I think it’s amusing how every morning, before I even know what I’m doing – or before I’m even awake – I’m out of bed, making my way into my kitchen, to the coffee maker. I honestly don’t think I’d be able to function without a cup in the morning. Well, maybe 2 cups.. or 3 depending on the day. I need to invest in one of those coffee makers that has a time setting so it’s already brewed when I wake up.

shiapolux  asked:

Vanna~ *snickers*

Send in a name or URL and I’ll describe what a child between them and my muse would be like. || @shiapolux & @cheeky-fox-navigator

Meet Lenalee. The smallest little shit of a child imaginable. She’s snarky and cheeky like her mother with the crude attitude of her father. She loves to pull pranks on others, and while she’s human like her father she in completely at home while in the water and is an extremely good swimmer. She enjoys diving down in shallow areas while searching for interesting fish and such, and just about anything that catches her eyes. Appearance wise she takes after her mother, but she is very tall like her dad (about 5′9″ ish when fully grown). She likes to wear shorts and big long sleeved shirts because it’s easiest for her to move around in while she’s off exploring the world. 

When it comes down to it though she’s actually a HUGE cry baby who will break down in front of her parents, aunts, or any of the crew members of her mother’s ship if she gets upset. Also she’s a total daddy’s girl and thinks he’s the coolest person alive even though he’s just a giant dork who looks tough. Although one could easily say she’s a momma’s girl because of how much she looks up to Vanna. 

The cushions on his back were begining to run thin as he listened to the welp in front of him drawl on about how his family needed help with all their food needs. Felicano sighed and layed down against the side of his chair, numb to the worlds problems and his people’s demands.

“I’m bored….remove him,” He said with a flick of the wrist, and two guards took the man, begging and crying away. He crossed his legs and growled at his boredom as another person came forth, whimpering slightly and dropping to his knees in front of him. Feliciano looked at the man amused, he looked like he would piss himself if he spoke to him.

“And what do you need little pauper?” He chuckled to see if he would, in fact, piss himself. The man nearly jumped and bit his lip before begining his speech on needing shelter from the elements this coming winter.

Felicano was bored, yet again, and leaned on the chair gazing past the man, at a work of art. The cleaning boy his parents had hired after the death of another servant was sweeping across the hall to rid the floor of unsightly dirt that the paupers brought in with them. Feliciano’s eyes were fixed on him, his muscles and the way his clothes fit so well over the Italian skin. He licked his lips softly before forcing his eyes away and looking down at the man whimpering.

“Take him away as well~,” He giggled flicking his wrist.

He kills her on a Tuesday and turns her blood into lemonade and everyone talks about sweet she really is.
—  Everyone’s Favorite Girl Goes Missing

i. typewriter clicks sound like the rattling of your teeth in the cold, like the sound of homemade wind chimes dancing in the breeze on the fateful night I told you that the angels themselves must have come down from the heavens just to paint on your scars with gentle kisses, to sprinkle the sparkle in your eyes and sculpt the perfect curve of your jaw.

but you told me you didn’t believe in heaven, and your eyes never did light the same way.

ii. it was as if the arsonist of your mind ran out of lighter fluid,
or maybe it was my endless tears and pleas for you to stay that diminished the embers.

iii. I stopped writing when I stopped believing you loved me because desperation is not unlike the wind; I cannot trap it, silence it, hold it in my hands.

iv. the only time my panic ceased was when I was home, behind locked doors. the wine red of the walls and the scent of pine and gingerbread candles used to surround me and keep me safe, but drywall cannot dry tears and I am the only ghost that wanders these halls.

v. your ribs are a xylophone that I trace my fingers along, memorizing the sounds you elicit when my hands dance across the surface. soft sighs get lost in the the droning of jet planes and whispering wind.

vi. the place where the sidewalk cracks and rises as if the core of the earth had heaved a heavy sigh and shrugged it’s shoulders right infront of the golf course feels like your sweaty palms and startling laugh.

vii. the water in the coffee shop lingers on my dry tongue and reminds me of heartbreak. it’s just like all other water, except for the simple fact that tastes like you.

viii. you told me that even if you had believed in heaven, the angels would have not been able to caress your skin because the devils in your mind would have dismissed them with a flash of their thundering dispositions.
I told you the angels would fight back, but you told me that angels know better than to try and restore light to hell.

ix. the day you left me you told me I was an angel, the closest thing to heaven you’d ever have, that you were sorry. it wasn’t until now that I realized you left me because you did not believe in me.

—  you never did believe in heaven, but my god, missing you is hell