that seriously when he was recklessly awkward and sometimes too sunny, and also a little bit irritating at times. It would fit in with their assumption.) (And not to mention, he was all of those things. But it also happened that he was all of those things and more.)  

If anything, he would say that his pragmatism stemmed from the stiff, black-and-white nature of how he saw things. Quite literally. It was almost ironic, how he could compose soliloquies and sonnets about the beauty of the Dominican Republic (in that he was sure of, never mind the fact that he actually didn’t know what gold or sea foam or crystalline looked like) and the only things he could see on a day to day basis were the endless swatches of gray and coal and white.

He didn’t know which one of his parents bore the deficit, or maybe if it was perhaps both of them, because Abuela Claudia didn’t know, and all the keepsakes his parents had passed on was given to Abuela to filter.

And as much as he liked to believe in the power of things like love and honest goodness and (the reason for his own predicament) soulmates, when you are robbed by loss at such a young age, it’s hard not to keep a reminder around just in case you start selling yourself too hard to whimsical fantasies:

There is more to life than love. There is more to love than joy.

Usnavi kept that reminder close to his chest, and soon it was routine to mutter it to himself, as routine as wiping down the counters of his bodega, as routine as smiling at Vanessa and scolding Sonny as he was, once again, late.

There is more to life than love. There is more to love than joy.


Benny ran to him first when he started seeing color, and Usnavi couldn’t help it, he felt a stab of envy he couldn’t tap down quick enough.

“I see green, man.” Benny breathed, in awe. “And it’s more beautiful than I thought it was going to be.”

“Really?” He couldn’t keep the straight wonder out of his voice.

“It’s almost alive, man. It’s practically breathing.”

“That’s amazing, Benny.” he said, patting his friend on the back. The man barely noticed him, still looking at the overarching planes of grass that stretched before them in the form of Central Park. They were all still varying shades of gray to Usnavi, but undoubtedly they were lush, exuberant hills to Benny now. He took the mantra out of his chest and started again.

There is more to life than love. There is more to love than joy.

Soon enough, the reason for Benny being able to see color was evident in the reappearance of Nina a few weeks later, looking more stressed than anything else but also looking around with wide eyes. She was seeing blue for the first time. On that very same day, their eyes met on the Rosario family dispatch and the burst of color was powerful enough to have them bowl over.


Usnavi wasn’t sure about too many things, but he was sure that he loved Vanessa. Never mind that he’d looked into her eyes and sure enough, he wasn’t able to see color the next second, but at that point, he was used to (and almost content with) living in a monochromatic world, and if he couldn’t have color, he would have Vanessa.

(She ended up finding her soulmate in her next-door neighbor in her new building, a girl named Georgia who owned three cats and had “the nicest pair of eyes I’ve ever seen”, according to Vanessa. Usnavi handled the news, her pitying gaze, with a grain of salt, and the typical repetition:

There is more to life than love. There is more to love than joy.)


He was on his way home from the bodega when it happened.

He had dropped something, a bag of groceries, and he had sighed, looked at the mess and bent down to pick up all that had fallen. He had put away the last carton of milk and was stretching back up to his normal height, but a flash of something stopped him.

The fire hydrant.

Usnavi had to rub at his eyes. There was no way. No.

He waited for the blur in his vision to fade (he had rubbed quite hard) and fixed his gaze on the fire hydrant again. There was no questioning it.

The fire hydrant was no longer gray.

It was angry, and hot, and colored so vividly it stabbed at his eyes. Red, he realized.

How much time he spent staring at that fire hydrant, he didn’t know. It was only when the brilliant light of the sun began to fade that he looked up. God.

There was so much to see.

It was in the middle of October, and almost everything was rendered into differing, varying shades of red. Usnavi stood there for what felt like forever, taking it all in. He recalled what Benny said to him about green.

It’s almost alive, man. It’s practically breathing.”

Perhaps it could apply to others?

He finally started moving, his hands going to his face and feeling a slight jolt at the wetness he found on his cheeks. With a great sniff, he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his shirt and departed to his apartment. He had a hell of a lot to tell Sonny.


There was apparently a new girl in town. Usnavi would be more curious about her if she wasn’t moving into Vanessa’s old apartment. (It was still a relatively fresh wound, and even if the telltale sign that his soulmate was near was literally right before his eyes, he had loved Vanessa, and that mattered.)

Sonny had delivered the news to him as he walked in the bodega one morning, as late as he ever was. He had talked to her, because he was Sonny and that was what he did.

“Really pretty,” Sonny said, hopping onto the counter Usnavi just wiped. “Really friendly. Also, single.”

Usnavi rolled his eyes. “I’ll consider it then,” he said, not really meaning it.

The next day however, he was at the doorstep of the aforementioned new girl, holding a cup of coffee and a pastry, hoping to be some kind of welcome wagon. He pressed the buzzer multiple times but to no avail. Instead, he dropped off the to-go cup and the pastry (it was in a bag anyway,) on the doormat.

He looked at the cup again, thinking. Before he could second-guess himself, he picked it back up, fumbled for the Sharpie he always kept in his pocket, and scrawled on the cup:

Hi there!

Consider this a Welcome to the Neighborhood gift.

From:
The bodega across the street
.

He walked back, waving to anyone who stopped and said hello. The bell above the door tinkled as he made his entrance.

Sonny’s head popped up from behind the counter.

“Any luck?”

Usnavi shook his head. Sonny bit down on his bottom lip, but did not press the issue.

He’s only been seeing red recently. Benny said that he was supposed to be seeing more by now. Usnavi paid it no mind. The old mantra was still being put to use, although it was starting to rust a little.

There is more to life than love. There is more to love than joy.


He heard you before he saw you.

“Yeah, hi, is this, um, ‘the bodega across the street’? Okay, wow that was dumb. It’s just that, um, someone left coffee and a donut on my doorstep and it said it was from the bodega across the street and I checked and this was the bodega across the street and anyway—“

“Yes, we are indeed the, uh, ‘bodega across the street’.” Sonny said, amused. “Excuse the mystery, my cousin wrote that on your cup.”

“Oh.” There was a pause. “Can you tell your cousin ‘Thank you’? He didn’t have to do that, and it was honestly really nice that he did.”

Usnavi, all the while, was making another cup of coffee completely identical to the one he left on the doormat. He couldn’t understand what suddenly came over him, but he had heard you, and you sounded lovely, and all he knew was that he wanted to hear more. He was hastily pouring on foam when he heard Sonny say:

“Will that be all?”

“Yeah, that’d be all.”

Without thinking, he burst out of the back of the shop.

“Wait!”

Sonny was smirking, and the cash register was open, the money already half-way into it, but his eyes sought out yours.

It was as sudden as a clap of thunder.

One minute, all was as it normally was, if for the stray shocks of red that stood out from the bleak backdrop of gray and black and white he was for so long accustomed to. He had so long settled himself into that world, had so long contented himself to that world completely devoid of color save for a scant handful. He had convinced himself, after all, that things like the promise of soulmates were seductive but seemed more distant than the Dominican Republic ever was. He had made peace with that didn’t he?

What was that old epithet he had attached to his heart the minute he understood that things like love and honest goodness and soulmates had the potential to turn on you as easily as they could welcome you with open arms?

“It’s you,”

And then the curse is broken, and he is looking at you, and the world is awash with life and renewed and reborn, and you are at the very center of it, with your eyes and your hair and your skin.

He stepped forward, slipped, because he had dropped the coffee the minute his eyes met yours and also because he is Usnavi and this kind of shit always happened. Sonny caught him around the waist and hauled him up, and when he felt himself stable enough, he planted his hands on the counter for extra leverage, and looked at you again.

There were tears in your (wonderful, wonderful) eyes as you looked back at him, and you were shaky on your feet (although you were certainly much more balanced than he was).

“It’s you,” you said. He nodded, trying to get rid of the molasses sticking the sides of his throat together.

He stuck his hand out, remembering to pass it along his pant leg to take off the sheen of cold sweat, cleared his throat. “Usnavi,” he said.

Your smile was bright, as bright as the yellow dress you wore. “Y/N,” you said, your hand slipping into his and a shock of pure, undiluted fire passed through him.

The laugh of absolute jubilation that escaped him was as irrepressible as the tears streaming down his face.

“Wonderful,” he said, ignoring Sonny and hopping over the counter. He grabbed your other hand.

Wonderful,”