aw this is perfect

okay so in my highschool au lee and sakura have perfect glowing skin and narutos acne is awful and getting out of hand so sakura and lee have an Intervention.

every day for a week they do the spot treatment, then the week after that a Lot of peels, and then from there is clearing and moisturizing the fuck out of his face bc he probably washes it like, every second day and doesnt give a shit

they hang out at lee or sakuras place doing face masks and talking. its a lot of fun trying out all the stuff that they’ve collected

I love how in this scene Damian casually throws six rings at the same time and they all land perfectly on the bottles to everyone’s shock. THE DUDE THROWS BATARANGS AND OTHER GADGETS ALL THE TIME!!! OF COURSE HE IS GONNA BE ACCURATE WITH SOME MUCH BIGGER STUFF AT A TARGET 5 FEET AWAY!!!

i talked to him on a wednesday. he sighed on my bed. i was skyping my sister, who was trying to teach me how to knit. i told him i needed to go to bed early, i had a test in the morning. he said he had things to discuss and i’m a patient person so i listened.

this is, i learn, how our “friendship” works. hours of my life become his sanctuary. he texts me constantly. his problems fill up every space in my planner. often he demands my attention rather than asking. i feel bad, because i’m the type to feel bad, so i listen. i offer advice that goes ignored, i sit in contemplative silence even though i should be studying, i nod my head and support him. 

he doesn’t notice i start drinking wine as soon as he shows up. a few times i make the mistake of trying to bring my own problems up. they are always overshadowed by his own, or else i am given an odd supply of uncomfortable comments. “i don’t feel good lately” is met with “a girl as pretty as you isn’t supposed to feel sad.” i say “i don’t like my writing recently” and he spends forty seconds saying i’m beautiful and intelligent and a perfect girlfriend before saying “unlike me, i’m awful” and before i know it, i’m comforting him again. we don’t have real conversations. once, as an experiment, i spend two hours completely silent, just to see if he’ll notice. he doesn’t. 

once he bursts into my room while i’m scheduling my week. he’s taken aback by how much i’m doing. “you look so busy!” he says, “where’s all the time you’re planning on spending with me?” he doesn’t ask about any of my other activities. he knows nothing about my life except that i’m good at listening. i feel myself under a rolling pin. he flattens me out to use me. he punishes me if i don’t give him attention - all i hear is how he is useless without me, how he’s barely holding on, how he doesn’t know what he’d do if one day i was gone. he doesn’t know my middle name. he misses my birthday.

it’s wednesday again. i’ve been drinking. he took some of my wine without asking. he lounges on my couch with his arm casually around me. my actual friends know i don’t like touching. i asked him to move but he just laughed and said “you’re so funny.” he’s too heavy for me to move physically so i just let him lay there, complaining. i stare into space, thinking about the news i got that day. about how my life has changed.

he looks up to me. “can i ask you a personal question?”  

i don’t say “that would be a first,” because my mother raised me to respond politely. i tell him go ahead, as always, i’m listening.

“why do girls like you date jerks?” he asks me.

i stare at him, uncomprehending. he is a runaway train, his mouth still moving. “I just mean,” he says, “you’re all always going after the worst guys like you don’t even see people like me. like i’m always being friend-zoned, even you did it, and you’re one of the only people who is nice to me. but girls like you never say yes to boys like me.”

i don’t know what he’s saying. i’m dating a girl, and he would know that, if he knew anything about me; a clever and talented girl who means everything to me. 

he sighs and sits back when i’m not immediate in responding. “this,” he says, “is what i mean.” looks up with puppy dog eyes at me, “i mean could you ever date someone as awful as me? am i just a friend? am i doomed to be nothing more than the friend to pretty girls?”

we aren’t friends. we aren’t friends. we aren’t friends. 

he moves the topic before i can reply, back to his problems. i text my girlfriend, “men are animals” and she sends me back a poem about how much she loves me. he tries to kiss me when he leaves, and when i duck out of it, i later get sixteen texts on how scared i am of sex. his facebook posts are all about how women don’t know how to find the right men. how we’re blind to the good things. how we don’t see fate when it’s happening. 

he says, “i wrote you something.”

it’s a poem about him.

Remember how in DMC Beckett was desperate to lay his hands on the Chest because if the Company controls the Chest, they control the sea? The second and third films make it perfectly clear that claiming authority over the heart of the captain of the Flying Dutchman gives you authority over the sea because the captain of the Flying Dutchman is the sea – hence the conundrum in AWE. Since all the rules of Jones’s curse apply to Will, there is no reason to assume that this is no longer the case once he’s taken over, and so the logical conclusion is that whoever has Will’s heart also rules the sea. And we all know what happened at the end of AWE. 

source

So yes, what I’m saying is that Elizabeth Turner can stay on land waiting for her husband to come home and still be the most powerful character in the Pirates universe because it just so happens that the love of said husband granted her authority over the sea.

anonymous asked:

would you ever draw camila? like with lil nina?

camila loves her happy lil girl more than anything

I wish I could be like a Star Wars animated character and just have one outfit perfectly and impeccably made for me, a bunch of copies of that outfit, a couple of variants of that outfit for Cold, Undercover, Fancy etc, and just wear those until I have Character Development that necessitates a new outfit.

4

- - a life of recycled horror.