A collection of things I like and/or am obsessed with.
| She/Her | GreyAce 💜🤍🖤 |
| Artfol • Pamelo | AO3 • Pamelo |
My Stuff #
Robinwest is my Forever OTP. Even if I'm not posting about them, I'm still thinking about them.🧡💙
Judy stands at the window, arms crossed and a frown on her face as rain pelts the glass and trickles down—drop purling to drop in chaotic rivulets.
Across the yard, a branch snaps in the wind, and Judy’s frown deepens.
She’d pulled herself out of bed two hours early this morning with one simple goal in mind: go for a run before heading to the hospital.
Instead, she’s stood here in her bedroom watching her plans wash away in a downpour because, apparently, it doesn’t matter how many incredible advancements humanity has made (they’ve colonized another planet, for Christ’s sake), accurately predicting the weather is still beyond the scope of available science.
“‘Partly cloudy’ my ass,” she mutters.
The rain continues its incessant whipping, and Judy considers her second option: the treadmill. It’s right downstairs, and the workout library can replicate the exact route she planned to take anyway. But... It just isn’t the same. She much prefers running outdoors, in fresh, open air.
She’s up now, though, and it seems a waste to do nothing.
Judy huffs a breath, unable to decide. Her running clothes taunt her from the closet.
“Come back to bed...”
Don’s morning-deep voice draws her from her wallowing.
She turns from the cold, uninviting morning outside, to him—only half-covered by sheets, his exposed skin undoubtedly warm and tempting to be touched—then back to the window. To the lashing rain, and dangerous sway of the trees.
Frowning at the gray once more, she flicks the blinds a bit harder than necessary, shutting out the source of her irritation.
An irritation that begins to ebb the moment she sinks beneath the sheets, and into Don’s arms.
“It wasn’t even supposed to rain today,” she sighs.
“I know...” Don pulls her closer until her back is flush against his bare chest. As warm as she knew he would be. “But this is a nice alternative, isn’t it?”
The scratch of his stubble and softness of his lips grazing her shoulder sends a pleasant shiver up her spine. She covers his arms with her own, wrapping them tighter, nestling deeper as their legs intertwine.
“Mm. It’s okay, I guess,” she teases softly.
Don chuckles through another kiss to her neck, and slips one hand free from hers, trailing his fingertips up her arm. Ghosting from wrist to shoulder, shoulder blade to ribs, and lower, to glide under her tank top. He follows the curve of her hipbone down, and spreads his palm low on her stomach, drawing her body to meld even farther into his. As close as possible. Judy’s thighs press together at the motion, and she can’t help the soft moan that escapes her throat as she gently writhes against him, encouraging, desperate.
Like an echo to the slow, aimless drift of his lips on her nape, he caresses every chaste inch of her he can reach, setting her alight in ways only he ever could.
“Don...”
She feels his pleased smile drag up the side of her neck, and his breath flows heavily against her ear as his fingers edge downward now.
“If you still want that exercise, Princess...” His tone is gravel and honey and sin. “I’ve got a few ideas...”
OP: When I put on Hanfu, I suddenly realized that I'm a modern person.
(A growing trend among Hanfu enthusiasts is skipping elaborate traditional updos and pairing Hanfu with everyday modern hairstyles for daily wear. Many still opt for classic Hanfu hairstyles on special occasions such as visiting museums.)
I told my little nephew that I'd wave at his airplane when it flew over my house today, and he very calmly and politely explained that it wouldn't be possible to see me due to the limitations of human vision. I said he just had to squint real hard, and he took a deep breath and went into the toddler version of "see, what you're not understanding–"
I explained the concept of "blorbo from my shows" to my 71 year old immigrant grandfather because I referenced it in passing and I thought nothing of it, until today when he said "I think I'll watch peaky blinders tonight and see my blorbo from my shows" referring, of course, to Cillian Murphy playing Tommy Shelby
English isn't his first language so he's not super in touch with modern slang, so I've been accidentally teaching him to talk like a tumblr user. His favorite thing to say lately is "me when I'm a little hater" when he's like talking shit about the neighbor's son
I explained the “x before gta6” meme to my immigrant father and he, in turn, explained to me how back in his day in Romania, they had the same type of joke, except instead of it being gta6, it was about the imminent death of a singer named Gică Petrescu, who everyone was continuously shocked by because he refused to die. Every time a momentous event happened people would say, in essence: “This happened and Gică Petrescu hasn’t even died yet?!?”
So. He understood the gta6 meme immediately because they apparently had the same thing in Romania when he was young, except way, way more morbid
You would think this is a deep quote from a famous artist or writer or even philosopher, but no, it’s a line from fucking Detective Dick Gumshoe in the Ace Attorney series.
yeah i just love it when a character is in an escapable torment nexus for a huge portion of their life and it defines every aspect of their existence forever. also whats cptsd
I love your agreeable and amenable and flexible nature and how none of your wants and needs ever get priority and how nobody even knows what they are to begin with and how you never start or engage in conflicts and never express even mildly unsavory opinions and get along with everyone from every conceivable group, that’s so trustworthy. hey quick question. do you happen to have an enormous pressurized reservoir of rage and resentment you feel like you can’t ever analyze or express because that would break the rules for the kind of person you are and if so, do you think a lifetime of squashing it down might ever backfire?