that-ladder

anonymous asked:

Hey uh what's your least YOI character? (If you have one at least)

((As people,, all of them are cool but from an actual character standpoint I would say probably Otabek? Like he’s just kinda.. thrown in there for the last 3 eps and is used as ladder for Yurio’s character development and we learn like nothing about him? Even in his routine he only thinks about Yurio. There wasn’t any build up to his character so he didn’t present as a threat to any of the competitors like JJ either. Idk, I dont HATE Otabek but I feel like his character should have been handled differently.))

EDIT:

((I would also like to point out that this is the most hideous costume I have ever seen it looks like a child drew a treasure map and threw some glitter on it this is so offensive to my eyes))

shiro ref! 🍃

♡ jacob’s ladder
♡ cucumber pack
this outfit
♡ white-lace socks
♡ green polka pumps

info! 🍵

♡ cheerful, optimistic, a little shy, protective, generous
♡ likes tea, early morning, plants, gardening, wind chimes, & stationary
♡ admires ursala
♡ talks and sings to her plants every day
♡ often sits near cliffsides and day dreams
♡ windy weather is her favorite
♡ wishes everyone happiness and peace
♡ likes to make friendship bracelets and charms

anonymous asked:

After a year in retail, I had my first encounter with a pervy old man. Our bathrooms are locked, so I had to open it, and he jokes "can you follow me in there too". The bathrooms are in a hallway which has the roof access ladder, and the old guy looks at the ladder, then at me, and says "if you were wearing a dress I'd ask you to climb that". Sooo my question is, is there anything I can do besides awkwardly laugh and try to ignore the gross comments while still giving good customer service?

I’d smile and say “Good thing I’m not wearing a dress”  while smiling that same customer service smile then walk away. -Abby

Bitter/Sweet [1/1]

Baby ficlet for Fantasy Pretzel Week day 6! Rated T. Fluff and Smee. 1.3k.

Day Six: Prompt: Coffee Shop trope in the Enchanted Forest.

“Are you entirely sure about this?”

Emma wavers at the top of the ladder, and grunts her assent through a mouth full of nails as she lines up the hammer for another go.

“I mean, coffee. It doesn’t even sound tasty.”

Rolling her eyes, she spits the remaining nails into her hand and looks down at where her so-called friend is holding the rickety ladder steady, her brow furrowed.

“Trust me on this, Mary Margaret. It’s going to be huge.”

There’s a burst of laughter from the building to their right as the door swings open, and both women turn to look as a man stagger out into the street, slightly the worse for drink going by the way he sways towards them.

“What’s this then?” he slurs, pausing next to Mary Margaret and squinting up at the sign Emma’s just nailed in place. “Robin got competition has he?”

“Depends,” Emma says, eyeing the man’s disheveled appearance and long leather duster distrustfully. “Don’t know if I want his clientele.”

She expects the man to reel back at that - spit on the ground and walk away, in the time honored tradition of all the men she’s shot down - but instead he sways a little closer, peering at her shrewdly from beneath expressive black brows.

“I’ll wager you’ll find out,” he says, and drops into a ridiculous bow that has Mary Margaret blushing. “Best of luck, ladies. I suspect you might need it.”

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Fic: Well-Fitted

@shipperqueen93 prompted: “Rumbelle: He didn’t magic belle new clothes, he made them himself, which required him to take her measurements. Awkward dark castle fun!”

I’m so sorry this took so long!

Well, this did absolutely not go in the direction that I thought it would when I first got the prompt. I’m not quite sure where my mind went, and I really hope you don’t mind that this ended up a little bit… naughtier than I first foresaw. It’s just that I got thinking about the kind of underwear Belle would have on beneath her first gold gown and things escalated from there…

Rated: M

=====

Well-Fitted

Rumpel has to admit that it simply can’t go on like this. Something’s got to be done. Not only is the image of his maid cleaning the castle in a ball gown utterly ridiculous, the gown itself is also looking incredibly worse for wear now, its hem tattered and torn from sweeping and clambering up and down ladders, and he doesn’t want any visitors to think he keeps her in rags for any kind of… insalubrious reason. Truth be told, he simply hadn’t thought about the logistics of having another person in the castle. He has his own ever-expanding wardrobe, but he didn’t exactly give Belle time to pack a bag when he took her away from her father’s castle. He’s been surreptitiously cleaning the dress with magic so that she doesn’t have to wear the same thing day in day out without any chance of laundering it, but at the same time, it really isn’t the most practical of outfits and the time has come for him to do something about it.

She is going to need some new clothes, that’s clear enough, but the fact remains that he has already expended too much magic on cleaning her limited wardrobe already, and if he’s going to get her anything else, it must be done by hand. He’s not in the habit of buying clothing at markets himself, and he does not yet trust his little maid not to make a run for it if he lets her go down into the town herself to pick out fabrics. He has plenty of good, strong cottons and linens left over in his stores from previous projects, and it would be easy enough to make something for her from those fabrics, things that would last longer than the silk and satin she wears at the moment. The only problem that he can see will be getting the sizes right.

There’s only one thing for it. He’s going to have to take her measurements. The only other way he can think of is to steal her golden gown and deconstruct it to use the pattern, but he feels that might be fraught with danger as not only would it entail sneaking into her room, it would also require him to take the thing apart and reassemble it within the space of a single night, and although he’s very good with a needle even if he does say so himself, Rumpel usually needs a little bit more time than that.

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“I used to like walking through the woods on a nice spring morning, Stibbons. You mean to say the trees were at it like knives the whole time?”
Ponder’s horticultural knowledge found itself a little exhausted at this point. He tried to remember what he could about his uncle, who’d spend most of his life up a ladder.
“I, er, think camel-hair brushes are sometimes involved–” he began, but Ridcully’s expression told him that this wasn’t a welcome fact.

– Ponder gives the senior faculty The Talk | Terry Pratchett, The Last Continent

80slater  asked:

black for the stonathan color thing

(I made this kinda sad, oops….)

Jonathan’s shoes are a bright contrast to the dark pavement, to the dark night. For years he’d go out on nightly treks through the woods, through the streets, wandering aimlessly to just simply be alone with his thoughts. These thoughts used to scare him, at a young age he thought all sorts of terrible things and even now they sometimes plagued him.

Nasty ideas and images rolled through his mind like the film of a movie, he couldn’t stop them, he didn’t know how. They just happened, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

Before it all, there was nothing to walk to, no specific point to reach. But now he did have something, rather someone.

He heads around to the back of the house and grabs the ladder near the pool shed, hoping that he doesn’t wake Steve’s parents. He knew it was stupid and immature to do things like this, but Steve always put him first and he knew the young man wouldn’t mind the company.

He climbs up the ladder quietly, and when he reaches the window, he knocks softly. He squints through the glass and into the pitch black room, watches a lump on the bed roll over before a figure sits up with a familiar rat’s nest of messy hair. Steve’s lithe and almost fully nude body slips out of bed to open the window, his eyes are squinted tiredly but Jonathan can still see the worry in them.

“What’s up?” He grabs onto Jonathan’s shirt as he climbs through the window, just to make sure he doesn’t fall. Jonathan shrugs and shakes his head, a prerequisite that that had somehow silently agreed on months before. “Come here,” The young man whispers, pulling him close and hugging him tight.

Jonathan blinks as he stares at the dark wall across the room, eyes burning with unshed tears and throat bricked up with emotion. He sniffles a little and a tear drips down his face that he quickly wipes away, he places his hands hesitantly on Steve’s back.

“All right, Byers. Into bed.” Steve instructs quietly, leaning back to slip Jonathan’s jacket off of him and settle it on his desk. Jonathan strips his shoes and jeans before following Steve to bed. He wasn’t sure why they did this, or what reason he had to go to Steve goddamn Harrington for comfort, but he did. He went to Steve and the young man never judged him, never batted an eyelash at Jonathan’s unfathomable sadness or his uncontrollable emotions.

But laying in the safety of Steve’s bed, the pitch black surrounding them in quiet and peace, things didn’t seem so heavy and horrible. With Steve’s legs against his and their fingers twined loosely together, he didn’t feel like he had to deal with this alone.

“Night, Jonny.” Steve tells him with a yawn, and he doesn’t press for a response, simply buries his face further into his pillow. Jonathan sighs and closes his eyes, his bad thoughts not gone but lessened just enough for him to be able to drift off.