chinese xianxia vibe

I love that one image from the manga where atem just like… looks like he has his hand on yugi’s lower back

edit: almost completely redone lol

this one:

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good shit: when a character with a reputation for being selfish and uncaring gets injured while doing something to protect others

good shit: when they pretend they’re not injured and did nothing to protect anyone, because they want to keep up that selfish reputation

good shit: when the characters they were protecting only find out about any of this when the character collapses from the injuries they’re trying to hide

GOOD SHIT: when the characters they were protecting frantically perform first aid/transport them to receive medical care, insist on staying by the character’s side until they wake up, then nurse them back to health

dragon jou

Looks like you guys did remind me to do this, haha.

Alright, here’s a small piece of Yugi’s romance novel, Millennium World, from In Plain Sight.

–

Heba was beyond feeling just nervous now as he walked the streets of the city with his fellow scribes. None paid him any mind as they quietly talked to one another, excited to work at the palace and temples. It didn’t matter where or even who they would work for, it’s just an honor to be an actual scribe in the pharaoh’s city!

The poor boy didn’t share their excitement, yes, he was honored, even grateful, but there was a growing dread in his stomach that he couldn’t understand. He felt like something terrible was going to happen, and he was sure it wasn’t just the effects having ridden for so long on the Nile…

His master approached the wall around the Great House, speaking with a few men who stood there, one dressed in clean fabric and golden accessories. Heba noted that his head was clean shaven, but he was decorated with inked marks on his face. His eyes were hard and cold, calculating, as he looked over the seven men in the group, until his eyes settled on Heba at the end of the line.

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Hannigoh: Prologue

Ryou Bakura remembered the summer in Wisconsin just after seventh grade. It was the only life outside of Minnesota he knew. His father had a contract job for three months constructing an addition to the Wisconsin Dells waterpark. His mother, a teacher, had the summer off, and Ryou was too old for summer classes by then. So they all piled into the nondescript family wagon and made the trip together.

On the road, Ryou hung his chin on his arms outside the window to catch the breeze. He could tell they crossed the border when porch flags turned from purple and gold to gold and green.

“We’re in Packers territory now,” his father had said, shaking his head. Ryou didn’t care much for football. His slender body seemed practically anemic in the pads. Nevermind that half the idiots that pushed him in the halls belonged to the city league. His father watched the games, though. Thomas Kay Bakura was a Vikings fan from birth and he’d dabbled in the sport in high school. Instead of charging lineman at a state college, he put that strength to cutting down trees for their wood stove and pouring concrete for a friend’s company. The work shirts hid most of the muscle, but barely. Not enough to keep him from drawing the eye of Ryou’s mother years back when she served him lunch at the Gravyboat Diner.

The company provided them a home to stay in at the end of a cul de sac. Turning down the street the first day, Ryou thought the blue two-story seemed happy to see them, big windows on the second floor like eager eyes taking in its newest residents. Ryou’d never lived so close to other people. At home, he needed binoculars to spot the roof of the nearest neighbor, and that was only in the winter when the thicket of trees around their vintage ranch home had gone bare in the cold. Here, he could see at least five of them from his room. Other construction families already settled in.

But more than the people, Ryou loved the pool. It sat above ground in a rectangle. Graying vertical planks held up Its sides. A crinkled blue tarp and a number of leaves covered the surface when they arrived. Ryou spent half a day getting rid of all of it. Then another two days disappeared getting the chemicals right and waiting for a man to come out and get the pump in order. After that, it was perfect. As much as he could, Ryou split his time between swimming and floating on an inflatable raft. It worried his mother–his pale skin burned so easily–but he took the time to douse himself in sunscreen every few hours to ease her fears. He loved the weightlessness of the water too much to do otherwise. No matter the sun or heat, he could stand neck-high in the water and be suspended. Cool, floating, but motionless. A body in a current.

Halfway through the summer, floating on his back, something cold and slimy dragged along the left of his spine. Ryou held his breath. Chest tight, he forced himself to stay motionless and focus on the blue of the sky. His mind went to the sharks his teacher had talked about in science class that spring. Mr. Green’d said their skin appeared smooth but was in fact made of so many teeth-like needles that it would shred your skin to touch them wrong. That most shark attacks were accidents because the animals just wanted to investigate you and all they had were their mouths. Ryou’d imagined they all struck you from below, but that wasn’t right. Many circled first, getting closer and closer each rotation, cutting off your exits. Others waited for you to tire from a cautious distance–days if they had to–hovering in your periphery. Ryou wondered what kind this was, quick or slow. How long he’d have to wait. Then he cursed at himself for being so stupid. This was a pool, not the ocean. Not even the Mississippi, where bull sharks had been known to swim far inland by mistake. Stupid, just like he was being right now.

When Ryou finally shifted upright in the water and swam to the ladder, he noticed his father at the kitchen window. He started to call out you’re home early but lost the words. The construction helmet still sat on his father’s head, shielding their similarly white-blonde hair. Each move Ryou made, his father’s eyes followed: the climb up the ladder, the few steps to his towel on a nearby chair. They stood out, dark and unblinking, despite the shade in the kitchen. Ryou forced himself to turn around, to see there was no shark in the pool, no fish or errant snake.

Only my imagination, he told himself. Even so, he stayed out of the water after that. Just to be safe.

Learn more about this story here and here. I’ll probably keep this story to small bursts on Tumblr, unless I write enough to justify posting it on a site like AO3. Had this thought the other day and it fit so perfectly for Ryou Bakura as Abigail Hobbs. 

Hope you enjoyed!

this started out as a palette thing but now it’s just a screencap redraw

Valentino’s Mirabilia Romae Haute Couture Show Fall 2015

when we fall

for @krazy-ky-sta-hatter​. marichat. angry kiss.

3rd prize for my 3,000 follower giveaway: 500+ words. 

WC: 908

His world is falling, falling, falling right before his eyes as Marinette slips from the banister ledge of the Grand Paris Hotel. It’s a simple slip, a clumsy slip as Marinette was just running seconds before from an akuma–and for some reason she thought it would be a great idea to get on the freaking barrier–but she falls none the less, tumbling over the railing. 

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Person: are you ready for Gravity Falls tonight?! Me: *cries* no

This is awesome!!

Watch: There are some horrible stereotypes about curvy shoppers out there — these women are proving them wrong.

In collaboration with @fedex

I started crying while watching the video, and then I went to the website and saw this selection of checkboxes:

COMFORTABLE. NOT CONFIDENT. THIS IS HOW YOU FUCKING DO IT.

i tried my hand on human versions of mettaton and papyrus because my gay hand can never be stopped i’m afraid …..

It was bound to happen

Not a difficult choice to make for me. Blackice was a ship that sneaked up on me so quickly, and it never really left me yet. Gladly so, because now I can draw Pitch better hahaaha!

Happy Halloween~！