#pink magnum

[tubbytarchia]

Sorry, last one, swear!! I'll try and finish this by the 10th and then I will leave you all alone. I'm experiencing some long missed joy in creating this, please forgive my impatient excitement

[sillyabtmusic]

♡ Keonhee in Oneus MVs ♡

[ziggy0-o]

old man floyd edit

[hanayanaa]

regarding the symbolism of V's glasses:

(plain text in read more)

** addendum: when she gets posessed in the middle/end of episode 5, and she's on the ceiling, her glasses fall off, because...gravity, duh.... but it symbolizes the loss of her true self in that moment, as well as telling the audience it's V that got posessed without having a character say it. the loss of the glasses also represents a loss of innocence, as she's actively being traumatized there, since she's still conscious, but unable to control her body as Solver uses her.

after N gives her back her glasses, she comes back to her senses, therefore returning back to her true self.

oh, the glasses she had during the sentinel fight were the same ones she had during her worker drone days by the way, if you look closely at the frames, the damage is the same! she had them this entire time....

pic 1:

discord message:

idk why but the glasses still on her mutilated fucking body hurts me so bad

like almost a representation of her innocence, or her true self

.....

brain blast

bc every time she has the glasses on or they're shown, she's her true self, or is coming to or revealing her true self

in EP 5 when N puts them on and she slowly comes to, and in EP 6 where she drops her defenses and is genuine to Uzi

(animated emoji of guy slamming the ground)

and the fact she's been carrying them this entire time, her true self never left her

her true self is still there, behind all the layers of hurt and fear, and all her defenses that she puts up

that kind and sweet and shy girl is still there...

the one who loves puppies and blowing bubbles and waving around dumb flags 😭

pic 2:

(replying to previous message i sent saying "ahhh...now that she's lost [her glasses].....")

brain blast..... before she always had them, but she was hiding them on her body, much like she hid her true self in order to protect herself, because she's so scared of everything. But now that she pulled them out and couldn't get them to hide them again, her full self is now always going to be shown, mostly anyway

but the shattering of her glasses means two things:

1) her protective walls coming down, being vulnerable and honest with her friends and teammates

2) her hope and innocence being completely lost. She's in despair. She really, really doesn't think there's any light at the end of the tunnel for her. She's given up. She's given up, and she knows she's either going to be abandoned or die, and that right at that moment, that place of death was the most peaceful option for her solemn scared mind. She would be free from her endless cycle of pain, and her body would be torn apart to never be able to be used agsin. And her teammates no longer care for her, so she's not hurting them by dying in this way, surely. Her and her body are no longer going to be a burden on everyone either. She can finally find peace, her expression at the end is solemn, but in a strange way, hopeful and at peace. Her only hope at that point was to be released from her pain, however.

10.3 hours !!!! 🎉🎉🎉

(referring to the total hours spent literally just ranting about V at that point LOL...it's like at 12 1/2 now)

[wrightmourmarriage]

i like the line "I'm not the one you need" on what do you want from me, idk how to explain it in a non-watermoury way but "the one" is so often used in the context of like, soulmates and the idea of being undeniably tied to another person's being and all, something that to an extent people have used to describe roger's and david's working relationship, and here he is fully rejecting it, all the while using the same language that roger used at their supposed relationship peak ("remembering games, and daisy chains" from brain damage). idk it feels like a lot of this album deals with imbalanced and unhealthy relationships as part of its main theme of communication (take it back is another example of this) and it's cool that there's one song that explores the feeling of what feels like david dumping roger for good

[pink-octopede64]

There was a murmur of assent from a small cluster of hobgoblins round them, which was broken by a high, thin laugh from the other side of the circle, and the cold air which followed the sound drove the hobgoblins into a tighter bunch. The wandering Will-o'-the-Wisps which had been straying dispersedly among the stones drew to-gether and moved toward the hobgoblins, who were on the south side of the circle, but the north side was not therefore dark; it began to shine with the blurred radiance of touchwood and corpse lights. From among the stones slipped queer, plasmic, shapeless forms, not unlike dis-torted shadows of the hobgoblins themselves, and the more dreadful to them for that. In ordinary times they would have trusted to their simple counter-charms and stood firm, but few, dispirited and war-weary as they now were, they drew back from the circle, and the corpse lights grew from a crescent to a horseshoe, and then closed into a ring. The thin laughter rose higher, and was answered from the sky by a distant droning sound, the whiffle of wind through the dry twigs of broomsticks. The whole air hummed with the sound, so that panic came upon the little bunch of good fellows, and they broke and ran helter-skelter in twos and threes. It was well for them that the things in the circle were waiting to greet the broomsticks, or they would have had little chance of escape.

~ Katharine M. Briggs, Hobberdy Dick (1955)

[alm0sthere]

<3

[szollibisz]

bimbofied him

they're girlfriends

[nerdyvocals]

Far Away (and Breathing Cleaner Air)

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: F/F

Fandom: Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies (TV)

Relationship: Lydia/Cynthia Zdunowski

Characters: Cynthia Zdunowski, Lydia (Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies), Edward "Shy Guy" (Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies), Pedrito "Potato" (Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies), Nancy Nakagawa, Summer Stock Girl (Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies)

Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Living Together, Suggestive Themes, Implied Sexual Content, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Cynthia Zdunowski, Period Typical Attitudes, Internalized Homophobia, Underage Drinking, kinda???, Google says the drinking age in California in '57 was 21, and they're not quite there yet, Domesticity, The inherent homoeroticism of doing your girlfriend's hair, Betaed, featuring the beta reader's obscure drink knowledge, The T-Birds love Lydia, So do the Pink Ladies, La Traviata, Symbolism, so much symbolism, A single use of the fuck word, for Emphasis, if you know you know, Mild Language, Clyde reference Fanwritten season two project my beloved

Language: English

Series: ← Previous Work Part 2 of Like Phantom Limbs

Stats:

Published: 2023-07-31, Words: 16,024, Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Words don't always mean what you might think. Home can be as simple as four walls where the world can't touch you. A family is a group of friends who love and support you as you are. Sometimes healing involves breaking further apart, even years later. And loving someone means helping them put those pieces back together.

(Title from Icarus by The Crane Wives)

Notes:

Massive, massive thank you to my dear friend who enabled my hubris and betaed this for me, @look-at-those-niceass-rocks on tumblr (if you follow me there, you'll recognize them from the unhinged quotes lists as we watched the series together). Highly recommend getting yourself a friend like them; I said I wanted more Crane Wives lyrics for titles and they went through each song line by line and wrote down what resonated with the themes I was working with. This being over 16k words is entirely their fault.

Enjoy!

Note: this is a direct sequel to Steady, Steady. While it is not strictly necessary to read that one first to understand this, there are some references and symbolism that might go over your head otherwise, specifically in regards to my characterization of Summer Stock Girl.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

The summer of 1957 promised to be a warm one. The sun hung heavy in the sky most days, unobstructed by clouds, casting a hazy heat over central California. Not the best weather to move house in, but honestly? Cynthia didn’t think there was anything that could wipe the smile from her face this week. The house itself was quaint. Much nicer than the apartment she grew up in, that’s for sure, but small for the number of people that would be living there. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and, for the most part, six girls. 

The plan had been Jane’s idea, proposed in Olivia’s bedroom at a Pink Ladies sleepover during Christmas break. One semester at Stanford under her belt, and she was already sick of the dorms. Ranting about her nightmare roommate eventually turned into daydreaming about the five of them living together, which over the next few weeks, turned into a solid plan. A little house in between Rydell and Stanford, somewhere they could all get used to independence without sacrificing getting to see their loved ones. A place she, Olivia, and Cynthia could live year-round, and a nest where Hazel and Nancy could land when school breaks brought them back west.

And with an odd number of girls in their group, it was only natural that Cynthia brought up Lydia. To make it even, of course. She endured the teasing and kissy faces with a thrown pillow and a promise to give each of them the same treatment when she inevitably caught their boys sneaking out in the mornings.

For all their teasing, they were all very encouraging about bringing Lydia into their midst. She had never formally joined their gang, but she’d never been excluded, and they had never treated her any different than the other partners, and for that, Cynthia was beyond grateful.

And so, now, six months after that conversation, two weeks after signing the lease, her girlfriend was moving into their shared bedroom, and her face hurt from the grin that had been plastered there since the night before. A tired sigh made her look up from the clothes she was hanging in the closet and she watched Lydia set a box atop a small pile.

“Last one!” she breathed out, exhausted, wiping a hand across her brow as she walked toward the foot of the bed. There, she turned on her heel, arms wide, to fall backward on the mattress.

Cynthia chuckled at the sight. She moved, almost unbidden, from her spot against the wall, crossing the room in quick easy strides to sit on the bed next to her girlfriend. She leaned over the other girl, arm propping her up on her other side as she pressed a kiss to the spot between the girl’s closed eyes. Lydia preened at the affection, and Cynthia felt her arm wrap around her waist, holding her in place.

“Having fun yet?” she asked, and Lydia laughed.

“After eight months of shitty dorm mattresses,” she replied, relaxing further into the plush duvet, “you have no idea how good it feels to lay in a real bed!”

Cynthia trailed the back of her finger along the slope of the other girl’s cheek, tracing a pattern only she could see. Lydia finally pried her eyes open and caught her gaze, a storm meeting the sea, and Cynthia moved her hand to cup the other side of her face.

“Our bed,” she whispered, reverently, as if she couldn’t believe it. Lydia’s smile broadened into a toothy grin.

“Our bed!” she agreed.

(Continue reading on ao3)

[kiwiplur]

Day 3: Draw a pony throwing caution to the wind / Draw tiptoeing around danger.

Here's two characters I don't get to draw very often, and together no less! Iron Magnum may be a cop, but she's also got a decent head on her shoulders. Pink Mohawk doesn't make a habit of owing favors to pigs, but she took in a close friend of his when nobody else would. Today she's cashing in.

[skipperdani]

First Magnum and Pink Ladies got cancelled and now Watchful Eye?? Talk about a bummer summer.

[wolfsong-stables]

Brookside Pink Magnum

He's one of my fave models in my collection (I love roanies) so I took him out for a morning photoshoot in the yard 💕

[threestrideseq]

Meet the Horses

Show Name: Brookside Pink Magnum

Barn Name: Brookside

Breed: Welsh Pony

YOB: 2012

Owner: Brittney Hanson

Discipline/Level: Has been successful in the Children’s Jumpers and Training level eventing

[dotwpod]

(344) DotW Featuring 'The Swell' and 'Tame The Lightning'

Disciples!The guys are back together and Nate recaps his recent journey back to the motherland (Minnesota) as well as armed alien gas station attendants. Or something like that….We also share some tunes from ‘The Swell’ and ‘Tame The Lightning’ that you’ll enjoy. So turn it up and stay heavy! \m/ 0:00:00 Intro0:38:49 What’s Nate Been Listening to? Artist: Bob Marley and the Wailers…

[basketpresswines]

Basket Press Wines

Website: https://www.basketpresswines.com/

Address: London, United Kingdom

Basket Press Wines specializes in organic, low-intervention wines and ciders from Central and Eastern Europe. Offering a diverse selection of products, including Pet Nats, Sekt, Cremants, Whites, Orange (Skin Contact Whites), Pinks, Reds, Dessert Wines, Mixed Cases, Magnums, Large Format, and Non-Alcoholic Drinks, they ensure free UK-wide delivery on orders above £120. Their focus is on quality and authenticity, catering to wine enthusiasts seeking unique and traditional tastes.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/basketpresswines/

Keywords:

Red wines

White wines

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Natural wines

Orange wines

Sparkling wines

Wine delivery UK

Mixed wine cases

Sekt

Non-alcoholic drinks

Organic wines

New-world wines

Magnum bottles

Sweet dessert wines

Alcohol-free beverages

Pink wines

Old-world wines

Cider collection

Cremants

Rosé wines

Large format wines

Pet Nats

Low-intervention wines

Premium white wines

Rich red wines

Wine enthusiasts

central european wines

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non alcoholic drinks

traditional european wines

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artisanal ciders

crafted pet nats

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non alcoholic drink choices

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crafted pet nat options

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handcrafted cremant assortments

varied white wine assortments

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sumptuous dessert wine choices

assorted mixed wine cases

magnum bottle assortments

premium large format wine options

non alcoholic beverage assortments

[nereidprinc3ss]

fixation

in which you love spencer reid's hands so much you could... well, you could practically eat them. or at least let him put his fingers in your mouth.

18+ (fluff, suggestive) warnings/tags: finger sucking...lol....., established relationship, ummmm d/s adjacent dynamics, like softdom spencer but there's no sex, pet names, teasing a/n: this was inspired by @gublersg1rl who said 2 nights ago she would suck spencer's fingers as he was reading a book. my beautiful angel with so many great ideas in her beautiful head. anyway this will not be my magnum opus in terms of quality but its just a fun short little thing I hope u like :D

Spencer is reading. 

He got home forty five minutes ago, and he’d hugged you and he’d kissed you—and they were good hugs and kisses, but as you sit curled on the opposite end of the couch from him, watching him read, it doesn’t feel like enough. Three days isn’t the longest he’s been gone, but you missed him like he was gone longer. And now, he’s not truly ignoring you—but he’s not giving you enough attention. It’s unintentional, but it’s making you feel all kinds of needy and overly-affectionate anyway. 

Especially when he’s so gorgeous. Ankle crossed over knee, lithe fingers skimming over the page to keep track of his place. Those hands are truly distracting. It’s unlike you to be struck by such wildly inappropriate thoughts so out of context, but here you are, having been without him for days, practically feverish on the couch as you imagine all the things they could do. All the things they have done. The way they've traced down your bare spine, up your side, so lovingly in the middle of the night... how they've touched you elsewhere...

And... that's enough.

Despite the whole committed relationship thing, you still feel a bit scandalized picturing him like that. And you know from experience these thoughts will only get worse if you stay over here, staring at him, wanting him, so you crawl across the couch and under his arm, settling your head in his lap and looking up at him expectantly. He chuckles—a quiet, dry thing, that says he’s only partially surprised by your behavior. 

“Well hello,” Spencer says, taking one hand off the book to settle on your leg. 

“Hi.”

For a moment he just studies you, affection seeping into his eyes along with the humor already there. “Can I help you?”

“Mhm.”

His brow darts up. 

“With what, baby?”

Baby. Your whole body tingles. He only calls you that when he’s feeling especially soft toward you and your whims. In turn you soften, and you both become rather mushy. 

Unfortunately your brain is not excluded from melting, and you look up at him helplessly. 

“Um…”

Spencer’s hand falls from your knee, taking an unnecessary but appreciated route down your thigh and up your stomach before settling on your cheek. He brushes away a few baby hairs before two knuckles begin drawing soft lines from the corner of your mouth up toward your ear and back again, and your stomach becomes a hail of butterflies. He’s got this soft smile on his face and you love him so much and he’s so sweet and perfect, you could just—

You’re not thinking very clearly when you tilt your head, angling your chin up until you catch his fingers against your lips. His eyes remain on yours as he traces the shape of your mouth with those same two knuckles—until you’re slowly parting, obstructing his path and offering a very different kind of invitation. Spencer’s eyes narrow fractionally and you watch the way his focus changes, the way he only tests the waters at first, letting the tips of his fingers trace the length of your bottom lip, before barely tugging down just enough to feel the soft warmth of the border of it. They skate over the ridge of your teeth and find the tip of your tongue, at which point you can’t help from closing your lips around his fingers, eyes fluttering contentedly as you draw them deeper into your mouth. His brows draw together, and those pretty pink lips part soundlessly like you’re the eighth wonder of the world in a way that has your thighs clenching. You hear the book shut and fall carelessly to the side table. He doesn’t even bother saving his place—too busy bringing that newly freed hand to your hair and combing gently against your scalp. 

It’s strangely calming to have him like this—he’s undeniably with you, undeniably close, against your lips and tongue. All your worries about his distance dissolve and you feel incredibly comforted. With his other hand, his thumb begins stroking a line from the bridge of your nose up your forehead, and you could pass out. 

“Comfy?” He asks after a long moment, slowly withdrawing his fingers from the heat of your mouth. You pout. 

“I was.”

Spencer hums, eyes soft on you. “I don’t think I should be nurturing your oral fixation, angel.”

“You didn’t like it?” You challenge, turning your head inward to nose at his stomach. He  cups your cheek with damp fingers and pointedly turns your head outward again. If he wasn’t so blushy and flustered and cute you might’ve cared more about the feeling of your own spit on your skin. 

“Don’t make it about me.”

You allow a minute to pass in silence. 

Fine.

“I liked it,” you say shyly. 

Spencer’s response is deeply fond as he smiles down at you. “Did you?”

Like he couldn’t tell. 

“Mhm. You should let me do it all the time.”

His smile flickers wider the way it does when he’s about to tease you. 

“I don’t know if you deserve it. I don’t know if you can be good all the time.”

You make a face. “Shut up.”

“Is that what we say when we want something?” Before he can pull his hand away, you nip at his fingers. He laughs. “You’re off to a terrible start. I think you need to work on your manners. Not bite the hand that… goes in your mouth.”

“Is that the saying?”

“I’m pretty sure,” he nods sarcastically, helping you up until you’re sitting across his lap. He lovingly tucks hair behind your ear, eyes warm as they flit across your face up close. “You know, that was incredibly unhygienic. So much bacteria it boggles the mind.”

“Yeah? That kinda turns me on.”

Spencer leans in to kiss you sweetly, choosing your mouth over his worry about bacterial transmission. “You are so psychologically concerning,” he whispers against your lips. You sling your arms around his neck. 

“Because of the bacteria thing or the oral fixation thing?”

His hands settle on your hips. “Both, lovely. For so many reasons.”

It’s only another tease, but you pull back anyway so he can see the full force of your pout. “Don’t say that. It’s mean.”

“I was kidding! It was a joke. I was joking.”

“It was mean.”

“Okay,” Spencer begins, patient and happy to untangle this ridiculous snag if that’s what it takes to make you content again, “Freud’s psychosexual stages of development are contentious at best. I’m not worried about your oral fixation because I don’t really believe in such a thing. I was just teasing you, but I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.”

“So you’ll let me do it again?”

Spencer pulls you back into another kiss. 

“You’re kind of insatiable, you know that?” 

When you don’t answer, only wait for him to respond, he sighs goodnaturedly. 

“You know you can have any part of me whenever you want it.”

You give him a winning smile and kiss his cheek in reward. 

“You’re so nice, Spence.”

“I thought I was mean.” 

“Now you’re nice.”

“Because you got what you wanted?” You nod enthusiastically. He seems not quite as thrilled, though perhaps distantly amused by his own helplessness when it comes to you. “Yeah, I feel like that happens a lot, doesn’t it?”

But it clearly doesn’t bother him that much. He’s still smiling when you kiss him again.