#BLACKLIVESMATTER

Reblog if you're grateful for your internet friends

I made it

Pumpkin Patch {Frankie Morales x Reader}

Word count: 900

Warnings: none

Rating: PG

Summary: You and Frankie spend the day at the pumpkin patch looking for pumpkins to bring home.

Frankie gives your hand a gentle squeeze, continuing to walk down the path through the pumpkin patch. The leaves and hay crunched beneath your boots, the scent of fall lingering in the air.

Frankie came to a halt in front of one of the pumpkins, releasing your hand and kneeling down to get a better look at it. You kneel next to him, studying the massive pumpkin.

“This one looks nice,” Frankie says, gently taking the pumpkin and rotating it to check for any blemishes to the surface. You chuckle under your breath and shake your head, amused with his antics.

“Frankie, it’s ginormous. How are we even going to bring that back to the truck?”

He pauses for a moment, his head coming up to survey the small farm you were at to pick fresh pumpkins. He nudges your shoulder and cracks a grin, pointing at a wheelbarrow propped against the fence hatched around the pumpkin patch.

“You can’t be serious,” you say incredulously. Frankie’s smile never falters as he stands up, dusting the dirt from his pants and offering his hand to help you up. You take it reluctantly, shaking your head at him.

“Of course I’m serious,” he says cheekily. You roll your eyes as he laces his hand with yours and excitedly darts over to the wheelbarrow, his face lit up in a smile as he drags you along with him.

You can’t bring yourself to be annoyed when he looks so incandescently happy. He bunches up his patterned woolen green sweater around his forearms, taking a hold of the wheelbarrow and beginning to wheel it towards his pumpkin.

Suddenly he stops and turns around to face you, a smug expression painting his face. You freeze in your tracks, arching an eyebrow at Frankie.

“What now?” You ask suspiciously, eyeing him up and down.

“C’mere,” he says, letting go of the wheelbarrow and beckoning you over. You cautiously make your way over to him, stopping when you’re stood directly in front of where he’s at.

“Ok, what did you nee—EEED!” you exclaim, shrieking as Frankie picks you up and slings you over his shoulder carelessly, his laughter booming as he places you in the wheelbarrow. You hit his chest playfully when he finally sets you down, earning an expression of mock-hurt from him.

“Ow!” He says teasingly, only earning an amused huff from you.

“You goofball,” you mutter to him, his grin only growing larger at your words.

He chuckles a little bit as he starts moving the wheelbarrow, purposely swiveling it around erratically just to mess with you. You shoot him a glare over your shoulder, earning another fit of laughter from Frankie. You shake your head and let a smile cross your face, leaning back to give Frankie a peck on the cheek. His smile softens as he slows and eventually stops the wheelbarrow, patting your back as a signal to step out.

He helps you out of the wheelbarrow, taking your hand in his and gently assisting you in stepping out.

“Do you need any help lifting that thing up?” You ask as Frankie crouches to be level with the massive pumpkin. He hums under his breath, shifting the pumpkin in his hands to test the weight.

“I think I’ve got it, sweetheart,” he decides, taking hold of the pumpkin and lifting it from the ground, grunting at the weight.

“You sure?” You ask skeptically, watching him struggle to lift the gigantic pumpkin. He forces a smile and nods curtly, heaving as he finally manages to get up. He groans and turns towards the wheelbarrow, placing the pumpkin inside of it far more carelessley than he should have. You peer down and inspect it for bruises, smiling and clapping his back when you see there are none.

“You did it.”

“That… was harder than it looks,” Frankie admits, his breathing labored and his hands placed firmly on his hips.

“It looked pretty hard,” you say cheekily.

He rolls his eyes at you and grabs the handles of the wheelbarrow, swiveling it through the hay path and back to the car. You scuttle along beside him, wordlessly enjoying the quality time you get to spend with him. You loop your arm with his, leaning against him slightly as the two of you walk along the hay. Any time with Frankie is a good time, to you at least.

He stops the wheelbarrow in front of the truck, sighing when he realizes he’s going to have to lift the pumpkin into the trunk. He turns to you with a sheepish smile, gesturing to the massive pumpkin.

“Could you maybe help me out this time, honey?” He asks sweetly. You laugh a little and nod, stepping forward to help him hoist the pumpkin into the trunk.

He was right when he said the pumpkin was incredibly heavy. You struggled to lift it even with Frankie bearing most of the weight, grunting as you both hoisted it into the back of the truck. You groan when it’s finally secured, rubbing your upper arms.

“Guess we both got a workout in today, eh?” He says jokingly, leaning against the trunk of the car with his arms folded. You smile and close your eyes, shaking your head.

“I love you,” you say simply, opening your eyes to look up at him. His smile is soft as his hand comes up to cup your cheek, adoration written all across his face.

“I love you too,” he whispers tenderly, his lips meeting yours. His kiss is gentle and loving, his lips soft as they move against yours.

You couldn’t think of a single place you would rather be.

why are so many great writers leaving? It makes me sad that so many are leaving and that we cant read their content anymore or even say goodbye :(

tumblr used to be a safe place for so many of us, but recently, with the waves of unnecessary hate and bullying, many writers are discouraged to continue writing and don't feel that spark of happiness they used to feel while logging in.

if you're a content consumer, please support your favorite writers as much as you can; leave comments, reblog with tags or a little something like your favorite quote, leave an ask telling them how good their work was and you're endlessly thankful for the time they put in this... too many writers feel like their efforts go to waste because they think they "don't fit in" (this is what a writer friend of mine told me before deactivating, i'm just using her own words here).

writing is fun, it's a hobby for us. so when it slowly turns into a task, something we have to do instead of something we want to do, this is when many of us decide to leave

This is why I don’t tell 99% people im bisexual

The way people just dont have Shang-Chi in their radar is beginning to concern me a bit.

Like, I go, "Shang-Chi this and that."

And then its like, "I'm sorry what?"

"The new Marvel movie that's coming out."

"Spiderman?"

Like, I heard Marvel is doing its absolute best NOT to promote the movie, and its just weird and sus to me. This is a marvel asian led movie, it should be everywhere, its important. For a corporation, it would make sense to promote it, if the social motivation is not enough. But its not happening. And its one of the few movies of this phase which actually interests me.

PopBuzz

Marvel fans criticise Disney for not promoting Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings

Marvel fans criticise Disney for not promoting Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings. 

Speak up. Raise awareness. People are dying.

Post made by this account.

Educate yourself here, here, here and here

Donate here

This post is everything. (via @sukunasfootrest)

La Belle et La Bete

Ghost!Ezra Prospect x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.7k 

Warnings: angst, mentions of death/poisoning, enemies to lovers, AU, cursing, brief mentions of NSFW, angst with a semi-happy ending, crying, lots of fluff

Summary: You’d been able to see ghosts for the entirety of your life, but the last thing you ever expected was to fall for one.

Beautiful ghost!Ezra fanart by @honestly-shite

You don’t remember when you began seeing the specters in your day to day life, believing them to be just oddly dressed people up until a certain point. You remember the day you realized that the people you saw were not living, however. You had pointed at a rather odd looking man in a top hat that towered over you, exclaiming to your mom about the funny hat. The man had smiled at you and given you a little wink, but your mother had gawked at you like you were the one with a two foot tall hat perched on your head. It became quickly apparent that you possessed a gift that those around you did not; a gift that you would have to keep a secret unless you had a wish to spend the rest of your days in an asylum.

They were everywhere, and the only way you could truly set them apart was the slight translucent quality to their skin and their often time-inappropriate clothing. As you grew older you realized that it was not, in fact, normal for adults to walk around in Victorian era garments, and for young men to be adorned in shiny metal armor.

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PLEASE, REBLOG . DON'T LIKE

Reblog if you’d be okay if your friend came out as transgender

let’s see how many transphobics we can weed out