and eye wrinkles

Danish Face Vocabulary

et øre = a ear
et øjenvippe = an eyelash
et smilehul = a dimple
en fregne = a freckle
en næse = a nose
hår = hair
hud = skin
en pande = forehead
en læbe = a lip
en mund = a mouth
pore = pore
et næsebor = a nostril
hage = chin
et øje = an eye
en rynke = a wrinkle
et modermærke = a mole
et øjenbryn = an eyebrow 
tinding = temple
en kind = a cheek
kæbe = jaw

¤this vocabulary is from fun easy learn advanced¤

Transference (M) – Chapter 06

cr. [X]

Summary: During a routine visit to the local bakery, you stumble upon an intriguing business card and figure, what the hell. The business arrangement becomes…mutually beneficial. Y’all know where this is going.

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Angst, Smut

Word Count: 13,167

Warning: Tantric!Hoseok, therapist/client relationship, sexual themes, BDSM, shibari, dom/sub roleplay, profanity.

A/N: This chapter is going to hurt.

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

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A Finite Amount of Love

The first time Rose did it, it was out of ignorance.

The second was desperation.

The third time she did not do it. If she had, it would have been purely malicious.

She resisted it the fourth time too, and the fifth, the sixth and the seventh. 

The eighth time she never got the choice: she died first.

The first, though—the first was Adam. An eager and honest bucktooth man with blond hair in ringlets that reminded Rose just a bit of her own. Adam was the first human Rose fell in love with, and it was different. It wasn’t her normal human love, that soft and gentle maternal kind. This love was bubbly and effervescent. It was walks alone just the two of them that felt giddy and new and anxious eager jolts in her mind of touching his skin and investigating his lips and getting close, close like humans do, in a way that wasn’t fusion.

And 58 was far too young an age, Rose thought, for Adam to fade. He burst out in sores that corrupted his human form and could not heal, would not heal, and no human could save him. So Rose did. Adam died, and Rose shed just enough tears to bring him back into existence.

Things didn’t change all at once. For years nothing was different than the novelty of Adam’s ringleted hair truly matching Rose’s. But humans experience the passing of decades different from Gems. Adam grew solemn when all his friends died. He made new ones. Then 50 years later, they all died as well.

Adam’s body remained healthy. But it seemed the human mind wasn’t equipped for centuries of life. Maybe humans had a finite amount of love packaged into them, meant to well up from the soul for 70 or 80 years at most. Adam ran out of love. He packed his things, just a single bag on his shoulder, and he told Rose he would leave forever.

Rose let him go, but her heart still broke, because Gems work on a much larger time scale.

Samuel was the next man in her life, a mere 30 years later, and he was spry, bubbly, energetic, overflowing with a sort of giddy love that Rose felt would last and last. She swept him up in her arms and spun with him on the briny beach front, her bare feet molding in the sand as they swirled and danced, day after day, year after year. She and Samuel married, as was a custom among Samuel’s kind, and he gathered a batch of humans larger than Rose had seen since the victory against Homeworld.

Samuel turned 75 faster than Rose could measure. He was gray and worn, thin and knotted at the joints, senile and immobile when Rose still wanted to dance with him on the beach. He did not wake up one morning, and it was too soon for Rose. She wept, honest heavy wet tears that poured the life back into a husk that dried too soon.

Samuel lasted another 75 years after that. But he burned down, slower than Adam but still the same. His human light died. He wept too hard for his family and friends, for the children of his first marriage and his children’s children, and their children… He grew solemn, and cold, and inconsolable, and one day he told Rose he wanted to explore the ocean with his infinite age. Alone. Without her. His human love had burnt itself to the wick.

The heartache hit worse. Rose gave her hand and heart and time to no other man for decades. Not the curious sailors who came hat-in-hand to the Temple. Not the outcast townsfolk who came to investigate the myths of the magical women out by the briny shore. She waited, and waited, until that ache in her chest grew too heavy, and she let a young and spindly man named Wilson woo her. He took her out to sea on a rickety hand-crafted boat, and he pointed out the wonders of the vast sea to her, and Rose wondered silently if ever they might cross Samuel’s path.

Wilson grew old when Rose was not paying attention. She went to visit him one day, and found only a sickly man curled up in bed, breathing in wheezes, blinking through milky eyes. Garnet found her that evening, Garnet with the ability to see the paths laid out ahead of her. She warned Rose not to follow through this time, and Rose did not. And Wilson died.

Mark with the thick orange brows was slowly whittled down to thin scraggly gray hairs, like fuzzy caterpillars resting on his lip and brow the day he died. Seth had only hit 30 when his carriage was lost off the side of the road in a blizzard, his body found days after. Wallace made it to 76. Jeremy to 64…

When she met Greg, Rose reached a selfish conclusion. She would be the human this time. She would be the human wife that Adam, Samuel, Wilson, Seth, Mark, Wallace, Jeremy never had…she would be the one to give him a child.

And she would die first this time.

The other men had seemed so peaceful when they passed, Rose thought in hindsight. A life well-lived. A life fulfilled. Not like Adam, not like Samuel, whittled down to husks and then nothing but a puppet on strings, in a body strewn about, too spent and stressed for a human. She wanted to know that peace of a life lived to its end. She wanted to pass on her chance of experiencing the world to a new human, a new generation, like all humans were so happy to do.

Rose died first. Steven lived on.

Lars has not visited Beach City in centuries. Pearl, Garnet, and Amethyst still live there, he knows that, but he never knew them well. He never properly met the green and blue ones either.

He travels sometimes. Mostly he lingers. Wherever he ends up. It’s all a blur. Where he’s been and where he’s going. Just not Beach City. He’s visited those old homes too many times, and he saw them all demolished over time. Nothing’s left for him there.

Lars does not quite know where he is. He does not particularly care. It’s indoors, and dim, and a man is logging orders on a holographic tablet one table over. It’s a restaurant of sorts. Lars doesn’t need to eat, but if he orders a coffee, they will probably let him linger longer.

Lars stares out the window. He does that often. He’s run out of other things to do over the years. He’s gotten numb to most of it.

A shadow of a man slides into the booth with Lars. He takes the space on the opposite side of the table. He’s wearing a rain poncho, a thin and ultra-light orange material for maximum hydrophobic effect. He looks old, eyes lined with wrinkles beneath the hood. Lars swallows the urge to ask him what he wants as the man lowers the hood.

His hair cascades in ringlets, each the same pale and luminous pink as the hair on Lars’ head.

He sticks a hand out, and offers a thin smile that doesn’t quite touch his eyes.

“I’m Adam. I noticed your hair from the other side of the bar. Sorry to intrude, but could we talk a moment…?”

anonymous asked:

what's so iconic about the Viscosity Exchange ??

listen here. LISTEN. hERE. it’s just so good. (for anyone who wants to watch it back it starts at like :33 of the first undertale video.) okay first of all. the second phil first says viscosity dan immediately breaks off and turns to him with the crinkliest eyes and a lil wrinkled nose and it’s already aggressively cute and we are like a quarter of a second into this exchange. incredible. beautiful. to me it was such a significant thing that he doesn’t mock phil’s word choice to US in the way that he used to on dapg ALL THE FUCKING TIME, but instead he turns to PHIL and rather than mocking him he just does that cute confused face and kind of asks phil to clarify why doing a let’s play would involve viscosity at all. 

CUTE!!!! and then there’s A JUMP CUT!!!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!! WHY? it HAUNTS ME TO THIS DAY! when we cut back, dan has completely dropped his on-camera voice and his body is pointed a little more inwards at phil. amazing. what happened in the lil bit that was cut out of this? we can ONLY GUESS. so then dan proceeds to ask in his much deeper/softer off-camera voice, “how can a let’s play have viscosity?” and honestly i am just left asking “how can such a dumb fucking question sound so soft and enticing wtf.”  and then phil tries to explain it in his silly way, he’s saying it’s “deep and sticky” and dan just gives a TEENY TINY SMILE and then turns to share it with us and THIS IS HOW HE IS REACTING TO PHILS WEIRD BRAIN NOW it’s no longer MOCKING it’s SOFT AND FOND and he’s smiling at us to sort of tacitly communicate how adorable he finds phil’s mind and i want dEATH and then, as if this weren’t enough, his voice drops even further and gets all hoarse as he asks phil, “do you know what viscosity is?” and just turns that same fond smile towards him 

and honestly if at this point you haven’t gone back to the video to watch this you really need to just for this part because holy shite man,,, that voice dan uses is Something and phil himself looks a lil shook and he gets all flustered and giggles 

and dan giggles while watching phil giggle and then phil says “let’s keep going!!!!!!” rly promptly and phil’s whole reaction was so unwarranted based on the actual words they are saying which makes me feel like phil is just reacting to dan’s flirty voice and basically wow this whole scene is everything to me ok you need to rewatch and appreciate it fully i still wake up in cold sweats thinkin about it

chasingchaos12  asked:

"Honestly, just stop it."

I have a stock pile of these prompts in my asks that I use to fight my writers block. This is the latest one. Feel free to send me any  Four Word Prompts should you see one that intrigues you.


“What are you afraid of?”

“I’m not-”

“You are. Honestly, just stop it.”

“Stop what? I’m not even doing anything.”

“You’re keeping things from me again. Look at me. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Harry looked up at Draco, his jaw set in that stubborn way it did. Draco only ever hated it when they were being serious. This was one of those serious times.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” He repeated when Harry looked away again.

“… You won’t like it.” Harry mumbled, his jaw clenching and unclenching. It made Draco want to nip at his chin to keep it still.

“I don’t like half the things you tell me.” Draco challenged. He tightened his grip around the other’s waist, leaning back against the cold dungeon wall. They were nestled in a dark corner just a few turns from Draco’s common room. No one usually came around and it was too dark for anyone to recognize them anyways.

“This one you’ll hate.” Harry sighed, resting his head in Draco’s chest.

Draco rolled his eyes. He hated being in this role. The Composed One. That was Harry’s job, taking care of him when Draco was being a bit too over emotional. Shushing him with reassurances and soft chuckles.

“Try me,” Draco drawled.

Harry groaned, rubbing his head into Draco’s shirt and messing his hair up even more (if that was possible).

“Okay… I want to stop hiding this.” Harry looked up, his eyes bold and earnest. “Us. I want to be able to talk about you to my friends. I want to be able to point across the room and say, ‘Well, my boyfriend thinks otherwise’. I want to be able to tell people you’ll kick their arse if they keep coming on to me. I want to be able to kiss you in fucking well lit areas.”

Draco blinked, blushing slightly at his candor. Really, he should be used to it by now. He sighed, “Harry, you think I don’t want that, too? I just don’t think it would be wise, considering.”

“Is it the gay thing?” Harry asked accusatorily.

A sharp, loud “ha!” escaped him. He shook his head, “Potter, if it was the ‘gay thing’ I wouldn’t have fooled around with Marcus Flint in an empty classroom right next to Professor Binn’s History of-” He stopped short when he noticed Harry’s dark expression and cleared his throat, “Anyways, I’m more worried about the whole used-to-be-mortal-enemies type issue; what with you being The Boy Who Lived and I being the oh so evil Slytherin.”

Harry smirked, “Well, we could change your title to The Boy Who Snogs The Boy Who Lived.”

“Hm, tempting,” Draco snorted, leaning forward to brush his lips against the others. Harry pulled back before he could give him a proper kiss.

“So?” Harry had hope in his eyes. Damn hero prat.

Draco wrinkled his nose, “I feel like it’s a bad idea… Well, more like dangerous.”

Harry shrugged. “I feel like that’s kinda my thing. Besides, we can start of small. Tell our friends and go from there.”

Draco imagined Pansy’s shocked face and Blaise’s quiet, disappointed glare. He shuddered.

“Okay, maybe just my friends.” Harry conceded. “But I promise we’ll be careful about it. And I swear, I won’t just barrel into the whole thing.”

He gave a breathy laugh, hanging his head, “Look, if I say yes, can we get back to the task at hand?”

Harry grinned and wrapped his arms around the other’s neck, nudging his nose against Draco’s cheek. Their lips came together, open and warm. They pulled at each other gently. The give and take of their tongues was painfully soft. Always on the brink of something rougher, harder. Harry sighed in his mouth, making a shiver go up Draco’s spine.

“Imagine doing this in the Great Hall,” Harry chuckled softly against his lips. “All the people we’d piss off.”

The corners of Draco’s lips turned up. “Focus, Potter.”

Harry grinned again, moving his mouth to Draco’s jaw line. “Shut it, Malfoy.”

4

Brett Talbot x Werewolf!Reader

Requested by Anon 

Word count: 2 189 (ain’t even sorry man.)
Warnings: Sexual content, it’s SMUT got dammit!

Request: May I ask a kind of smutty imagine with Brett where the reader and him are both in heat. And they make out, trying to prove they aren’t in rut (but they actually are XD) ? And it ends with sex and possibly marking each other as mates by accident ?

A/N: Thank you for your request and god how I loved to write this. It’s been one of the most funniest thing to write and it feels like something Brett would do. xD


”So you’re telling me that you’re totally in control?” Brett whispers in your ear as he dip his nose in the crook of your neck. He inhale your intoxicating scent while stroking hos nose against your hot skin, letting his fingers slid down one of your bra straps down your shoulder, smirking when you turn around.

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2

Two cadavers with ocular discolouration.

Ocular discolouration - also known as ‘tache noir’ or 'black spot’ - occurs when the mucous layer that normally shields the surface of the eye dries out and wrinkles after death. Dust settles over the exposed surface of the iris and scalera, causing it to turn a dark brown or black shade.

People who die with their eyes fully or partially open can appear to be bleeding from their eyes, especially if decomposition is advanced. But the discolouration is in fact only dust and dirt.

fourcounts  asked:

would you be so indulgent as to consider love potion/love spell fic where either one of them suddenly starts acting very weird or weirdly don't act weird at all

this is probably not what u meant

Weasley,” Malfoy said, cornering them outside the Great Hall on Tuesday morning. His gaze trailed lazily from Ron’s feet to head, nose wrinkled, eyes scornful. Ron blinked at him. “You’re looking even more ridiculous than usual.”

“I - what?” Ron said. Next to him, Harry was bristling. 

“Tattered robes, messy hair,” Malfoy said, counting off on his fingers. “There’s dirt on your nose, it’s eight in the morning, what have you been doing. And then the usual expression of stupefied blandness. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with your mouth shut?”

“Move along, Malfoy,” Harry said, jaw tight.

“Shut up, Potty,” Malfoy said, barely sparing him a glance. He gave Ron a last slow sneer and said, “See you round, Weasley,” then turned on his heel and strode away.

Ron blinked. “That was weird,” he said.

Harry was glaring. “What’s he think he’s playing at?”

“Mm,” Hermione said. “That was a little more attention than normal, wasn’t it?”

-

On Wednesday, Malfoy tripped Ron on his way up to Slughorn’s desk with his potions vial, making him trip and break it and lose three hours of work.

On Thursday, Malfoy spent all of lunch making faces at Ron and then reenacting Ron’s fall to the great hilarity of the Slytherin Table.

On Friday, Malfoy spent Transfiguration enchanting a series of notes to fly in ever more elaborate bird fashionings to Ron. All of them spelled out increasingly more desperate insults, and he seemed to get more and more annoyed when Ron didn’t acknowledge them. Harry ripped them all up viciously and sent back a few notes of his own to Malfoy, but Malfoy ignored him.

“I don’t know, it’s just weird for all of that to matter now, I guess,” Ron said, bewildered. “It feels like kid stuff. I don’t really care if Malfoy calls me names now that I helped beat the Dark Lord, you know? Who would still care about that?”

“I DON’T KNOW,” Harry said, then folded his arms and refused to talk for the rest of dinner. 

-

On Saturday morning, Malfoy wasn’t at breakfast, but when Ron and Harry were leaving the Great Hall, Ron almost ran into him. Malfoy was lurking about in the entranceway looking pink and upset, and he went pinker when Ron eyed him warily and said, “What is it this time, Malfoy?”

“Nothing!” Malfoy snapped, and then he rounded on Harry. “I - I know you had something to do with this!”

“What?” Harry said, straightening a bit. He’d been glum all week, but now he narrowed his eyes, running a hand through his hair. “What are you on about now?”

“I was – drugged,” Malfoy said, and snapped at Ron, “as if I would have bothered talking to you otherwise.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “What were you drugged with, an Annoying Potion?”

“I - I - no!” Malfoy said, and swung furiously around, storming away. Then he stopped, turned, and stormed back, pointing a finger in Harry’s face. “If I find out you had anything to do with it, Potter, I’ll string you up the Astronomy Tower by your ankle and spell your guts out!”

“I’d like to see you try, Malfoy,” Harry said, and they stood close and breathless like angry cats.

“Also,” Malfoy said, “also – your hair looks stupid,” and then he sneered and hurried away.

“Weird week,” Ron remarked, as they started walking. “Sorry he’s back to annoying you, Harry.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, rumpling his hair again and looking back over his shoulder. “It’s a pain.”

Hermione came round the corner and said, “Oof, Luna cornered me about Wrackspurts again – oh, Harry, what are you smiling about?”