#grass queues things

[ambiguousgrass]

born to celebrate neil banging out the tunes, forced to be bystander to homestuck day

[thebrandonkurtz]

[ambiguousgrass]

we're all so lucky that a cat can be orange. that's such an incredible color for a cat to be

[sayeed-966]

https://www.pexels.com/photo/brown-white-black-colour-9589413/

[fudgecake-charlie]

Was commissioned by the lovely @gammagoop to draw s1 empires lizzie and joel <3 This is my first time drawing them and I loved doing it!!

[ambiguousgrass]

[id: a small dog sitting on a carpet, it's head bowed with despair, looking at the viewer with the purest example of puppy dog eyes you could ever imagine. end id]

no fucking awoo. no awoo right now. its late. its not awoo time. its sleeping time. go the fuck to bed.

[proofinggentlewoman]

Peasant Woman Gathering Grass (1881) - Camille Pissarro

[ambiguousgrass]

[women name][numbers] has started following you

*shaking violently covered in blood holding a sword and shield titled block and report* "not for long she's not..."

[front-facing-pokemon]

[satanssquidgy]

If you say that reblogging things gives you anxiety or that doing anything other than liking a post gives you anxiety then you are chronically online, there is no excuse to not reblog a post there really is not

[quick-drawn]

trying to convince myself that i still enjoy playing this game —

Reiikon#11921

[samanthamulder]

hi

[ambiguousgrass]

[Id: an minecraft in-chat message sent by joe hills. "all rendogs go to heaven" end id.]

today on: messages that made me crack up more than they reasonably should

[fouryearsofshades]

hello, do you why we say hanfu for all dynasties when hanfu means han clothing ?

Hi. "Han" in "hanfu" refers to the ethnic group, Han people. Han people also referred to themselves as "Hua" or "Huaxia".

Modern Hanfu movement aims to reclaim the ethnic clothing of Han people, after it was forcefully banned in the Qing dynasty with the Queue Order. It is like Scots started wearing kilts again after the lifting of kilt ban imposed by the English.

Currently (2024), people who seemed to be wearing hanfu may be: 1. people who are into historical clothing only; 2. people who are into hanfu as a concept of ethnic clothing; 3. people who like alternative fashion; 4. people who are just dressing up as part of the tourist experience. A person maybe into all four things at once, or only into one of these four categories.

It is still a relatively young movement (~20 years) so the concept is still building. On top of that, this is a grass root movement so no one has a ultimate power to define the boundaries of "hanfu". Hence, within the movement, there are many schools of thoughts of what should be included and what shouldn't be. With archeological discoveries and fashion trend shifting, the hanfu fashion is changing rapidly as well.

We'll see.

[glitterjay]

ー picnic date

minors dni

jake x fem!reader

warnings public sex, pet names, fingering (reader receiving)

for @magyuhye <3

you were in your room, looking at your self in the full sized mirror in front of you. your boyfriend jaeyun had proposed a picnic date, and asked you to wear the prettiest dress you could find in your closet. you stood there admiring the flower pattern that went perfectly with the nice weather, and how it revealed just enough skin.

without thinking too much, you got yourself a nice water bottle downstairs, and waited for your boyfriend to arrive. soon enough, you heard keys jingling right outside your door. you boyfriend revealed himself as soon as the door opened, showing you that peculiar smile that accompanied him all the time. “you ready?”

on the way to the park, jake kept repeating just how amazing you looked, and how you were all his. the compliments never failed to make you feel extremely pretty, and also make your heat throb. your hand rested in the gear stick with his hand right on top. you loved that no matter what, jaeyun always kept contact.

~

you guys arrived at the beautiful park and settled down. the colors of the wonderful green grass and the tall trees went perfectly with the colors of your dress. jake sat himself right next to you, hand on your thighs at all times. you both giggled at random things, and admired the view before you.

as you watched some kids the birds eating a few feet away from where you were sitting, you felt something move under your dress. you looked down and realized your boyfriend’s hand was moving dangerously close to your heat, which was not a good sign considering you missed him. a lot.

“whats wrong, love?” jake asked, knowing exactly what he was doing. you simply shook your head, afraid your voice would betray you and crack if you spoke. he smiled at your actions, moving his hand in a blunt movement, making contact with your core. you couldn’t help but squirm a little, putting a hand over your mouth to stop any noise from being too loud.

this gave jaeyun the queue to slide your underwear to the side, caressing your folds with his finger. he covered your legs with another blanket he had brought in advance, this being his plan all along. “your legs must be cold, am i right? the breeze is a little chilly today” he pushed just the tip of his slender finger into you, teasing. he leaned in, nibbling your earlobe before speaking again “you look so pretty when you’re embarrassed”

you could feel your face turn even redder than it already was. you held onto his shoulder, hiding your face there. “j-jaeyun, don’t do this to me”. he giggled at your words, carefully inserting his full digit slowly into you. this made you bite his shoulder in response, scared of being way too loud and getting caught. “careful there, darling.”

he continued moving his finger, picking up the pace with every thrust. your entire world felt dizzy. you didnt know if the birds in your field of vision were real or part of your imagination. jake cooed at your fucked out expression. he decided to be a little bold, and with a smooth movement, he was hovering over you. with this new position, he was more free, and so, he added another finger.

you bit your lip, reminding yourself that you’re still in a public place. to some people, it might’ve looked like you both were playing. little did they know you were about to come undone right there and then.

“can- can’t hold it anymore”

your boyfriend smiled big, knowing damn well he was the one doing all of that. he wanted to take the blanket off of you, he wanted you to cry and scream his name at the fop of your lungs, he wanted everyone to know HE was the cause of such pleasure, but he held himself.

“go ahead, love. cum for me”

the pet name was enough to throw you over the edge, hand flying to your mouth to muffle your moans and cries. body left shaking at the adrenaline, embarrassment, and pleasure you felt at the same time. he left a kiss on your forehead, sitting straight on your side again, leaving you laying on your back. “fuck baby, we might have to go home soon and deal with this other problem.”

© glitterjay | tumblr

hello! one of two things here. first of all, i know today is october 2nd. i missed the first day, so i will be posting twice today. second, i suck at writing long scenarios so i apologize for that. if yall do like it tho, feel free to request more scenarios for other enha members (besides ni-ki and sunoo) in my ask! help this poor soul, i won’t be able to come up with things all on my own for the whole month

[wreckedandpolemic]

rollercoaster kinda rush - matty healy

in which you and matty take your daughters to the fair. part of the white and gold universe and promptober75 2024. 1703 words.

warnings: very brief mentions of parental fuckery wrt disordered eating, otherwise fluffy and sweet!

Your shoes sink into the muddy grass, and you curse yourself for picking out heeled boots this morning. Alanis is chattering away to Matty, clinging to him with one hand and munching candyfloss with the other. Most of your attention is focused on Fiona, who seems never more than a few seconds away from chaos; you’ve already had to reel her away from taking her own eye out on more than a few festival booths. Somehow, you’re following your nine-year-old daughter’s lead as she drags your husband by the arm past food stalls and dunk tanks and petting zoos until she comes to a stop in front of the tiny, rickety little rollercoaster.

“Oh, absolutely not,” Matty says, turning to you in desperation when Alanis looks at him pleadingly. “Sweetheart, that thing does not look safe.”

“But it looks funnn,” she whines, attempting futilely to pull him towards it.

You glance over at the ride; he’s right, it doesn’t look particularly safe, but all the kids coming off it are glowing with joy as they chatter away with their parents. Your hand shoots out to catch Fiona’s shoulder when she moves to dart off again. “Not a chance, Fiona June. You’re not tall enough, you’d just fall straight back out,” you tell her. She frowns, and you can sense a tantrum coming on. “Take her on it, and I’ll find something the twins can actually go on. Don’t be a shitebag, Matthew,” you chide, and he scowls playfully.

“Hey! You said we’re not allowed to say that! That’s not fair!” pouts Fiona, kicking at muddy grass. Vera jolts out of the way to avoid the splatter, scowling and rearing back to shove her sister.

Jesus. Every so often, you remember that they outnumber you, and you need to intervene before they realise it too. You crouch so you’re eye level with Fiona, careful not to let the hem of your coat brush the ground. “You can have a special chance to say it if you call your dad one, okay?” you grin, the expression on her face comically thrilled. “Just not too loud, alright?”

“Mummy says you’re a shitebag,” Fiona recites dutifully, to the giggles of your other two girls.

Matty gives a long-suffering sigh. “I heard, thank you, baba. Christ, I’m never gonna hear the end of this, am I?” He squeezes Alanis’ shoulder, shaking his head fondly. “Alright, Lani, c’mon. But you gotta promise to visit me in hospital when this thing knocks me out, okay?” he says, scooping her up amid giggles and depositing her on his shoulders.

You watch them wander up to the ride with a soft smile on your face, turning to Vera as they disappear inside. Matty huffs as he joins the back of the queue, wincing when Alanis tugs on his hair. “Sweetheart, I’m already balding, I’d like to hang onto what hair I have left,” he chides, and she giggles out an apology.

You grab Fiona’s hand, swinging it playfully. “Should we go and find another ride? Vi, do you fancy another go on the teacups?”

Vera shakes her head, pointing at the cart slowly creeping up the track. Fuck, it really does look rickety. “No, I wanna watch Dad being a shitebag,” she giggles. You fight to conceal your laugh as a cough, and she rolls her eyes, looking so much like you with the movement that your heart catches a little in your throat. “If she gets to say it, so do I,” she scoffs, and you kind of can’t fault her logic.

Anyway, she’s right, and you can vaguely make out the shape of your husband and eldest daughter on the coaster. And, fuck, are they right at the front?! Alanis is practically bouncing in the seat, and Matty is white-knuckling the lap bar. You know that his teeth are gritted to keep a scream from bubbling free as the coaster dips down the track. It’s rattling concerningly, but the pure glee on your daughter’s face is reassuring.

Matty’s face is grey when they emerge, and you laugh. “Was that fun?” you tease.

“No,” he deadpans in the same instant that Alanis yells can we go again?! Matty scoops her up, plops her back on his shoulders. “Why don’t we find something a bit calmer?” he says, shuddering a little.

“Bo-ring,” scoffs Fiona, but she’s happy enough to link arms with Vera and skip off. It works for you, too — Vera reins her in when she tries to wander out of your eyesight. There’s a little apple-bobbing stand nearby, and Alanis points at a comically large stuffed panda and insists she has to win it.

Matty looks at you imploringly, and you shrug. “You just paid for me to get my hair blown out. Can’t waste your money, can I?” you smirk, and he rolls his eyes and sets Alanis down. He pays the vendor for two turns, grimacing as he leans down to the barrel. Alanis giggles, happily dipping her face into the icy-cold water, and you try not to grimace at the thought of what else has been in it. But then, it gives you an excuse to slather Matty in skincare once the girls have gone to bed, and he’s so sweet when you get to baby him. 

Vera looks how you feel, and in the split-second you take your eyes off Fiona, she’s crept behind Matty and her hand is hovering over the back of his head. Her eyes light up with mischief when you grin and nod, identical smirks on your and Vera’s faces as she dunks Matty’s whole head into the water. You cackle as he comes up coughing and spluttering, wiping his eyes and catching Fiona as she tries to dart off. “You think that’s funny, do you, missy?” he mock-scowls, shaking his head like a wet dog and flicking water all over her as she shrieks in delight.

“Yes,” she giggles, squealing as Matty grabs her and flips her upside down, pretending to shake her down until she gasps out, “Sorry!” and laughs breathlessly. You smile to yourself, something warm and soft flickering to life in your chest. Even after nearly ten years, you’re always sure to catch onto these moments, let yourself fill with gratitude for the family you’ve built yourself, so analogous from your own upbringing. The sound of Fiona’s wild laughter draws you out of your reverie, suddenly conscious that she’s drawing stares. Fuck ‘em. You’ve never attempted to stifle your daughters’ fun for appearances’ sake, and you aren’t about to start. Matty could probably buy and sell any one of them, anyway.

Alanis, with her head submerged in the water, is blissfully unaware of what’s going on around her, coming up victorious with a shiny, red apple clutched between her teeth. “I won!” she shouts, muffled through the fruit.

“What’d you win, sweetheart?” you ask. “Oh, baby, don’t eat… that,” you sigh defeatedly as Alanis crunches away on the apple. You try not to think about how it’s been marinating in strangers’ spit for hours on end.

“Good for her immune system,” Matty shrugs, and you can only shake your head fondly. The vendor hands Alanis a comically large stuffed panda that you can already see Vera eyeing jealously as her sister struggles to fit it in her arms.

Matty, in his almost annoyingly perfect way, seems to have anticipated this, pulling them along to a set of simpler carnival games and buys the twins five turns each. Then another five. Eventually, they manage to defeat the coconut shy, Fiona coming away with a jellyfish she inexplicably names Mike, and Vera with a pink dragon (she offers you a haughty I haven’t decided yet when you ask its name). Of course, Matty ends up saddled with the jellyfish when Fiona runs off again, and you laugh as you fall into step beside him. Resting your head on his shoulder, you let him tuck you under his arm and soak up the heat of his body. “You know they aren’t going to let us put these in the boot, right?”

Nodding, Matty chuckles. “I’ve been playing Jenga in my head for the past fifteen minutes.”

“Could always leave Fiona behind,” you joke. “I feel like she’d thrive in the circus.”

“Oh, yeah,” Matty agrees. “She’s already asked me if she can start gymnastics.” You run through their weeks in your head, wondering if you could squeeze it in around Alanis’ drama club and Vera’s violin lessons and Fiona’s football.

Alanis grabs your hand and tugs on your arm. “Mum,” she whines. “I’m hungry.” She’s clutching her stomach dramatically, hunched over and groaning theatrically despite the full roast dinner you ate less than two hours ago. You look down at her, then realise what she’s spotted.

You scoop her up, hyper-conscious as her little chin digs into your shoulder of the fact that it won’t be long before you can’t hold her like this, so you squeeze her tight even as she squirms in protest. “Are you hungry for candyfloss, by any chance, bug?”

“Maaaybe,” she mumbles into your hair, and you and Matty share a grin over her head.

“Then we’d better get you some, Lani-girl. Can’t have you wasting away like this,” Matty says, shouting for Fiona as you sit at a picnic bench with your other two daughters. He returns with three thankfully-identical sticks of candyfloss, sharing them out and smiling imploringly at Alanis until she tears off a piece and hands it to him with a sigh. “D’you want a piece, darling?” You think about refusing the treat, thinking of sugar-sticky fingers and teeth glued together. But then you think of your own mother, how you never saw her eat more than a few bites at once, her constant insistence that she was full and watching her figure, how fucking long it took you to enjoy food again after moving out. There’s not a chance in hell you’ll let that happen to your girls, so you smile, open your mouth, let your husband feed you spun sugar. And as the sweet taste melts on your tongue and your eldest daughter groans gross, you don’t regret a thing.