I’ve selected a few potential ensembles for the racetrack but I have also sewed you this. What is it? A garter…
will byers stan first human second

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I’ve selected a few potential ensembles for the racetrack but I have also sewed you this. What is it? A garter…

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‘What are relationship goals’ - TheThirdPew
Palace Poznanskiego, Lodz, Poland.
melodyy-pond:
callmekitto:
heroesque:
xfrecklesandtea:
chloroformedpsycho:
robin-sparkles:
Oh man, I cried so hard when Fred got eliminated from America’s Next Top Model.
7 Weasleys stand before me but I only have 6 photos in my hands.
The Weasley who is not called must immediately pack their bags and go home.
Only 6 Weasleys will continue on to be America’s Next Top Model.
I WAS ROOTING FOR YOU. WE WERE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU.
NEVER IN MY LIFE HAVE I YELLED AT A WEASLEY LIKE THIS.
WHO will be america’s next top weasley?
so this is how we’re coping now
It HUUUURTS. :(
Who said we were coping? :(
Emma did not appreciate whatever this nonsense was. One moment the minds she felt around her felt perfectly normal,angry and fearful perhaps, but still. Normal. This was clearly not normal. Suddenly, the minds seemed convinced she was in 1972. Which was ridiculous, utterly impossible, and yet-
She convinced one of the women nearby to take her back to her home nearby and was ‘gifted’ with a set of… more fitting clothing. And started searching for any other minds that might have been displaced as she had. Following the thought trail, Emma stalked around, waving any humans off who attempted to speak to her until she found who she’d been looking for.
“You- you are not from here either, are you?”
Pietro had been met with a strange and very abnormal feeling, the second he had woken that morning. Nothing had seemed out of place or different in his rented one-room apartment, but since the second he left his dream-like state of sleep, a feeling of misplacement had been settling within him. Sure, he was not a big fan of the place he was staying, but a roof was a roof and a bed was a bed - even if it was a hardened spring bed. Spring bed? No, the mattress he had gone to sleep on had not been made with springs, or had it? In his morning haze, and quickly running thoughts, he had little time - and/or patience - to worry about the material of his (also rented) mattress (it came with the place, so it was his for as long as he payed).
He had left the place only seven minutes after waking. It had taken him six minutes to force himself to rise from beneath the covers, and then another minute to get dressed, brush his teeth, grab a little of the cash from the top drawer and then head out of the door.
In the real world - that still seemed unusual on this early morning - or what time was it exactly? He was about to reach for the phone in his pocket, when he realised that he did not have it. Hm. He had to have forgotten it at home. It bothered him only little, since he rarely needed it, and had it more because it felt necessary.
In the moment he had stepped out on the streets of Brooklyn, he had been quick to realise that something was off. Completely and utterly off. He was misplaced. He had been misplaced, for though the streets looked familiar, the settings and his surroundings were different. Very different.
At first he had thought of running. Just sprinting into the heart of Manhattan in hopes of figuring out what the hell was happening, but these strange tides did not make him feel comfortable about racing off into a crowd of... of people?
Caught in his own (racing) thoughts, with wandering eyes and painfully slow movement, someone approached him - someone he did not hurry past like the rest, for when he let his eyes fall on the person, the stone in his stomach grew a bit smaller and much lighter.
He did not know what it was about her, but he knew, just by looking at her, that she felt the same... strangeness as he did. Perhaps it was her choice of clothing? It stood out, but in a normal toned down way. The kind of clothing that would be considered normal, fashionable, where he had been just yesterday.
“No,” he had not intended to say that, because it was after all New York he was walking around in, wasn’t it? But when he spoke the word he seemed to sure that he was not from around here. He had never in fact been here before. “And I guess you aren’t either?” The accent gave him away enough to make it obvious that he wasn’t from America at all, but he had a feeling that that was not what she had meant.

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“My dear, dense brother. We’ve been sent back in time.” Her face would break in half if she smiled any bigger. It had been– how long had it been since they’d seen each other last? She launched herself at him and felt the ache in her chest ease. “I’ve been searching for you for months, you idiot. How is it that I finally find you in nineteen seventy-two?” Her words were muffled as she spoke into where her face was pressed in his shoulder.
Pietro, who had not been entirely sure of who he had been speaking to, was taken by surprise as a voice answered - though it was the person carrying the answer that managed to catch him completely off guard.
Right there - as in right in front of him - a smaller person stepped closer, dark hair with wide eyes and a grin brighter than any New York neonsign. It was her he had been searching for since the moment he stepped into the concrete jungle, and her he had been upset to never dump into on every corner he passed.
For once, perhaps the first time ever, time seemed to move too fast for him. It had to be the overwhelming feeling of not quite believing what he saw... Whatever it was, the bright eyed girl swung her arms around his neck a second before he got a chance to react. He stood stiff for a short moment. Too much. The emotions were too many and he felt them too strongly, but when the speed of his nature caught up with him, the ocean of feelings seemed to carry him rather than drag him down under, and this ripped him out of his trance-like state.
Though there was nothing he wanted more than to feel her small arms around him again, the feeling of colliding with something not quite real made it impossible for him to press her closer. Instead he raised both arms, and placed a hand on each of her shoulders, before slowly, gently, moving her away from him. He heard what she said. He heard the excitement and the joy, but he had to see it for himself, and when he did. When his eyes locked with hers, the doubt faded like snow in the sun, and his face split into a wide grin, dancing from one ear to the other.
“Wanda?” he breathed in true, almost unreal, euphoria. The whole part about time and 1972 slipped right past him, for those matters seemed very unimportant in the moment. “You... Wait,” still with his hands on her shoulders, his smile turned into a wry smirk. “I have been looking for you everywhere! And hey, I am much less of an idiot than you are.”
“Did I not get the news of some sort of street festival?”
One has a hyper-fast metabolism, the other uses mental telepathy. He’s fast, she’s weird.
wanda and pietro + reassuring and helping each other with touches
Watching shows where you know no character is safe and you just look at your children like

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honestly the fact that the typical leading male hunky blonde dude is, get this, the sidekick to Wonder Woman in a female lead superhero film is what gets me out of bed in the morning
Surprise Quicksilver in in Deadpool #5 !
Avengers: Age of What The Actual Fuck Is Going On Here? - according to the Maximoff Twins
Pietro: I'm cold
Clint: ...
Pietro: *nudges Clint* I'm cold...
Clint: ...
Pietro: I'M COLD
Clint: No way am I giving up my comfy jacket
I get why a lot of people hate the whole princess culture aimed at little girls. There’s a hell of a lot of toxic bullshit in there.
But when I was a tiny princess, my dad used to be my royal advisor. He would come to me, and over tea we would discuss the problems of the kingdom. He would tell me that new people wanted to move to the kingdom, and ask me what we should do. Or he would tell me that the teddybears and the dolls were fighting over the enchanted forest, and ask me what to do. Basically, he took the trappings of the princess culture, and used it as a tool to teach me about leadership, civic responsibility, and compassion.
So if you have a little princess around, consider helping her figure out how to run her kingdom. There’s no sense in telling a kid they can’t be a leader, or that they can’t wear sparkles while they do it.
Parenting: You’re doing it right.
THIS. Seriously none of this “YOURE NOT ALLOWED TO LET YOUR LITTLE GIRL LIKE FEMININE THINGSSSS” bull crap. Show her that being powerful and being feminine aren’t mutually exclusive.
DO THIS WITH ALL CHILDREN PLEASE

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We fight robots
Felicia raised an eyebrow behind the mask. “Are you offering your number?” She asked with a flirtatious smirk. She wasn’t the most trusting person going so meeting a guy just because he had powers wasn’t going to instantly make her want him around but who knows? Maybe he wasn’t going to grate on her if she did keep him around but business and pleasure should never mix. Well, most of the time. Her business was her pleasure after all. “But no thanks. I don’t involve rookies.”
“Depends, do you want it?” He watched her, tilting his head a little to the side with a wry smile growing in one corner of his lip. He felt confident the least, and perhaps it had something to do with the way she acted towards him, or the fact that he had found her bleeding on the ground. Whatever it was, he liked the feeling it got him. He was amused.
Pietro raised both eyebrows and sent her a small nod, acknowledging her need to call him a rookie. He was not sure exactly what it mean, but he was quite sure it wasn’t something good, and he was even more sure that he was no such thing. “Not sure you could call me a rookie,” he hoped he had said the right word, “but maybe you should involve rookies, seeing that you ended up there,” he nodded towards the ground, “all on your own.”