acrimsonleather - Tumblr blog

[acrimsonleather]

Where do you belong? ( late birthday gift for @jamespotthrs )

[acrimsonleather]

“And then, one fairy night, May became June.”

— F. Scott Fitzgerald (via pagewoman)

[acrimsonleather]

[acrimsonleather]

Brooding forest creature that lurks in darkness. They love that they can sit in comfortable silence with you.

I made a generator to find out about your supernatural partner because human partners are out of fashion now

[acrimsonleather]

The Black Sisters

[acrimsonleather]

mothers day this fathers day that what about eldest daughter day

[acrimsonleather]

𝐒𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

3. Black Family

[acrimsonleather]

It smells and sounds like spring 

[acrimsonleather]

“I’m almost 50, and here is the best thing I have learned so far: every strange thing you’ve ever been into, every failed hobby or forgotten instrument, everything you have ever learned will come back to you, will serve you when you need it. No love, however brief, is wasted.” @louisethebaker on Twitter

[acrimsonleather]

forever is the sweetest con…

[acrimsonleather]

girl help they’re playing music that was popular when i was in high school and making me feel nostalgic for an era of my life i have zero desire to return to

[acrimsonleather]

pairing: cho chang x fleur delacour [implied]

setting: modern, non-magical, summer olympics au

word count: 637

notes: written for rare pair summer slam 2k21: like a virgin; based on this

Keep reading

[acrimsonleather]

accidentally stumbled upon these pictures on google and simply can't stop thinking about them? the potential luvs....

[acrimsonleather]

Love all my sensitive girls who make the most mundane things seem vastly more intimate and romantic

[acrimsonleather]

pairing: cho chang x ron weasley

setting: modern, non-magical, married in vegas au

story concept for rare pair summer slam 2k21: like a virgin [2 of 16]

Cho used to dream about her wedding day.

It would be late spring—the risk of a little light rain would be well worth the sweet, subtle scent of freshly blooming flowers—and the ceremony would take place in the quaint, elegant garden of a bed-and-breakfast somewhere in New England. She’d spend the morning drinking mimosas and getting her makeup done in the bridal suite with her bridesmaids, and her dress would be Vera Wang, sleek and white and mermaid-cut and covered in a delicate sheen of hand-sewn, gossamer-thin lace. Her father would walk her down the aisle. The groom would be unable to tear his eyes away from her. There would be roses and wisteria and glossy vines of ivy climbing up the latticed walls of the veranda she would say her vows on.

She would be happy.

She would be in love.

It would all be so, so perfect.

Cho marries Ron Weasley—yes, Marietta, that Ron Weasley—at approximately 2:30 AM in the Billy Idol Room of the Littlest Wedding Chapel four blocks east of the Strip. It’s early August, not April, and the only available “garden space” is a twelve-by-twelve square of grimy concrete out back that’s littered with squashed cigarettes and old, faded advertisements for massage parlors. There are no bridesmaids. There is no Vera Wang. Her father is in Sedona at an artists’ retreat, and the groom is too busy laughing at a shitty wax sculpture of Wayne Newton to even notice her stumbling towards him. The only flowers in sight are the fake plastic ones in her borrowed bouquet. 

The borrowed bouquet she’s, like, eighty percent sure they hosed down in the bathroom sink before giving to her.

Not that Cho actually remembers that?

Or much of anything?

At all?

Specifically?

There was dinner with Percy and Penelope and everyone else at that steakhouse, béarnaise sauce and grilled asparagus and increasingly loud jokes about the two most boring people in the world hosting a week-long joint bachelor/bachelorette party in Vegas, of all places, and then there were slot machines and casino lights and yardstick margaritas and shot glasses with colored sugar on the rims and a blur of red hair, dark with sweat, and taut, freckled skin under her hands, laughter and thumping bass and a strong, heavy arm draped around her hips, bluntly callused fingers dipping under the straps of her dress, trailing up the inside of her thigh—

If it weren’t for the tacky gold container on the hotel floor—it’s shaped like a Faberge egg and has a curlicue-scripted MEMORIES plaque glued to the front—Cho wouldn’t even know she was married, let alone to Ron Weasley.

Ron Weasley.

Ron Weasley.

Ron Weasley, who’s currently staring, pale-faced and grim, at a streaky Polaroid of the two of them kissing—a showy, dramatic, her-legs-around-his-waist sort of kiss—and looking like he would rather dig his own grave than confront the fact that he’s apparently now married.

To her.

To Cho.

Should she be offended by that? Is she offended by that?

“Harry is going to murder me,” Ron says dumbly, staggering backwards and collapsing next to her on the bed. She’s sitting cross-legged, inexplicably wearing a slinky black bikini bottom and an oversized men’s v-neck shirt that smells like Old Spice and sunscreen. “Harry is going to—he went to cop school, you know? No one is going to find my body.”

Cho considers this for a while. A long while. The only sounds in the room—it’s a nice room, she supposes; shiny and modern—are the whirring of the air conditioner and the distant, arrhythmic dripping of the shower faucet. She’s a planner. A thinker. Careful, despite her innate curiosity; deliberate, despite her more natural impulsiveness. However emotionally she’d have liked to react to certain things in the past—certain events, certain tragedies—she didn’t. That’s not who she is. That’s not who she’s supposed to be.

How did she get here, then?

How did this happen?

[acrimsonleather]

RON WEASLEY x CHO CHANG, for @provocative-envy summer slam 2k21

There was dinner with Percy and Penelope and everyone else at that steakhouse, béarnaise sauce and grilled asparagus and increasingly loud jokes about the two most boring people in the world hosting a week-long joint bachelor/bachelorette party in Vegas, of all places, and then there were slot machines and casino lights and yardstick margaritas and shot glasses with colored sugar on the rims and a blur of red hair, dark with sweat, and taut, freckled skin under her hands, laughter and thumping bass and a strong, heavy arm draped around her hips, bluntly callused fingers dipping under the straps of her dress, trailing up the inside of her thigh—

If it weren’t for the tacky gold container on the hotel floor—it’s shaped like a Faberge egg and has a curlicue-scripted MEMORIES plaque glued to the front—Cho wouldn’t even know she was married, let alone to Ron Weasley.

—— story concept: “the bro code” by provocative-envy

[acrimsonleather]

ron weasley didn't stand up to snape after he called hermione a know it all and lose 10 points from gryffindor defending her intelligence just for people to say he didn't appreciate hermione's genius enough