shiny glasses

The sun signs as I've experienced them

Aries- one more round of shots. Running over a bridge at sunrise. Fighting with people you love, 60′s mod clothes and bloody knuckles, hugs with tears in your eyes and short hair blowing in the breeze. Making you feel like you’re in an exclusive clique. 

Taurus- warm hugs and blankets. A feeling of belonging. Two types- the ones who slay at life and are everyone’s older sibling and the ones who are complete diamonds in the rough. Chocolate and kisses on your cheek that leave perfect lipstick marks. Little boxes full of memories. Subtle perfume that makes you calmer. 

Pisces- stargazing, lullabies and heartbreak. Poems that you think of at 3am. Acoustic guitars. John green novels. Origami and shy giggles. The most open conversations that make you see new beauty in the world. Sighing when you’re lost for words. 

Leo- crushing like you’re in middle school. Laughing until your ribs ache and your nose runs. Camaraderie, perfectly rolled cigarettes and lungs full of pride. Sitting on someone’s lap and feeling comfy there. Bringing a subtle gold glow of happiness to the room. Secret handshakes and in-jokes. 

Capricorn- the type of rare people I don’t get to be friends with but wish I was. Knee high socks and the freshly mown grass of a school running track. bubblemint chewing gum and soft k-pop ballads on a sunny morning. Box braided hair and constellation freckles. 

Libra- having your hair played with. Bags full of things people always need. Singing along to the car radio loudly and with all the wrong lyrics. Never knowing what to say but always being there when things are rough. Soft jumpers and smiling with one corner of your mouth. 

Virgo- always running a hand through your hair when you see a mirror. Having a system for all your things that nobody gets. New book smell and bear hugs. Tears that come from nowhere. The feeling of getting the best view at the concert. 

Cancer- pinkie promises and taking polaroids. Biting nails and fretting the small things. Friends that feel like family. The feeling of sand between your toes and staying up all night talking. Blanket forts and feeling frustrated. Celebrating the best in people. 

Sagittarius- the thump in your chest when you see someone beautiful. Tears that sting your eyes and turn them red. Friends to the end, even when you change and grow. Second chances, driving with the windows down at night with your anthems playing. Muttering under your breath in your first language.

Gemini- fixing your computer in exchange for home cooking. Whispers during drinking games and being told what you don’t always want to hear. Spooning with friends. Shiny glasses, worn dance shoes and carpooling with your best friends. Feeling inadequate. Jumping on beds and sharing secrets. 

Scorpio- the feeling of arriving right as the train does. Marble floors and soothing incense. Wishing your friends lived closer. Getting ready for a party and dancing around the room. Being wild beyond measure but always staying safe. Taking naps with people you love. 

Aquarius- people watching over coffee. Interlocking fingers and pastel coloured post it notes. Comfy bean bags in libraries with fascinating rare books. Softly tracing skin. Stern looks and lip biting. Not getting the joke the first time round. Drowning out the world with headphones.

WHAT ARE THE SIGNS MADE OF?

Aries:
The PASSION of a five year old that really wants to steal a cookie out of the cookie jar.
The CHARISMA of a potato. A charismatic potato.
The INTENSITY of an earthquake, rocking your world and your house since before years were a thing.

Taurus:
The STUBBORNNESS of a child that refuses to eat their broccoli and will cry until their parents let them leave the dinner table.
The COMPLEXITY of doing algebra problems without a calculator.
THE DEPENDABLENESS of that one friend who always tries their best to not let you or anyone else down.

Gemini:
The IMPLUSIVENESS of a middle schooler’s first kiss.
The FLEXIBILITY of a professional gymnast, constantly flipping and turning 360 degrees at a time.
The TALKATIVENESS of a child who just learned how to talk. You want to ignore them, but you can’t because they’re just so gosh darn cute. 

Cancer:
The CARE a teenager has towards their new phone for the first week of owning it.
The PASSIVENESS of someone who is always unaware of their surroundings, but for some reason always knows what’s happening around them.
The GENTLENESS of a shiny glass cup, one mistake and they can be broken right before your eyes.

Leo:
The DRAMATICNESS of an episode of pretty much every teen drama that has been on the air for way too long.
The EGO of celebrities, always inflated and is constantly validated by others, either negatively or positively.
The GENEROSITY of a teacher that decides to give the class another day to work on a tough homework assignment. 

Virgo:
The PERFECTION of opening a new book and smelling that new book smell.
The INDEPENDENCE of a tall and beautiful flower blooming in field full of dull grass and dirt.
The CRITICALNESS of a Gordon Ramsay that spends his life roasting people on twitter.

Libra:
The CHARISMA that Aries wishes they could have and 34 shades of more charisma on top of that. Loads of charisma.
The INDECISIVENESS of someone who really wants to text someone that they like, but doesn’t want to come across as desperate.
The PEACEFULNESS of feeling that everything is okay in life and being able to finally get a good night’s sleep.

Scorpio:
The EVILNESS of a villain that just wants to be understood in this complicated world.
The PARANOIA of someone that’s been hurt way too many times in another life and just came out the womb guarded.
The WIT of someone who just mastered the art of sarcasm and refuses to talk any other way.

Sagittarius:
The CURIOSITY of a child wanting to know where babies come from and will not stop until they get answer.
The HONESTY of a mom that always wants to make sure that her children look as good as she does when leaving the house.
The INTERESTINGNESS of that one strange toy from 5 years ago that you found while cleaning your room the other day.

Capricorn:
The AMBITION of a grandmother making food for her starving grandchildren on a Sunday afternoon.
The MATURITY of an adult who finally understands the concept of adulting and is pretty gosh darn good job at it.
The INTELLIGENCE of Einstein, but it may not always be used. Trust me though, it’s there. 

Aquarius:
The STRANGENESS of your cousin that everyone thought was going to be successful, but is now a professional hipster.
The REBELLIOUSNESS of a suburban teen who just discovered rap music times one hundred.
The DETACHEDNESS of someone who has not been able to find someone that they can fully trust yet.

Pisces:
The CREATIVITY of doubt and security dancing together in a flame of inspiration.
The INTUITIVENESS of a good friend that always knows when you’re upset and how to cheer you up.
The COMPASSION of sweet child who just wants to make sure that everyone around them is happy.

boy group aesthetics
  • exo: shiny stuff, glass vases, sky high
  • bts: fire hydrants, not voting, kate kane
  • shinee: white birch trees, revamping old abandoned buildings, musicals
  • monsta x: sledgehammers, teeth, secretly preferring dnce to the jonas brothers
  • super junior: dress shoes, cool teachers, being out of milk
  • seventeen: 2000s disney channel movies, pop art, good puns
  • got7: watercolors, dogs drinking out of puddles, loose change
  • day6: life is good shirts, happy vibes, your coworker's significant other not remembering who you are
  • astro: bad puns, liking cats and dogs equally, father & son improv groups
  • vixx: the vampire diaries, belts, instagram
What The Signs Are Made Of?

Aries:
The PASSION of a five year old that really wants to steal a cookie out of the cookie jar.
The CHARISMA of a potato. A charismatic potato.
The INTENSITY of an earthquake, rocking your world and your house since before years were a thing.

Taurus:
The STUBBORNNESS of a child that refuses to eat their broccoli and will cry until their parents let them leave the dinner table.
The COMPLEXITY of doing algebra problems without a calculator.
THE DEPENDABLENESS of that one friend who always tries their best to not let you or anyone else down.

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Creepypasta #1099: My Late Nana Loved Telling The Story Of How Her Father Saved Their Village From Monsters

Length: Medium

Nana used to tell me stories when I was little. I stayed with her during the day while my parents were at work, all the way up until I went to kindergarten. I would sit at her kitchen table, happily munching away on a braunschweiger sandwich, kicking my legs that couldn’t touch the floor yet and beg her for more stories, more stories, more stories.

She had so many, but she had one in particular she told more than the others. I don’t know if it was her favorite, or mine, or both. It may have been my favorite because I could tell it was hers.

~~

Many little girls don’t know how lucky they are. Never fall victim to that way of thinking, little sparrow. I knew how lucky I was. I had my Papa.

My Papa was a good man, a strong man. My Papa was a hero, and not just in the way that a lot of daughters think their fathers are. He was a real hero.

You see, little sparrow, before I came to America, I lived in a village. It had once been small but slowly grew to a bustling, thriving place full of life and magic. I can still remember the lovely buildings, the flow of people in the streets, the pretty storefronts with their shiny glass windows. It was a beautiful place and I knew how lucky I was to live there with my Papa because my Papa protected us.

Not just my mother and I, he protected the whole village. He was a hero, as I said. Even though I loved our home, it was not always a safe place.

You see, in our village, there were monsters.

Now I don’t want to scare you, little sparrow, but do not believe the people who tell you monsters aren’t real. Monsters are very real, they are alive and well, and they often hide in plain sight.

That’s what made my Papa a hero. He could spot these monsters, find them lurking beneath their disguises of pink human skin. They seemed good enough, normal enough, but he knew how to identify them and he taught me too.

Keep reading

3

Roof cladding update: a work in progress.

Our roof is now almost totally cladded, with just a few finishing pieces needed around the edges. Our low-energy LED lights are lighting up our home and the pine coloured wood makes everything feel warm and cosy inside. We also can’t stop admiring our shiny new porthole and the shiny new piece of glass where our broken window used to be.

If only the van was back on the road again, we’d be spending nights by the fire under the stars on the wild coast of Cornwall. Instead the van is sitting in her naughty corner in the driveway awaiting further MOT repairs. She’s been off the road for nearly a month now because the computer at the garage considers our brakes “underpowered”, never mind the fact we’ve been up and down mountain roads for the last 7 months. All the parts have been replaced, we’re just awaiting our new secondhand master cylinder and fingers crossed that’ll be the end to our problems.


Follow the hashtag #Fromrusttoroadtrip to follow our van conversion project and our travels around Europe! 🌍 

candles

(this is for sen she killed me)


It is summer. Outside the inn, the cicadas have quieted and it’s the crickets that take over, white noise, white music, lulling the boys to sleep. The breaths of heavy sleep can be heard alongside the whir of the fan passing over the room. It smells of tatami mats and Kaminari’s feet, one foot poking Bakugou’s upper arm. His snores sound like whines, just irritating enough that Bakugou’s resting face is that of a scowl.

He considers shoving Kaminari, or more likely, kicking him, but that would require moving, and all four limbs are distant from Bakugou, heavy as concrete and unmovable as the komainu guards that stood outside the inn. He should be sleeping. He needs to be sleeping. Tomorrow, the training camp begins.

Still, there’s the expectant air of something about to happen–the moment before a match is lit, a breath held in until lungs burst, a pause of silence between songs. The room is scattered with pillows and blankets from a pillow fight two hours ago, and the room is heavy with a sense of contentment, apparent in the way Tokoyami cocoons himself in his blanket and Midoriya rests a hand on Iida’s chest. Shouji’s arms splayed out wide and Aoyama with his eyemask on.

Bakugou is wired–restless energy from the pillow fight? Fresh, summer air? Or the tension of training camps past, of being stolen away by villains in the dark.

Bakugou sits up, cards his fingers through his hair.

There’s a beat of silence, and then, “You’re awake?”

Todoroki’s voice is barely above a whisper, dream-like and soft, volume concealed by the sound of the fan. A breeze passes over Bakugou, making his hair flutter. Two sleepers over, Todoroki’s hair ruffles, too. He sits up.

“Go to sleep, idiot,” Bakugou hisses. “I’m not staying up.”

“You feel it, too.”

Bakugou holds his breath. He lets out a louder sigh than he intends. Lying back down, he turns his back on Todoroki. “Doesn’t matter. Night.”

The hair on the back of his neck prickles. He hears the telltale sound of a comforter being pushed back and the gentle thumping of movement across the mats.

If I close my eyes and go to sleep, he will go away, Bakugou thinks.

He manages to ignore Todoroki for a grand total of three minutes before he shoves back his own comforter and sits up, teeth pulled away from his gums. “What.”

Todoroki is sitting seiza at the foot of his bed. “You’re awake,” he says.

“‘Cause I can feel you breathing down my neck, shitstick. Take a hike and get out of my bed.

“We should welcome in summer together,” Todoroki says.

“Do you actually ever listen to people?” Bakugou asks.

“I used to do it with my sister,” he says. “I’m too restless to go to sleep. So are you.”

“I’ll have you know I love sleeping,” Bakugou says. “Get tucked in real fucking tight, snug as bug in his own fucking rug, away from creepy sleep-watchers and their weird-ass ideas.”

“You feel it,” Todoroki says. “Katsuki.”

Bakugou’s breath catches. “I told you not to–even if it’s dire–”

Todoroki holds up one finger, and a tiny flame lights from the end of it. Bakugou flinches. The candlelight reflects in Todoroki’s odd-colored eyes, shiny as glass. It lights a dull glow across molten, scarred skin, bumpy and rough-around-the-edges as the scar’s owner. It casts a shadow across the shape of Todoroki’s mouth, just too close to not-not-smiling to make it hard to look at him.

“Fine,” Bakugou says.

“Repeat after me,” Todoroki says. “Welcome, cicadas.”

“Welcome, cicadas,” Bakugou mutters.

“Welcome, crickets.”

“Welcome–this is so fucking stupid.”

“Just do it.”

A grunt. “Welcome, crickets.”

“Welcome, fireflies.”

“Welcome, fireflies.”

“Welcome, watermelons.”

“Welcome, watermelons.”

“Welcome, sunburn.”

“Welcome, sunb–you’re fucking with me. You’re actually just fucking with me. Is this even a family tradition?”

Todoroki really smiles now, one edge of his mouth turning up and his eyes crinkling. Bakugou moves his glare from Todoroki’s face to the fire at the tip of his finger.

Suddenly, the light goes out.

“Wh–” Bakugou starts.

“We have to seal it,” Todoroki says. “Seal the welcome.” His voice is much, much softer. Bakugou leans forward a little to catch his words.

“Seal it? How? Wait, why the fuck do I care? It’s bull–” Todoroki’s fingers feather along Bakugou’s jaw and he jerks away upon contact, heart racing. Todoroki’s hands hover in the no man’s land between their bodies for a moment. When he moves forward again, leaning forward on his knees, Bakugou doesn’t move. His fingers settle along Bakugou’s cheekbones, pinkies curling under his chin. The callouses on his fingers make Bakugou’s skin tingle. They’re not soft hands, but the hands of a hero and a hard-worker–someone who poured blood, sweat, and tears into his craft.

Through the moonlight that seeps into the room, Bakugou can make out the smile on Todoroki’s face. “We seal it with a kiss.”

Bakugou’s heart stutters. He scowls. He didn’t remember giving it permission to do that.

He feels Todoroki’s exhale as he breathes out. “Kiss me, Katsuki,” Todoroki says.

Bakugou’s hand has found its way to his shirt, clutching at the material over his chest. He doesn’t remember telling it to do that, either. “This is stupid,” he mutters. “This is stupid, you’re stupid, this whole thing is,” he takes a breath, “fucking stupid.”

Todoroki presses his forehead to Bakugou’s, their noses brushing. “Kiss me, Katsuki,” he says again. And then, “Please.”

Shut up, shut up, shut up, Bakugou thinks, and he pecks Todoroki on the mouth lightning quick.

“There,” he says. “Sealed.”

“Okay,” Todoroki says.

“It’s just for your stupid summer tradition,” Bakugou says. “That’s all.”

“Okay.”

“Which is still bullshit, by the way.”

“Okay.”

“And it doesn’t mean anything, so don’t go telling Deku about…whatever.”

“Okay.”

“And–” Bakugou says, but the words are slipping from his mind because Todoroki’s thumb is on his bottom lip and he can feel the puff of Todoroki’s breath not even an inch from his mouth and Todoroki’s eyes are half-lidded, and it’s all just very warm, and without really giving it much thought, he’s kissing Todoroki.

Todoroki’s fingers are rough but his mouth is soft, none of the sharp words he wields when he picks fights with Bakugou, a choice insult thrown in like a dagger to the side, no, this–this is the smile he wears when he’s helpful to a classmate, the brush of his hair against Bakugou’s palm when he swipes at him while dueling, the press of his cheek on Bakugou’s shoulder when he falls asleep on him on the train.

This is I know you and I have yet to know you and I want to know you, the questioning tilt of Todoroki’s head and the suggestion of tongue. They don’t French but they do kiss, the sound sweet as a cricket’s song when they part. Bakugou thinks he’s in a fever dream, even though the height of summer has yet to arrive and the fan still blows cool air across them every now and then. He feels that if he stops kissing Todoroki he will wake up and it will have never happened.

When Todoroki parts from him, he whispers, “Welcome, summer.”

Bakugou whispers, “Welcome, summer.”