with a red ribbon and everything

What was a god? A focus of belief. If people believed, a god began to grow. Feebly at first, but if the swamp taught anything, it taught patience. Anything could be the focus of a god. A handful of feathers with a red ribbon around them, a hat and coat on a couple of sticks…anything. Because when all people had was practically nothing, then anything could be almost everything.
—  Terry Pratchett, Witches Abroad (HarperTorch, 2002)
Nobody is in love with me and everything is still warm. Still soft. Still rosewater and a typewriter ribbon. Still cookbooks and salt air and sheer black lingerie. Still red lipstick. Still mostly kind. Still often uncomplicated. Still mints at the bottom of my purse, hair held back, pulse thumping through skin. Still sweet tea in a pitcher on the kitchen counter, a cold glass with three lemon slices, a full ice cube tray. I don't understand how it’s all so light.
—  Trista Mateer

“Adam’s hands had stopped jerking as the demon realized that they were well secured. His head rested miserably on Ronan’s shoulder, everything shaking, standing only because Ronan did not allow him to sink.” x [Requested by @seekthemist​]

anonymous asked:

Have any advice for accessorizing outfit designs? I feel like i either go too elaborate or too dull and cant seem to find that middle ground

I’m not a huge expert on this and am guilty of oversaturating my characters with unnecessary stuff, but when I actually try to design properly I usually go with first making the silhouette, then adding finer details (like jewelry or filigree or other deets) in places where I want to lead the eyes- like, let’s say the facial or neck area!

I usually make sure the other parts aren’t as detailed as the part I want to emphasize~

e.g. for this illustration (again thank you @aomaoe for lending your spicy boi) I poured My Soul into detailing and using more contrasts/darker shadows on the hair, faces, floral hairclip, lace glove and coat because that’s where I want you to look (if you look again everything else was intentionally left chunky and two-toned).

the ribbons and general flow of the composition lead towards the subjects as well, while the red blooms make sure to nail your eyes towards that part once you’ve locked on!

this one was intentionally made to be a clusterfuck of stuff for that UTAU Aesthetic ™ but I tried to keep the general silhouette and main color blocks intact, so your eyes have places to settle on once it gets sick of all the other details~

same general rule for this one despite the saturation of patterns- mostly black and simpler patterns on the bottom, more light colors and details on top (an exception would probably be  @magebomb‘s Tyr, whose tie leads the eyes towards the pattern on his skirt, and it better did because I Poured My Tears Into That Pattern)

We Are Young: Chapter 3

Throne of Glass High School AU

Summary: Senior Rowan Whitethorn is new to town. It doesn’t take him long to get use to a new school, make new friends, even join the local hockey team. But it also doesn’t take him long to meet sophomore and figure skater Aelin Galathynius. And it doesn’t take him long to realize one thing; he can’t stand her.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter 


Elide sat perched on the footsteps of the house. The morning sun beamed down on her, the sky a crystal blue. A light breeze picked up, blowing around her hair as she pulled her jacket tighter around her. They were only a week or so into October, and the wind definitely held that harsh, autumn bite. But today, it was chillier than normal. She’d definitely be warmer if she were to just wait inside. But being inside would mean a higher chance of seeing her uncle. And she wasn’t in the mood to start her day off by having a lovely chat with Uncle Vernon. Especially on game day.

After going through her normal, quiet routine of getting ready for school, Elide had made her way downstairs. She prayed to every god she knew that it would be one of those mornings where her uncle was passed out. Thankfully, her prayers were answered.

When she made it to the living room, she found Uncle Vernon asleep on the couch. A half empty bottle was clenched in his hand as he snored loudly. Not wanting to risk waking him and getting yelled at this early, Elide went outside. Which is how she found herself sitting on the front steps of her parents’ old home.

She didn’t remember them well, her parents. They died when she was young. She grew up with her Uncle, who was always a cold evil bastard. But when his business burned down years ago and he last basically everything, that’s when the drinking started and things got worse…

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I’m calling this the year of treating yourself to everything red, schmoopy and heart shaped, whether or not anyone else treats you. So, instead of a gift guide this time, here’s a treat guide for a self-love and self-care themed Valentine’s day ❤️️

Lovedrobe heart cutout dress 

Red heart crossbody bag   

Heart mesh top 

✶ RAID ribbon tie ballet flats 

Chocolate strawberry jar candle   

Crimson velvet and lace lingerie set 

✶ Trop de Love enamel pin 

Rose hearts bath bombs 

Dream and sugar tea set 

✶ Burgundy heart fairisle pajamas 

Red ribbons Pt 1

(pt 2) (pt 3)

(stranger things soulmate AU, because I’m a sucker for romance)

“Basically, every year there is a soulmate day. It’s a HUGE deal. Everyone who is fifteen years old learns who their soulmate is, because their name appears on the wrist of their person at midnight. Pretty cool, right?”

Eleven remembered the day Mike had told her that, around a year ago. He had been grinning wide when he told her. He was always the most patient with her, explaining every little thing she still didn’t understand. After around three years of living the closest thing to a normal life that she could, she had learned a lot about the world. That day, the soulmate memory was the most relevant. Because that very evening was THE evening. The midnight that would change their lives forever. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought and she fiddled with the red ribbon tied around her wrist. She sighed as she looked at it. Apparently, it was customary to tie a ribbon around your wrist as well, just so you could pull it off at midnight. There were a lot of customs she still didn’t understand.

Thunder cracked loudly outside, making her jump.

Hopper had agreed to have Max sleepover that night. Max was gratefull, because her stepbrother had been ruthless that week and she desperately needed to get out for a night.

That’s how the two girls ended up sitting together on El’s bedroom floor, trying to focus on anything but the pits in their stomachs. Of course finding out who your soulmate would be was exciting, but it was terrifying as well.

The clock read 11:15pm.

“Max. I’m scared.” El said, in a voice barely above a whisper. They hadn’t been talking much, just enjoying the quiet. El sat with her knees tucked into her chest and her chin on her knees. Max looked up from the radio she was fiddling with. She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again.

“What if it’s not Mike? I love Mike. No one else will understand me. I’m scared.” Eleven felt the panic set in deeper as she spoke. She thought telling someone would help but it didn’t. After a moment of silence, Max opened her mouth, and this time, she spoke.

“It’s ok. I’m scared too. I don’t like this whole…. fate thing. But it’s gonna be ok.” Max reached forward and squeezed Eleven’s hand, a rare display of affection. “Besides,” She continued, “ You and Mike are made for each other. You’ve got nothing to worry about. You’re literally all he talks about. Ever. It’s kind of annoying.” Eleven grinned and blushed at that. She was still scared, but she was not alone.

Lucas was trying too hard to stay cool. It wasn’t working. It was hard for him to hide the way his stomach seemed to flip every time his eyes wandered to his wrist, and Lucas kept feeling his heart skip a beat or two when he glanced at the clock. 

The clock that read 11:30pm. 

“Dustin, I don’t- Dustin! Wake up! We still have 30 minutes!” Lucas punched Dustin in the arm, annoyed that he was calm enough to be asleep. “Shit. Shit! Sorry. I’m up.” Dustin sat up abruptly, rubbing his eyes. “As I was saying” Lucas  continued, glaring at the boy next to him on the sofa. “I don’t know who I want my soulmate to be…. I really don’t.” He looked at his hands, and Dustin frowned. “Max, right? Wasn’t that, like, already decided?” There was something  in Dustin’s voice that Lucas couldn’t understand. He didn’t respond. “You really don’t know, do you?” Dustin muttered, his voice laced with disbelief. “No idea.” Lucas said as casually as he could. He wasn’t great at lying. He did have a pretty good idea of who he wanted. But it scared him. Dustin raised his eyebrows. He could obviously tell there was something the other boy wasn’t telling him, but he didn’t push it. 

There were a few moments of silence.

“What about you?” 

Dustin didn’t expect that at all. He thought for a moment. “Well… You’re not gonna like it.” 

“It’s Max, isn’t it.” Lucas groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Of course it’s Max. You never stopped liking her, did you?” He turned to face him. 


Mike and Will were sitting in Will’s room, both of them silent. Mike was sitting on the bed, staring out at the pouring rain, and Will was sketching something that Mike couldn’t see. 

The clock read 11:45

“fifteen minutes” Will mumbled, sounding much steadier than he felt. Mike looked back at him and glanced at his notebook, not responding. He caught a glimpse of dark skin and red ribbon. Lucas. He was drawing Lucas. Finally, Mike spoke. “I know I should be much more happy right now. But I’m afraid everything is about change. Big time.” Will looked up, understanding. “Yeah. It’s like- It feels like everything is being decided in ten minutes.” He affirmed, a little shiver running through him. Ten minutes.

Five minutes. 

Two minutes. 

One minute.

Eleven sat across from Max on the floor, cross legged and breathing harder than she needed to. They had agreed to show each other before they looked at their own arms, so their wrists sat side by side facing away from each of their faces. El noticed that both of their fingers were shaking. She opened her mouth to say something but before she could, the redhead in front of her blurted suddenly “It’s twelve!”


And then a searing pain in her arm.

self care & self control | min yoonji

Smut| Angst| Fluff

word count: 6,700+

pairing: min yoonji x reader

warnings: masturbation, voyeurism, (slight) cum eating, dirty thoughts

a/n: i posted this before and took it down but this is the finished copy! only posting this here bc its smut >:3

The house is mostly quiet, only the hum of electronics and whizzing cars from outside to even graze the silence. The small apartment is nearly empty, all the lights are off with not a soul to be seen. Deeper into the home were the bedrooms lie, a light shimmers out, peeking from beneath the doorway. The sound of her voice is soft, nearly unintelligible, but the sharp moans and pants leaving her cherry red lips are oh so obvious.

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my (big) package with the Jumin dakimakura arrived this morning, and he’s so beautiful!!

sorry about the crappy pics, but it was the quickest way to cram everything in a single post lol

sooo… from the top, the dakimakura, with our lovely Jumin on one side, and the now infamous red ribbon on the other (gotta get myself a cushion for this now…)

coming with this, also a little velvet pouch containing… you guessed it… a red ribbon. Lmao Cheritz, you don’t do things half-heartedly, do you?
there was also a ‘reward notice’ for whoever stole Jumin’s heart, which is very cute and funny (Jumin you dork lol)
AND the pre-order anniversary mug is simply lovely, the cat print is adorable :D

then we have the emoji pillow set! 
as you can see, they have a different print for each side, and they come with 2 (identical) sheets of emoji stickers, according to what pillow you bought (i.e. if you buy Yoosung’s pillow, you get Yoosung’s stickers, and so on)
the cases come with a pillow to put inside the case as well (just like the Seven huggable pillow), and if you plan on getting all of them make sure you have space (they’re big lol, I have no idea where I’m gonna put them now XD)
lastly, as they also were a pre-order, I got the enamel pins as a bonus!! :D
so cute and shiny!! >.<

cheritz, my wallet hates you, but you never disappoint <3

re:quest [tension] - chapter 5

This is the last chapter of “tension”. It’s been lots of fun translating it, and though it’s been difficult, I’ve learned a lot from it. The next short story I’m planning on translating is “quinquies”, the short story featuring Saiko and the Qs. It’ll be a while before that story will be out though because of my schedule. Anyways, thank you for your support, and I hope you enjoyed “tension” as much as I did!

For those who haven’t read “tension”, the short story about the CCG art festival, you can read chapter 1 here. Enjoy!

(Thank you @tokyo-ghoul-out-of-context for proofreading.)

Today was the day of the art festival. The convention centre located in the same ward as the CCG main office was showing a turnout unseen in previous years. All sorts of paintings, sculptures, pottery and the like were on display, with the outstanding art that had won awards organized based on the colour of their attached ribbons.

In the midst of it all, Urie was gazing at the red ribbon for the highest honour that was attached to his own painting.

“…(Of course it would go to me.)”

Keep reading

Okay so idk if anyone’s done this before but I honestly love how Red Vs. Blue has perfectly set Donut’s storyline up for him being a trans guy:

- he vehemently defends his masculinity, almost as if he’s had to work to earn respect for that
- he regularly corrects people and makes sure they know he’s a guy
- he hates when people call his armor pink
- he always corrects people’s assumptions that because he’s wearing light-ish red armor he’s automatically gay
- he makes his attraction to girls well-known and makes sure people know it’s valid
- at first he hated it, but his new light-ish red armor is “roomy” in the crotch area compared to the regulation red armor, almost as if the army recognized him as a girl when he first joined, but now they recognize him as a dude and gave him the correct armor, which would mean more space in the groin area
- once people quit calling him a girl and realize he’s a guy, he seems to feel more comfortable with making dick jokes and gay innuendos
- he seems to hold onto some “girly” traditions such as sleepovers and sleepover games (i.e. truth or dare with Caboose), braiding each other’s hair, among other things (I remember him referencing things like this, but I can’t remember exact quotes, so I don’t wanna mis-quote anyone)
- he thinks some chick things are fun, such as ribbons and unicorns, and he also thoroughly enjoys interior decorating (a stereotypically girly thing, pardon me for including that one)
- near the end of season 2, when Donut is abducted by the Blues and the rest of Red team is trying to figure out a plan, they say they have to rescue him “before he cracks and reveals everything.” Grif asks “everything like what? Where we keep his tampons?” Most people probably took/take this as a normal jab at Donut but idk Grif’s tone isn’t the same and it’s not said as if it’s a joke like their other comments on his pink armor or his innuendos; it’s said like he’s being serious: Red Team really doesn’t have any secrets, except that Donut is a trans guy and they keep tampons and other supplies on hand for him
- he has lace underwear (and offered to let Caboose wear some of them)

I’m sure there’s a bunch more, I’m only on s4 of my most recent re-watch, so I’ll probably add more and feel free to add more. I just love the idea that Donut is a trans guy who’s helping to save the galaxy, one douchebag at a time.

state of grace is for the boys and girls who make another person their religion and silver jewelry and early morning walks through the city and smelling spring in the air and the moment you realise that you are alive right now and this is all there will ever be and shards of bright stained glass and the way the light looks through them and waking up next to someone you love with the sunlight spilling through the curtains and onto their face and crisp white shirts and pretty underwear

red is for anyone who is recklessly impulsive and always wonders what would happen if they just didn’t hit the breaks and burning things with a lighter you found on the street and the way paper curls up under a flame and remembering something awful that happened a long time ago and feeling like you’ve been stabbed and brightly coloured winter coats and burning your mouth on your coffee and being so angry you burst into tears and wearing your mother’s perfume and oversized jumpers

treacherous is for the soldiers built on suburban lifestyles and nine to five routines and the people who get underneath their armor and seep into their veins like stardust and flowers that are destined to wither away but are beautiful right now and nights at restaurants and cinemas and parties that you know can’t last forever and snowflakes before they melt and light reflecting rainbows onto floorboards in your childhood bedroom

i knew you were trouble is for the jilted lover who has been left for dead one too many times and the way they rise from the ashes reborn and old songs your parents used to play that warn you about love and smirks across cafe tables and adrenaline rushes and poetry that doesn’t rhyme and taking the blame to ease the heat and the sky on an overcast day when it looks almost white and heavy doc marten boots

all too well is for everyone caged inside their own head like a songbird not allowed to fly and classic romance novels and cups of tea alone on cold mornings and crying while sat on hard bathroom tiles and marking the lowest moment in your life so far and knowing that things will get worse before they get better and old vinyls and postcards from lovers in bygone eras and red ribbons in hair and trying to enjoy doing things alone and all the letters to people you don’t know anymore kept under your bed and inside your head

22 is for anyone who stubbornly refuses to grow old and who will still be as bright and bold as times square in everyone’s memories long after they cease to exist and spontaneous adventures and metallic candy wrappers and pencil crayons and sitting up so late with your friends that everything is funny and drinks in blues and greens and pinks and tiny cocktail umbrellas and listening to old songs from your childhood and still remembering all the words and where  you listened to them and sitting on kitchen sides and swinging your legs against the cabinets

i almost do is for the delicately hesitant and how moments pass through their hands like grains of sand and constantly thinking of what could have happened and now never will and unfinished paintings and when you walk into a room and suddenly forget what you even needed and daisy flower crowns made on mild spring days and fruit teas and planning your whole life out with someone who chose not to stay and empty photo albums that you bought with good intentions and letting candles burn out and lying awake thinking of the person you love an hoping they are doing the same

we are never getting back together is for the people who feel like balloons finally cut free and getting dressed up even though you aren’t going anywhere and the party you didn’t think you’d enjoy but is really the best night of your life and pastel nail varnish and carnivals and candy floss and carousel music and slowly distancing yourself from people who aren’t good for you and bright yellow shirts and people who similarly remind you of sunshine and the lengths you go to hold onto those golden people

stay stay stay is for the desperately hopeful lovers who can’t hold grudges when they’d rather hold hands and someone pressing their cold limbs on your body under the covers and bath bombs with gold glitter and slightly messy and overgrown gardens with bright flowers and weeds mixing together and novelty sunglasses and blowing bubbles and when the light glows out from behind someone’s head like the halo you’ve always known was there but have never actually seen

the last time is for the girl or boy that has no heart left because they’ve given out little bits of theirs to everyone else to make them happy but received no pieces in return and silk dresses and marble statues and wandering through art galleries and museums alone and looking at other people just as much as the art and vintage glasses frames and high ceilings and tall drinks with ice and the gravitational pull toward people who are like black holes

holy ground is for those who remember life through rose tinted glasses and the way they repaint their life to the colours of something more romantic and knee high socks and printed floral tea dresses and repainted retro furniture and ivy crawling up old buildings and the feeling you get at a concert when you realise the person you idolise is real and there and long hair slightly tousled from the wind and days at aquariums and picnics in the park

sad beautiful tragic is for everyone tied to the tracks but wishing the train would come back and foggy mornings and window seats and ripped faded jeans and chandeliers and cracked gold gilded mirrors and the way you feel loss like a physical ache and sea foam and silent rides on public transport and the beautifully planned out architecture and the shapes it makes against the sky and mournful words scrawled on white walls

the lucky one is for those who feel like nothing more than someone else’s means to an end but are really the brightest star in the sky and don’t need to be part of a constellation and wide brimmed hats and matte lipsticks and cashmere jumpers and not belonging to anyone not a person or a place or a time and lace bralets and fur coats and coffee to go in minimalist cups and rehearsing what you need to say in the bathroom and reminders scrawled on hands in biro that contrast with effortlessly manicured nails

everything has changed is for the lovers from the wrong era straight out of a john hughes film and denim jackets that drown you and rollerblading dates and diner booths and awkward slow dancing at prom and grinning like an idiot alone in your bedroom and butterflies in your stomach too perfect to digest and tulle skirts and passing notes and being someone different today to the people you have been before and will ever be again

starlight is for anyone with a mind full of clouds and shooting stars and the cautious dreamers and their silent night prayers and unfinished to do lists and promises on ring pops and emulating 1940s power couples and expensive brogues and borrowing someone else’s jacket and being thankful that the universe created something so perfect and that you got to experience it and holographic bags and scarves in hair

begin again is for those who are secretly on the run from all the things they’ve left behind and seeking a fresh start and taking up journalling to learn from yesterdays mistakes and writing in silver ink and pleated skirts that perfect to spin in and exploring your hometown and finding new things you never saw the first time and the smell of new books and filling your home with scented candles to mask their smell still on the other pillow and grass stains on white things and singing loudly and alone in your kitchen while cooking

anonymous asked:

could you do a valentines evak?🙏🏽you think hey would be that couple who don't celebrate?

Ask and ye shall receive!!! HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!!!


Really Isak has got to stop being surprised at the nice things Even does for him for no reason. Or maybe today there is a reason or whatever- but it doesn’t stop the feeling of flushed pleasure that creeps down his cheeks when he opens his locker.

Instead of the chaos of books and stray papers and old candy bar wrappers that he’s always been guilty of forgetting to throw away-

Everything in his locker is nicely sorted and cleaned out, books standing up straight and notebooks smoothed out.

It would be gift enough, but Even has never been one to keep his chill.

Three roses, bound together by a red ribbon sit unassumingly on top of his biology book.

“Fucker,” Isak sighs, trying to beat down the smile threatening to take over his features. He picks up the roses and sniffs them quickly, eyes darting around the empty hallway. Satisfied that no one was there, he sniffed again.

The smelled perfect and fuck, Isak was going to kill him because Isak literally gave Even a condensed version of the Jonas’s valentines-day-is-nothing-but-a-capitalistic- scheme speech two nights ago.

And damn it, Isak had planned to be the romantic boyfriend this time. He was going to surprise him with a new bottle of lube and- he doesn’t know- maybe a bow tied around his dick. Or, he guesses, his ass. But fucking Even is always one-upping him.

Isak slid out his phone and snapped a quick picture of himself staring cross-eyed at the flowers.

Ugly as fuck. Perfect.

Isak: They’re amazing you asshole

And he attached the picture and sent it.

Even: New Lock screen pic.

Isak: Sap

Isak remembered what he actually came to his locker for and began the process of unloading his bag before his phone buzzed again.

Even: look in your bio book

Isak sighed and did as he asked, popping open the cover of the book and catching a large something as it slid out.

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY BABY, the front of the envelope read out in Even’s looped handwriting.

Oh boy.

Isak slid his thumb under the slip of paper to open it. Two other enveloped parcels were shoved inside.

Open me first! the smaller, heavier envelope read. 

He did. 

And a hotel key rested innocently inside.

Isak snorted, especially at the sticky note on the back of the card reading, we’re going to do it right this time, no naked activities OUTSIDE of the bedroom.

Isak is in love with an absolute loon. God.

(But fuck yes, he’d been wondering how he could get Eskild and Noora and Linn out of the apartment for weeks. Now he doesn’t have to and can have loud obnoxious sex with Even in peace. #Blessed)

He almost forgets about the second (third?) little envelope, which he opens quickly, thrusting the hotel key into his back pocket.

Oh it’s a picture, Isak think, flipping it over to see the image-

He flips it back over just as quickly.

OH MY GOD. Isak’s heart is beating a mile a minute and he looks again around the hallway.

A dick pic.

Even printed out a fucking dick pic and didn’t warn Isak.

Isak flips it back over to take another peek to confirm that yes this was in fact a picture of Even’s dick.

Isak throws the picture into his locker and slides his phone back out.

Isak: ?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!

How could you do this to me????? 


Even: <3 something to keep you tied over until tonight. 

Happy Valentine’s Day! <3 <3

Isak was going to kill him. 100%.

(Of course that didn’t stop him from taking just one last peek at the picture again. Fuck, he’s only human.)

anonymous asked:

i remember a few years ago the sunny tag on tumblr was empty and in only a few years it got infested with these people who are looking to tv shows and their characters for wish fulfillment in order to distract themselves from problems in their own lives. like, the show was always a comedy, there was no subplot or queerbaiting whatsoever. these 'fans' should be angry at themselves for getting caught up in something which would never materialize on tv anyways

I remember that too, and it’s why I got out of the tags early in the season. I have certain people get information and reblog things for me/my dash now. I’m so beyond done.

I think the problem is, as mentioned before, these people don’t watch the show but Watch The Show. They insert what they want to see with their hashtag discourse. They have it in their minds that Charlie is trans and/or ace, so they look for things that prove it. They have it in their minds Dee is a lesbian, so they look for things that prove that. They think that Dennis is bi and in love with Mac, so they look for things that prove that. They twist any look between real life friends or actors or trust each other in that moment or some type of look of admiration or waiting to see where the bit of improv goes as A Look It’s Proof They’re Boyfriends <3 <3 <3 Confirmation bias is a real and potentially dangerous thing (see: the current America political climate). The same can be said for any shows. I’ve been having discussions with a few people in the last week involving Supernatural, Harry Potter, Sherlock, Glee, and a few other shows I can’t remember….none of which I was ever a fan of (sorry, internet & the world at large) but the types of fans and Fandom involved. Even things I have been involved in that involved real people but people treated like characters (the band Keane, the improv TV show Whose Line is it Anyway). I get that media is escapism and theorizing and wanting certain things to happen is part of being a fan and part of the experience, but it really easily can go too far.

In the months leading up to the premiere there were theories and people spreading crap and acting like they had all the answers. And so that became the accepted inevitable and real facts.

This has never been a show that I ever expected anything like this to ever happen to. It’s a low rated cable comedy. It’s seen fans come and go over the years, some people don’t evne know it’s still on the air. Sure, it’s popular worldwide and has that cult following. But in the overall television media space, it’s kind of a drop in the bucket. And despite it being a very political show  with social commentary at its core, it’s not a Political Show. It’s not a romcom, a soap opera, a drama, or whatever else either. It’s not gonna hold your hand and tell you everything is okay and give you morals and life lessons. Sometimes in the end, things are just very “complex issues” and have no ending. Sometimes it’s just “poop is funny.” Any other line of thinking is weird, and is the complete opposite of what the show has established itself to be. Sure, things have changed over the years and characters have grown a little bit and this season had several reaching plot points instead of all being stand alone episodes. But it won’t change to the point where everyone is happy and gets a nice red ribbon tied up on their character’s lives. Should Dennis actually leave, no one is happy. Dennis might be happier and better off, but its a hard decision to leave everyone and thing you’ve known since you were small, even if he knows it will help fill his life up and complete him. And The Gang will miss him too. That’s never been the show. Any tender moment is glossed over with some type of joke or insult because these people typically don’t like to sit with their feelings. They’re content as they are.

prancingpterodactyls  asked:

if you're up for it, fairytale au with klance pls? thanks in advance!!

Listen. listen here you. You need to answer for your goddamn crimes. I will fight you in the street if i see you.

Because listen. the fuck. Up. 

I just wanted to write a short thing! Like 500 words maybe! But I loved this idea so damn much that i wrote a full 10 000 word fic for it.

I’m not lying. I’m not.

Here is the link to it on AO3

But I’ll post the first 1000 or so words here so you can get a feel for it. Alright. let’s go. 

Keith pulls his dark cloak further around his body, trying to disguise the fine clothes he wears underneath. Everything in his closet would have given him away, but luckily he had found this old, threadbare cloak whilst skulking around the guard’s quarters. He hopes it’s not a treasured family heirloom of some sort, because if this experience goes well…. he just might not return it.

Flicking up the cloak’s hood and tightening the scarf around his face, Keith vaults over the palace wall. It’s easy. Startlingly so. He lands with a soft thud in the swampy area just on the other side of the wall. Wearing an an elated grin, Keith tears off towards the market place. His boots touch mud for the first time.

Keep reading

Red Harvest x Reader - Magnificent Seven Fic

“That Indian looks outa place, don’t he, Miss?” said Trevor. Trevor was generally a nice kid. He’d run messages for you over town for some penny candy.

“He does,” you say. “He could use a welcome.” You move around the counter to greet him.

“That ain’t what I meant!” hissed the boy. “I meant he don’t belong!”

You were aware of what Trevor meant, but you didn’t intend on paying him any mind.

“Welcome to the goods store,” you say to the Native American. He looked at you, and you wondered if maybe you should be intimidated after all. He IS big. And strong too. You find yourself wondering who those hands might have killed.

He nods at you after a long moment of studying your face. You can feel your cheeks go hot.

“Er… do you have a name, sir?” you ask. Someone comes into the shop behind you, but you ignore them for the time being, afraid of disrespecting the man in front of you.

“I am Red Harvest,” he says in a deep voice. Then he turns back to a shelf he’s looking at. You don’t even see the merchandise; your eyes are locked on Red Harvest.


“Miss!” says a grating voice from behind you. “I need your help.”

You turn to see Mrs. Tews, a lady you’ve known all your life. She’s motioning frantically, offering a way away from the dangerous injun in your store.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Tews. I’m helping Red Harvest,” you say.

Her jaw all but drops.

When you turn, he’s looking at you with sharp eyes. Everything about him is sharp. His jaw, his hairline, the arrows he’s probably killes with…

“You want to help me?” His voice is quiet. He looks past you at Mrs. Tews, judging the situation.

“You were here first.” Are your cheeks as red as they feel?

He looks back down at you, then asks, “What color?”

With a start, you look at the shelf and find it’s the one with all the ribbons. You wonder what on earth he wants ribbons for. Decorate a horse mane? Hang with feathers from his hair? You can’t even imagine, and you have no facts; only stories told in saloons after too many drinks.

“This one looks good with nearly everything,” you say, lightly laying a finger on a red ribbon, thinking of his name.

Red Harvest nods and takes the small spool. “One,” he says.

You take the ribbon slowly and bring it to the counter, cutting off a decent length. Before you can wonder if the Native can pay, he sets down the money. Cheeks flushed with embarrassment at your assumptions, you pass the ribbon to him, laying the smooth fabric in his rough hands.

You put the money in the register, but when you straighten, you’re surprised to find Red Harvest still standing there.

“Do yo- oh.”

He hands the ribbon to you.

You take it gently, then watch the large man walk out of the shop and vanish from view.

“Well I never!” breathed Mrs. Tews. Trevor swore, and the lady cuffed the back of his head.

You dart around the counter and look out the shop window, but Red Harvest is no where in sight.

Whenever you see the color red, you remember the Native American in your shop who bought you a ribbon as red as your blush, as red as his name, and as red as your feelings long after he’d vanished.

Okay so the song that David sings about rainbows in the white room to give his message to Syd triggered a lot of ideas in the old noggin and I’m never using that word again my head.

The colors in a rainbow are red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. And put all those together, you get white (in the perspective of physics not art). Legion is a very colorful show and not in the way that it’s pretty (which it is but that’s not the point) but like it messes with your head throwing you and David for a loop.

I think considering the fact that Legion (AKA David Haller) is multi-powered mutant with multiple personality disorder, and each of those personalities harnesses a different power. Each of the colors might be symbolic for each personality. But for now I think it represents each facet of his mind.

Let’s start with red.

  • Red: red clearly represents the monster or the parasite that he is so afraid of that’s taking over, call it the yellow eyed devil or the angriest boy in the world, but that is clearly what red represents. The fear that extends from his childhood.
  • Orange: orange represents Syd, and just everything about her. From the start its been her. Whether it’s her coat or the ribbon in her hair. The color orange always seems to point towards her.
  • Yellow: yellow represents the hospital and the false sense of security. The lies that he’s had to live with and the false thought that nothing can hurt him there when he’s already in as much danger as possible.
  • Green: green represents freedom, peace, tranquility. So far, the only people he’s expressed love for is Amy and Syd. The first time we see adult Amy and she promises to talk to David’s doctor about getting him out, she’s wearing this lime green coat. The first time David manages to escape the hospital as Syd, her wheeley bad is also this bright green. Everytime David goes somewhere to calm down when he’s at Summerland, he goes to the lake with the little wooden port and he’s surrounded by foliage and the lake’s water has a layer of green algae.
  • Blue: blue we don’t see a lot of but I want to make a connection to Oliver Bird and his weirdo ice cube in the middle of the astral plane.
  • Indigo: indigo represents his love and his lust for Syd. When they do the mirror kiss, when she goes to talk to him in the middle of the night at Summerland, when they sleep together for the first time.
  • Violet: also hesitant to make a connection but I want to talk about Lenny in Chapter 5 and the old house. And how we finally see the true evil and madness within.
  • White: when a rainbow-colored top spins at a certain speed, the colors blend and form white. Which is what I think happens to David, when all his personalities or moods come together and stop fighting each other for one second, he relaxes and feels safe. So when Walter shoots at Syd and David, Syd screams the white room, the place where they genuinely touch each other for the first time. The safe place.
I’m Home

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 3, 261

Warning/s: Mentions of death, Shouting, Violence, Angst and a little Fluff

Summary: Reader got sick so Steve decided to put her out of a mission, but reader doesn’t like it and ended up having a fight with his best friend, Steve. Steve asked Bucky to take care of her (bringing all the fluff into the story).Eventually, feelings were revealed. (Whose feelings? You’ll know once you read it ;) )

A/N: This was previously uploaded in a different tumblr account, but she deactivated (and I miss her soooooo! :( ) so reuploaded it here. I submitted this for a Christmas drabble challenge wherein we right a fic based on a Christmas song. Mine’s Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer. (Y/N = Your Name, Y/F/N = Your Full Name)

Keep reading


“Skam Imagine Part 1: Chris Schistad cheers you up at your surprise birthday party”

Inspired by Fickle Game by Amber Run

warnings: Chris is the world’s best kisser, pass it on

[I do not own the gif above!]


You’d had many dreams about coming home to house a chaos and screaming, in fact it was one of your most recurring nightmares. Mind you, it usually involved watching your family get murdered or something only of nightmares. Coming back from the library to find half of your school already waiting at your house was just as traumatizing. You didn’t think even three quarters of the partying teens knew who you were, but no one passed up a good party. 

Was it a good party? Were people going to talk about your birthday party for days to come? 

Maybe it wasn’t the end of the world. 

You knew it was Eva who had set it up but the way she opened the door with a sly grin and a big gift box that she kept shoving in your direction. You had taken the box and opened it before Eva tore it apart for you, not worrying about the beautiful yellow ribbon around it. 

“You’re giving me a dress?” Your eyes skimmed over the silky red number and internally cringed. It was gorgeous, absolutely stunning, but it wasn’t exactly… you

“Don’t look at it with such disdain, Y/N, it’s your size and everything. You’re going to be the hottest person here. Besides me, obviously, but it’s your birthday so you get to be second hottest.”

You gave her a pointed look and then glanced back down at the dress. It was insanely gorgeous, and it was your birthday. Maybe you could wear it just this once? 

“But really, it’s going to look amazing. And Kåre is here, so not only can you ask him out finally, but you’ll be in the perfect outfit.  

Somehow you had wound up in the dress quicker than you would have thought possible. The mention of the boy you seemed head over heels for, for the past two years, was at your party. 

You bounced down the stairs and gave hugs to your friends who seemed a little tipsy and quite excited to see the birthday girl. Noora handed you a gift, too excited to wait to give it to you, and you opened it quickly. Noora always gave the best gifts, usually from second hand stores or homemade. And every single one was chosen with love. 

You look at the silver bracelet that had an amethyst stone in the middle, a small hairline fracture down the middle. It was one of the prettiest thing you’d ever seen and instantly recognized it from the homemade jewelry store across from where you worked. You were always tempted to buy the entire store. 

“Noora, it’s beautiful, thank you so much,” you gushed to her loudly. 

She gave you another hug and Chris came bounding around the corner in one of her crazy outfits that always looked fabulous on her. She gave you an almost forceful kiss and grabbed you by the shoulders. 

“I’m poor, Y/N. But I’m a damn good kisser,” she exclaimed drunkenly, making you laugh and hug her tightly. 

Eva suddenly was leading you away from the other girls and pushing you in the direction towards him. Kåre was standing only a few feet away, a drink in his hands and one of his friends by his side. His black hair was covering his eyes and your hand twitched, longing to reach out and push it out of his face. 

That boy had totally consumed your thoughts. 

“Kåre, have any words for the birthday girl?” You flinched at Eva’s incredibly loud voice and froze when he looked right at you. Eva seemed to slither into the crowd and abandon you to face Kåre coming right towards you. 

“Y/N! What’s up? I didn’t know this was your party!” 

You opened your mouth and closed it, twice, while trying to decide if you should be offended or not. It wasn’t a big deal, so he didn’t know who’s party he was it? It’s not like Eva had sent our pretty invitations or anything that he had been looking at for a week. At least you didn’t think so; you assumed she’d just spread the word at school. 

“Yeah, it’s my birthday. Gettin’ older,” you mumbled with a forced laugh. 

“Cool. You look pretty hot,” he said a little bluntly, making you realize he was definitely a little tipsy. You were dumfounded at first, even excited, that he found you attractive. Then you felt insanely awkward. 

“You too,” you said shakily, hoping he didn’t realize how nervous you were. The two of you’d had classes together and even group projects, but you’d never really talked that much. Not outside of classes at least. 

“Anyways, I have to find some of my friends. And tell your friend, Eva I think, to come find me later.” He winked at you and seemed to disappear so quickly you wondered if he had even been there. 

What did he mean about Eva? 

Realization dawned on you and you slowly felt every part of your body crumble into a thousand pieces. Every little bit of hope that you’d had for you and Kåre disappeared. He was into Eva. Suddenly your birthday, your dress, and even your friends couldn’t cheer you up in the slightest. You turned away from the crowd of people in your living room and decided to hide in the kitchen. 

The two people making out against your counter seemed slightly irritated that they were no longer alone and scrambled out, not noticing your depressed expression. 

You saw of the alcohol used to make drinks out in the hall and grabbed the bottle of peppermint vodka like it was a long lost friend. The smooth mint flavour burned down your throat deliciously and and four shots later, you felt like your body was humming. Getting drunk wasn’t your style, but you did enjoy the warm and fuzzy feeling a little bit could give you. 

Unfortunately it was only moments later that the tears began to flow down your cheeks like rain drops against a window pane. You grabbed a cloth from one of the kitchen drawers to wipe your eyes but you were crying too hard to really make a difference. 

When was the last time you had cried like this over a stupid boy? Your friends used to warn you about him too, saying he was too into himself to be smart and notice you. 

“I’ve seen many girls cry at parties, but I have to say, you look the most heartbroken, elskling.” The voice startled you and you looked up at it’s owner with wide eyes. 

Never in your young years had you imagined Chris Schistad calling you ‘darling’. Never in your young years had you ever actually imagined him showing up to your party though either. It was like a rare sighting of an endangered animal. Or a unicorn for that matter. 

“I’m trying to suffer in silence.” 

“Somebody is snippy when they’re sad,” he commented with a hint of amusement in his tone. You shot him a glare but by the way his lips curled into a smile, you knew it wasn’t very effective. 

“Up up, elskling,” he said motion to the counter that you were leaning against. You shook your head and his gaze became harder, more demanding, but oddly still kind. You rolled your eyes and did as he asked. 

“So tell me, what does it take to make a girl cry on her own birthday?”

He knew it was your birthday? Chris was full of surprises apparently. You couldn’t decide if you were more shocked or flattered. 

“Stupid boy wants to fuck my best friend,” you said bluntly, reaching for the bottle of vodka again. Chris lightly slapped your hand away and grabbed the bottle for himself, taking a couple of swigs and putting it out of your reach. 

“Drinking won’t solve anything,” he said pointedly before resting a hand on your thigh. You looked down at it and felt a small rush in your head, from the alcohol or maybe from the effect of Chris touching you. “If he makes such a nice girl cry, fuck him.”

“Thanks but already I tried actually that,” you retorted with a miserable pout. Chris choked on a surprised laugh and moved slightly closer to you on the couch. 

“You’re funny too, why haven’t I see you around at school?”

You looked away and pretended to be deep in though, biting your lip gently. “If I had to take a wild guess, I’d say it’s probably because I’m not much to look at. I’m not your type.” 

He took a sip of his drink and watched you carefully for a moment, his eyes slipping over your body as smooth as the alcohol that had rushed down your throat earlier. You felt your body numbing and you wondered if Chris Schistad really did have magical powers. Here he was talking to you at your own party; you supposed anything could be possible. 

“I beg to differ. And while I truly appreciate that dress,” he said with a longing sigh, a little too suggestive, “you’re really, really too pretty for some asshole to ruin your birthday.” 

Your stilled and Chris’s hand moved up your thigh to where your own hand rested. You prayed he wasn’t going to just shove his hand down your pants and be that guy and was pleasantly surprised when he put his hand over yours. The rough yet incredibly warm hand covered your own and matched the warm feeling in your chest from the alcohol. Perhaps Chris Schistad was his own form of alcohol. 

“Maybe we just hadn’t found the right time to meet then,” you suggested in a low voice. 

He gave you one of his wicked smiles and nodded, tossing his blonde hair out of his eyes. “Now seems pretty good though, doesn’t it?”

Before you had a chance to nod, he’d gently pulled your thighs apart and pressed his body between them, resting one hand on your cheek and the other on your back. You breathed in, regretting it a moment later when his lips touched yours, so gently you almost didn’t feel it. 

Worrying he would pull back, you breathed him in and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling his lips closer against yours. Something needy and passionate washed over the both of you and his teeth were tugging at your bottom lip while your tongue grazed his top lip. 

Soon his tongue was sweeping through your mouth, peppermint an overwhelming flavour on both of your tongues. You leaned him into, your back slightly arched, and his palm against your back sliding upwards, pushing your shirt with it. His pinky grazed your bare skin and you made a small sound in the back of your throat. 

He moved his hand back down and covered your exposed skin, his finger tips kneading gently into your lower back. Your finger nails tug into his neck and he stopped breathing for a second, seeming almost enticed by the quick sting. 

“Happy Birthday, elskling,” he whispered into your lips. 


A/N: This was so fun to write and since I’m looking for fun with these, I didn’t edit. Editing makes me uninspired and tired unfortunately. This is part one! I’ll try and write another part or two tonight :) 

Imagine the reverse of Clint Barton’s and Natasha Romanoff’s backstories.

Imagine Clint, an orphan, raised from childhood as a notorious assassin. “Watch out for Hawkeye,” they say, “you can’t hide from him, he sees everything.”

Imagine Natasha growing up in a circus, an acrobat. The Black Widow, the posters say, this tiny black and red thing in her web of ropes and ribbon. Imagine Natasha turned vigilante, turned Shield agent.

Imagine that they send Natasha to take down Clint.

Imagine that she traps him, but before she makes her move, she sees something behind those all-seeing eyes.

Imagine that she makes a different call.