the always summer project


god, amethyst’s expressions are so subtle here, and still so telling.

because while shapeshifting is a sore point and an insult to peridot, it’s a vital coping mechanism for amethyst

she’s constantly shapeshifting because she isn’t comfortable in her own body. and i don’t think she’s ever completely been. that there’s always been something that just felt wrong

i think that’s where her purple puma persona came from originally. just experimenting with and then accidentally hitting a form close to her “intended” one.  she couldn’t keep it up forever, but she still noticed that she was happier in that form, that it felt right in a way her normal body didn’t. and most of all, that she was happy when she used that form to fight

she just didn’t know how, or why, until peridot waltzed into her life, revealed something about amethyst that the other gems had kept hidden from her for millennia

and since then, well,

yeah i think the idea of being bigger has been a constant in amethyst’s mind.

(but what about shorty squad then? that’s a very good question that i’ll get to later! hopefully this month)

  • Me: Huh, Miles, Larry and Phoenix met in Spring. They only knew each other for four months max before DL6 tore them apart. Kinda odd, but okay.
  • Me: *sees no problem with this*
  • ...

@ciil‘s hella(aa) attractive OC, Noah.


A short comic summarizing the story of Princess!Frisk~

Credits under the cut~

Keep reading

awkward-bangtan  asked:

I just read below thunder showers and I'm more in awe of your talent than ever. It shows that a story doesn't have to fit in with the standard fanfic "guidelines" to be a masterpiece, it's a work of art and the characterisation is amazing and so well thought out. The universe you created was so immersive and atmospheric and once again, nostalgic and other-worldly. I can't wait to read your summer projects >~<

;^; you are always so sweet to me, and it means so much that you read below thunder showers, really!! thank you for enjoying it, I poured my heart out into this story and I am very proud of it, so it makes me immensely happy to read this kind of feedback about it. thank you again!! this made my day :D


I feel like I may have already sent you this request, but if not, could you please do an imagine where MGG and the reader are married, but are fighting a lot and kind of drifting apart. They go to marriage counseling, realize how much they still love each other, and fall in love again. (They don’t have to go to counseling if you would rather not write about that.) Thank you!

I can most certainly do this for you, @shadow-avis!  I hope that you enjoy your story, because here it is…comin’ ‘atcha!

Sighing as you bury your head in your hands, you tune out the voice of your husband, his yelling reaching an all-time high as the counselor tries to calm him down.

“I have a career!  We went through this when we were dating and you were fine with it!” Matthew yells.

“You’re just being selfish at this point!  We see each other plenty!” he roars.

“Yeah, when we’re around other people!” you finally counter, picking your head out of your hands as the tears begin to stream down your face, “I’m tired of always seeing you when we are around everyone else.  Matthew, we haven’t had sex in months!”

“Is this true, Matthew?” the counselor asks, his face slowly drifting to his as you scoot farther away from him on the couch, grabbing a pillow and placing it in your lap.

“I mean…we’ve been married for 7 years!  Of course the sex is gonna dwindle!” Matthew exclaims.

Looking off into the corner as you hear the counselor drone on to Matthew, you shake your head as you lick your lips.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you murmur.

“What was that?” the counselor asks.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you snicker, shaking your head as you look down at the pillow in your lap.

“What…what does that mean?” Matthew asks, his tone of voice suddenly softening as his hand comes into view.

“Get off of me,” you whisper harshly, pulling away from him as you stand to your feet.

“We’ve been in counseling for 6 months.  And all we do is come in here, yell at each other, try to bring each other down with airing our dirty laundry.  And then we go home, sleep in separate beds, tip-toe around each other, and don’t speak until the next appointment.  Do you realize this is the only time I ever get one on one time with you, Matthew?  And we still have company!” you breathe, lazily ushering to the counselor.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you say, lowering your gaze to the floor and shaking your head.

“Y/N-” Matthew begins, standing up as you back towards the door.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, sniffing your tears away as you turn around, heading for the door and throwing it open as you jog towards the exit.


You don’t know how long you had been driving around, but when you had arrived at your home, you saw Matthew standing on the porch, his traveling bags that you knew all too well sitting beside him on the stoop.

“Figures,” you breathe, putting the car in park as you slowly get out, your feet dropping to the concrete as you begin to walk up the walkway to your front door.

“Have a safe…whatever,” you brush, smoothing past him as you feel a pressure around your wrist.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, causing you to look up at him as you furrow your brow.

“Clearly you are,” you say, your eyes motioning to the bags as he drops his grasp.

“I mean, I am…but it’s not work,” he says.

“Well, have fun with Shemar,” you spit.

“Y/N, just listen…” he trails off, his voice heavy with sorrow as you sigh, slowly turning your body back to him.

“Yes?” you state.

“The counselor had a good idea after you left…” he trails off.


“He said that maybe a separation period would be necessary,” Matthew states.

“Wonderful.  Because we aren’t already apart enough,” you huff, shaking your head.

“Like I said, have fun at Shemar’s,” you say, going to close the door as Matthew juts his foot out, keeping it from closing as you groan to yourself.

“He said that we should live apart for a bit, you know…try dating again, or something like that,” Matthew adds, trying to keep his voice calm.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” you shake your head, slowly turning towards him as you re-open the door, “You know…the issue between us,” you say.

“What are you talking about?  I thought this was a good idea?” Matthew says, his voice beginning to raise.

“This has nothing to do with you being gone, or us always being around your friends, or us never having sex…but you haven’t been mentally present for the past 5 months of this pointless journey, so you didn’t actually absorb anything I was saying,” you spit.

Watching Matthew furrow his brow, you shake your head as you continue, “It’s about respect.”

Respect?” Matthew enunciates.

“Yes,” you say pointedly.

“How do I not respect you?” he asks, his voice growing in volume.

“Calm your attitude and I’ll tell you,” you huff.

Watching his jaw clench, you continue, “When you do come home, you barge in like you never left.  You come home and you set your bags off to the side, expecting me to unpack them and wash them…which I do, because I love you.  Not because I’m your mother, and not because it’s my job, and I don’t get thanked.  I stand by your side and smile sweetly, despite the hellish marriage we’ve had for the past 3 years, and I get absolutely nothing.  I ask you to put a dish in the sink when you’re done, and it stays on the table, sometimes for days, before I cave and put it away.  I ask you to run to the store and get something, and you come back with everything but the one item I asked you for, and I have to then stop what I’m doing, run back out, and get it.”

As he looks at you in disbelief, you shake your head slowly as you take a deep breath, willing the tears to stay at bay as you try to gather your thoughts.

“I am not your mother.  I am under no obligation to take care of you.  I do because I love you.  Or…at least I did…”

That statement caught his attention.

“You…you don’t…love me…anymore?” he asks softly.

Shrugging your shoulders, you complete your thought.

“But through all of it, it’s not about the dishes, or your luggage, or the groceries, or the constantly peed-on toilet seat or the television that’s left on all night or the lights that never get turned off…”

Feeling a tear escape your face, Matthew reaches out to wipe it away, only for you to take a step back from him.

You could have sworn you watched his heart break.

“It’s about the fact that I ask you to do these things, and you don’t respect my existence, or my opinion, enough to do them.  You tell yourself that it isn’t important, or you shrug it off as something you don’t have to do, or you tell yourself I’m just in a nagging mood because I’m on my period, and you leave it at that.  You don’t respect my opinion.  You don’t respect me.”

As Matthew blinks at you, his jaw agape as you sniff hard, wiping away the other tears threatening to fall, you swallow hard as you put your hand behind the door, readying yourself to close it.

“These things don’t seem important to you…” you trail off, looking up at him as the tears you didn’t realize were brimming spill over.

“…but they are to me.  And that should be enough for you to respect them, even though you don’t understand them.”

“Have fun at Shemar’s,” you whisper, dipping your head and closing the door, feeling it latch as you raise your trembling hand and flip the lock, your forehead leaning into the door as you silently sob, your chest heaving as you hear Matthew slowly drag his luggage to his car.


As the days rolled on, you found your spirits picking up.  You smiled a bit more, you enjoyed your cups of coffee in the morning.  You began singing in the shower again.

You felt free.

Sure, Matthew was sending you good morning texts and little messages throughout the day, but you didn’t care.  You knew he was doing these things because your marriage was on the rocks.

You just ended up deleting them anyway.

As the days rolled into weeks, the texts became less frequent.  The phone calls at night that he would attempt stopped, you assumed because of his work.  He had a bit of time off in the summer, but he always took on other projects, and you knew that one had started up a few days ago.

And then…they ceased altogether.

You found yourself sleeping better, eating a bit more, and soon the color in your skin and the weight you had lost began to slowly come back, and you found yourself filling out your clothes beautifully, causing you…for the first time in 3 years…to smile at your appearance in the mirror.

You felt unstoppable.

This trial separation was a very good thing…it served to show you that you were better off without Matthew.  That somewhere, out in the big, scary world, there was a man who wanted a family…who had the time to respect you and cherish you in the way you had longed for for quite some time.

And you found yourself smiling at that prospect.

So as you grabbed your keys from the counter and slipped on your ballet flats, you venture out to your car, opening up your GPS and plugging in the address you had found earlier.

The address for the divorce lawyer.


Sitting in your car after the consultation with the divorce lawyer, you sighed as you placed your forehead onto the steering wheel.

How did it get this bad?

What started out as a new chapter in your life quickly delved into a self-analysis of where you truly were emotionally.

You had ended up getting up halfway through the consultation and running out.

As happy as you were without him…your heart wasn’t ready.

And it made you so frustrated.

Yelling in the car and you kick your legs, beating your fists against the steering wheel, you begin to sob against it, your cheek pressing against the cool material of the wheel as your body sinks forward, your chest heaving with sobs as snot begins to pour down your face.

You faintly heard the car door open, feeling someone reach around and unhook you from your seat.

Feeling your sobbing body being lifted, your head tilting to the side as he collides with something firm and strong, you feel a pair of arms underneath your body as someone clutches you close, heaving you from the car and starting you towards your house.

You didn’t care anymore.

You didn’t care about anything any longer.

Sobbing as you feel someone press a kiss to your forehead, you hear your front door open, the cool air of the conditioning system causing your body to tremble as you feel yourself being lowered onto the couch, a blanket slowly being pulled over your body as you continue to heave against the cushions, your red eyes beginning to puff as the tears begin to slow.

You don’t know how long you were asleep, and you didn’t know what time it was, but when you opened your eyes, you saw a disheveled, haggard Matthew…sitting on your coffee table, his head in his hands as his legs jiggle up and down.

“Matthew…?” you croak.

Watching him shoot his head up, a kind smile on his face, he dips down onto his knees, brushing the mangled hair out of your view as his eyes dance around your face.

“Hey there,” he coos.

Swallowing hard as you grimace at the taste in your mouth, you hear Matthew chuckle lightly to himself as you open your eyes again, your heart fluttering at his sight once more.

Damn your emotions.

Laying there, not saying a word, you watch Matthew get up, his body leaning over yours as he slowly descends, his body shifting in between you and the couch, his long arms drawing you close as you close your eyes, your mind soaking up the memory of his body heat as you feel him press a light kiss just behind your ear.

“My god…I am so sorry,” he whispers, his breath catching in his throat.

Feeling your jaw clench, you take in a deep breath through your nose, willing your body to stop shaking as he holds you close, his face burying itself into your neck as you involuntarily nuzzle the top of his head with your cheek.

“Y/N…I’m so sorry,” he chokes out, crying into your skin as you feel your eyes give way once more.

Shifting on the couch, your arms coming around his neck as you pull his sobbing form into your chest, your tears break free as they slide down your cheeks, dripping into his hair as you feel his body being wracked with sobs, your heart breaking for him as you slowly slip your leg in between his.

“We have a long way to go…” you choke out, your hand running through his hair as you feel him nod.

“I know…” he trails off, his nose sniffling hard as you close your eyes.

“I can’t live without you, Y/N,” he admits, his entire body shaking as he tugs you even closer to himself.

“Apparently, I can’t either,” you sigh.

And as the two of you lay there on the couch, your hearts beating as one as your tired, weakened bodies tremble in each other’s arms, you feel yourself reaching down for the blanket, pulling it on top of you both as you tilt your head to the side and kiss the top of his head.

“I love you so much,” Matthew chokes out.

Nodding your head against him, your lips sighing deeply as he crooks his head to look up at you, you flicker your gaze down to his as his puppy dog eyes linger on your stare.

“I never stopped loving you,” you murmur, his eyes twinkling at your sentiment as a light smile plays on his lips, “I just stopped caring.”

“I know…” he trails off, tucking his head back into you as you feel yourself pulling him closer.

“Have dinner with me tomorrow night,” he muses.

“You have work, Matthew,” you lull.

“No, I don’t,” he says.

“What?” you question, looking down at him as he glances back up at you.

“I backed out of the project,” he states.

Staring at him as your lips slowly part, you feel him begin to sit up as you let him go, your body falling to the cushions as he hovers above you, his lips merely centimeters away from yours.

“Why did you do that?” you breathe, your eyes dancing across his face.

“Because I had something more important to take care of,” he says, bringing his thumb to your cheek and caressing it softly.

“A-a-and…what is that?” you whisper, feeling your heart flutter as his face slowly moves closer to yours, his lips feather-like upon yours.

“My wife,” he breathes, his lips lightly locking with yours as you feel your hands slowly migrate to his hair, your tongue darting out lightly as you tilt your head, feeling his hands splay across your back as your mouths part in a passionate dance.

“I love you,” you whisper into his lips.

“And I love you,” he breathes, his face inching back from yours as he smiles at you, your eyes locking with his as you feel yourself blushing.

“Have dinner with me,” he says.

“Just tell me when and where,” you muse, a smile playing on your lips as he sinks back down next to you, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you close.

It was going to be an uphill battle.

But something told you the engine had just been repaired.

When You're Not Doing Enough

Whether it’s studying for exams, applying to summer jobs and internships, or finishing important projects, there’s always that moment when you panic and think, “I’M NOT DOING ENOUGH." What follows is a lot of should-ing, self-criticizing, and feeling overwhelmed by everything you need to do. 

One of the ways to cope with these situations is to make a list of everything you HAVE done. You can answer the questions below, or simply come up with your own list! It may not "count” towards the work you’re necessarily thinking of, but it helps to see that you’re not just wasting your time. You’ve spent your time in meaningful ways. 

1. Have you done something for your mental health over the last few weeks? What was it? How was it good for you?

2. Have you done something that you enjoyed or are passionate about over the last few weeks? What was it? How did it make you feel?

3. Did you overcome any difficulties or step outside of your comfort zone over the last few weeks? What was it?

4. Did you spend quality time with family or friends? What did you do? 

5. Did you run any errands that needed to get done? What were they? 

6. Have you done something good for your body over the last few weeks? What is it?

7. Did you experience something new or fun that you haven’t before? What was it? 

8. Is there any progress that’s been made on your work that you’re not recognizing? What is it? 

What is #eternalmam?

It’s a tag where I’ll post drabbles set in the universe of my fic Move A Mountain.

Does this mean there won’t be a sequel?

Yes, unfortunately, that’s exactly what it means. Believe me when I say the thought of writing a MAM sequel is incredibly tempting, but I doubt I’d do it justice. To sit down and write another 70k fic, I’ll need a plot to drive the story onward, and I don’t wanna ruin Stiles and Derek’s happily ever after by doing that.

This option is better in my own opinion. These drabbles won’t be full chapters, they’ll just be random moments scattered all over the MAM timeline. Headcanons about their continued life. Fluff, smut, angst, whatever. I know this is the only form of sequel I’ll be able to provide for this story. Take it or leave it!

How many drabbles will there be?

No clue. I guess that’s the point of it being eternal. I’ll dive back into this verse whenever I come up with something I wanna write for them.

Can I give you prompts for this tag?

Please do! I’d love to hear your own headcanons, and if it agrees with me I might make another part out of it. No promises, but ideas are always welcomed.

What’s the order of the drabbles posted this far?

I try leaving hints of where on the timeline they’re set, mostly focusing on Stiles’ character and his development, so that’s a hint for the future.


At 19 years old, Chanel Christine has already been featured on clothing and e-commerce sites such as Kaboom! Magazine, Untz Untz Clothing, Apliiq and Funpix Honolulu. Based in Los Angeles, California, Chanel is an aspiring model who has worked with industry photographers such as Rey Trajano and Gilbert Sta Ines. Chanel’s passion for modeling and her unique style has made her a rising figure on new media platforms, with over 5k likes on Facebook, 3k followers on Tumblr and 4k followers on Instagram.

Directed and Produced by: The Always Summer Project 

Chanel Christine
Instagram: @chanerubaby


My sister keeps bugging me to put up this time-lapse. This is one of my summer projects. I’m always doodling little designs everywhere so I decided to go big on my room wall.

Made with Instagram
  • you: mk is dead
  • me: hahaha cool so anyway, remember when korra inspired mako to live better and be selfless???
  • you: but mk is dea--
  • me: "I'LL FOLLOW YOU INTO BATTLE" hahaha so awesome, right?
  • you: it is dea--