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It was a blue sky day with barely a cloud in sight. We time biking between the citrus down to the ocean before napping on the grass. (at Ojai, California)

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didn’t realize i never posted these here on tumblr :0

this is my kadaj cosplay at anime north! i had no camera and my snapshot happy friend is keeping the pictures to her self for now so this is all i got (these are anime north motorcycle you can find them on facebook if you feel so inclined)

the cloud was pretty cool guy and even had his own mini bike!

i look like a total derp but ah well….

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thunderstorms

Read it on AO3!

Summary: Jeremy loves thunderstorms. He loves Michael, too.

Notes: sooo i was inspired by @rantaboutbees‘s post about jeremy loving thunderstorms!! so enjoy some boyf riends drinking hot cocoa and making out!! <3


The telltale sound of rain pitter-pattering on his bedroom window was enough incentive to get Jeremy Heere out of bed. It was 6 PM on a Sunday and he should have been doing his homework instead of laying in bed playing Pokemon Sun. He was being irresponsible. He was being lazy. Overall, and perhaps more accurately, he was being super depressed. A thunderstorm was just what he needed to shake him from such a state, and the Earth had been kind enough to give him just that.

Jeremy loved thunderstorms. They were dark and cold and forced you to retreat indoors, where you could curl up under your blankets and drink apple cider. They were comforting in a way that probably seemed weird to most people, but Jeremy didn’t care. When he rolled out of bed and drew back his window curtain, the sight of dark clouds layered thickly against the sky sent a spark of excitement up his spine.

There was a specific routine Jeremy liked to follow when a thunderstorm decided to creep into the sky of his little New Jersey town. 

Step one: put on Michael’s sweatshirt.

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It happens so quickly: one moment, the road is clear, and the next, a clutch of Saviours are bearing down on them like a hurricane sweeping towards the shore. Gunshots and people swearing filter through the dust kicked off of the road, the whistling through the trees which flank either side of the highway. Jesus’s heart slams into overdrive as he spins around, trying to get a clear view. Dante and Eduardo are making progress, pursuing the attackers into the dust cloud, and behind him Tara is shouting as she deftly takes down walkers with clean shots between the eyes. Jesus cuts through the dust, working his way over to Daryl, who lets off a few shots with his rifle before letting out a grunt of pain and crumpling over his knee.

Time stops as Jesus spots the splash of blood on the pavement, and Daryl, caught off guard by the injury, is immediately pulled down by walkers. There’re only two, but they’re strong and undaunted enough to overpower Daryl, who disappears beneath their grasping, skinless limbs.

Jesus springs forward, but he’s not fast enough, tripping over himself and swearing in his head oh God come on let me get to him, watching a bullet blast through the head of one walker and slamming his knife into the skull of the second. Daryl is able to get upright; there’s blood on his hands and legs but he seems cognizant, though he lets out an agonized sob when he bends his leg to sit up on the asphalt.

Eduardo and Tara gather to surround the two of them, guns raised, and Jesus doesn’t even ask if it’s a bite before frantically ripping and pulling back Daryl’s pant leg to reveal the wound. It’s a gunshot, a through-and-through, and he’s bleeding a lot.

“Fuck, fuck…” someone is swearing, Jesus thinks it’s Daryl or it might be himself. He plants his gloved hands over the wound to apply pressure, spinning around and grabbing for something, anything, until he finds a cloth in his hand. It’s an extra shirt, he realizes, and he doesn’t know who gave it to him but he quickly replaces his hand with it, tying it tight around Daryl’s leg, just under the knee, staunching the seeping blood.

“We gotta…gotta…” Jesus mutters, reaching for Daryl’s hands to try and support him up. Daryl lets out a groan as he straightens his leg again, panting and whining through the pain but standing just the same. He can stand. Jesus thanks whoever’s listening for the small mercy—but gunshots still ring out around them, popping through the bark of trees and ricocheting off of the asphalt. They haven’t run into Saviours like this—ones who shoot first and antagonize later—but ever since the last battle drew Negan out, the entire faction has been a powder keg, ignorant, terrified, and worst of all, over-armed.

“We gotta get you back to Hilltop, come on, it’s not far—” Jesus mumbles, reaching out to touch Daryl’s arm, only to have it pushed away.

“No!” Daryl yelps, pain evident on his reddening face. At least it’s not turning white, Jesus thinks with growing horror, as the image of Daryl reanimating and lunging at him makes his stomach turn. “Lemme go. I’ll lead ’em off.”

Eduardo and Tara hear the comment—it’s hard to miss it with the determined way Daryl shouts it, his voice cracking over the chaos around them. They both shoot Jesus anxious looks that he returns, at a loss. His mind can’t even comprehend what Daryl said, white noise filling in between his ears as the surrounding gunshots pound in his head.

“No, no, Daryl,” Jesus moans, “don’t. You can’t—” Tears spring to his eyes. This can’t be. This can’t be it.

“Get me on one’a their bikes,” Daryl shouts, pointing at an overturned motorcycle. Eduardo and Dante rush forward to upright it, setting down the kickstand and then returning to sentry. Daryl stumbles over to it and Jesus grabs him, supporting him as he swings his uninjured leg over and digs into the pedal. He lets out a cry of pain that he tries to bite down as he lifts himself up on his bleeding leg, stifling a whimper. He slings his rifle onto his back and stares at Jesus.

Jesus’s eyes are wide, his mouth slack and blood pounding in his ears. The voices crying no please no not now quiet and there’s nothing but silence and cold. Daryl’s dagger-sharp expression is grim, but his gaze doesn’t waver from Jesus’s.

“Listen, I’m—” Daryl begins, voice dragging out of him like it weighs a ton.

“Don’t,” Jesus protests, “can’t—”

“Listen!” Daryl shouts as gunfire sparks up anew in the distance. His eyes are vibrant through the smoke and dust and they narrow into a desperate glare. “I ain’t never got to say goodbye! Not to Beth, Glenn, my brother, none’a them! So let me say it!”

Jesus’s eyes feel hot as he leans closer, puts his arms around Daryl’s neck, rests one hand on his shoulder, the other cupping his head, sifting through thin, sweaty locks.

Daryl blinks at him a moment, lips twisted in a melancholy frown, eyes dark. He licks his lips like he wants to say something important but words just don’t work. He opens his lips.

“Goodbye.”

Jesus breaks down sobbing. He squeezes his hand in Daryl’s hair, knowing he’s pulling tight enough to hurt but everything in his body hurts at once.

“Hey,” Daryl whispers, trying to get Jesus to look at him again. Agonizingly he looks up, catches Daryl’s gaze, and sees it the kindest and most vulnerable it’s ever been.

“Goodbye, Daryl,” he mutters back, leaning in to nuzzle Daryl’s nose with his own. Their foreheads come together, Daryl’s face still twisted in pain as he leans nearer, turns his jaw to place a kiss on Jesus’s lips. It’s quick, just a see you later, be back soon kiss, and for a moment Jesus can actually imagine that’s all it is before Daryl pulls away and the sound of battle comes back.

“Drop your stuff on the side of the road, make it look like y’all ran away,” Daryl calls out, and the group immediately complies, tossing bags and spent firearms on the pavement, “hide there in the bushes—” he points to a patch of brush in a ditch—“and come back out once I led them off.”

Adrenaline carries Jesus off of the road, and he, Tara, Eduardo and Dante skid into the bushes, throwing themselves low to the ground and listening through the ash cloud as Daryl’s bike revs up, the engine so loud it sends a shooting pain through Jesus’s head. He can’t see straight. Daryl’s last, ringing, “this way, motherfuckers!” echoes out and then fades as he speeds away. More motorcycles spring to life soon after, and a truck engine joins them before they fade off too, the shouts of angry young men following, along with the tired groans of a few interested man-eaters.

It seems like only seconds that they wait in the brush before emerging again, though Jesus’s wrists have fallen asleep beneath him. The walk back to Hilltop seems to go just as quickly, as he makes it in sort of a half-conscious daze, eyes red and itchy and ears ringing. They report what happened to Maggie who takes the news with a grim look and then gets back to her work.

The trailer seems emptier than ever, Jesus realizes as he steps into it alone for the first time in months. For a while it housed five, and now it’s only one again. He should be out working, planning for their next assault, but he can’t even think. Can’t move. It happened so quickly. He can only see Daryl falling beneath a pair of grasping biters, looking him in the eye, then disappearing down the highway.

***

The night is one of the longest Jesus has experienced, though he sleeps soundly, like a child who’s sobbed himself to sleep. He’s so tired he can’t even lift his head when a light flickers on out on his porch, like someone’s come to check on him.

He does, however, find the strength to move when he hears the faint hum of a motorcycle’s engine in the distance.

joshua the type to...
  • smell like stress relief lotion (if you know what im talking about.. yes from B&BW)
  • maybe smell like vanilla bc he’s the embodiment (didn’t he actually wear a shirt that said vanilla?? or am i making this up??!?!?)
  • share his other earbud when you’re out - maybe on the train or bus because he wants to listen to the same music as you
  • play with your hair and genuinely enjoy it
  • pull your hoodie over your head for you because he thinks its adorable
  • cup your face in his large hands 
  • go to the pet store for fun
  • have a habit of putting his chin on your shoulder
  • do this while hugging you from behind 
  • also have a habit of grabbing your hands and start swinging your arms around (and you’d just be like lol???? why)
  • constantly intertwine his fingers with yours without even realizing
  • be subtly suggestive just for the hell of it - bc you thought he was a pure angel
  • fake cry when you don’t laugh at his jokes that he thought were A+++
  • split his chopsticks the wrong way (lmao) and then you’d have to get another to split for him (ok dis me)
  • have a shocked look on his face when you split them apart perfectly - like you know with the wide eyes and :O
  • be a sucker for lounging around under the shade and cloud watching tbh
  • take you out for bike rides at night 
  • invite you over for a pj party
  • buy you guys matching pjs or smth
  • probably wrap you up in multiple blankets like a little burrito and cuddle you idk 
  • he just tha type
  • u kno

anonymous asked:

What if Cloud and Tifa are getting ready for bed or doing something routine and Tifa is like "wow we're like a boring old married couple" and then they realize the implications of her words (they're still just dating) and then Cloud smiles and says "I don't think that's a bad thing at all" and they kiss 🤗

Awwwwww, that’s adorable (๑→‿←๑) 

I like to think that they often do normal things like that. It might all be new to Cloud but with Tifa he’d become accustomed to it eventually. Cloud likes to help Tifa when she’s cooking or tending the bar and Tifa would hang out with Cloud when he’s fixing his bike or when he’s working in his office. 

Aesthetics
  • Fire signs (aries, leo, sagittarius) : facing your fears, going to a rock concert, travelling far away, fangirling over bands, taking pictures everywhere you go, making weird faces with your friends, playing an instrument for the first time, rock climbing, trying to quote your favorite movie as often as possible, running in a field
  • Earth signs (taurus, virgo, capricorn) : the feeling of snow on your skin, dressing nice for special occasions, walking between skyscrapers, hiking in the mountains, watching the city lights at night, halloween make up, supporting your local team, winning a contest, going to festivals, feeling one with nature
  • Air signs (gemini, libra, aquarius) : playing with puppies, going to the pool with friends, clubbing, hanging out with your squad at night, dreaming of going away, criticizing your classmates with your friends, spending your time on social media, watching make up tutorials, going to an art club, selfies with your boyfriend/girlfriend
  • Water signs (cancer, scorpio, pisces) : hanging at skateparks, reading funny tweets, taking selfies with siblings, watching the view from a rooftop, surfing the ocean, sunrise over mountains, watching the clouds, riding a bike in your hometown, going to prom with your best friend, watching sports on tv and criticizing the players

anonymous asked:

I wish you would write a fic where Cloud is working at a bar. Zack and Genesis both try flirting with him and getting his number but somehow he leaves with Angeal or Sephiroth instead. Your choice.

Zack was transfixed on the bartender’s biceps as he poured a rather grease-smudged man his second shot of whiskey. It didn’t help that the bartender’s tight looking shirt was sleeveless either. 

Genesis on the other hand was caught in his face. It looked cute…but oh so sly as he smirked at the comment the grease monkey made. He wished he would come over here soon, so he could hear his voice over the growing swell of the bar’s crowd. 

“He’s hot,” Zack said. 

“That’s an understatement,” Genesis agreed. He and Zack looked at each other. 

They had come here to just drink and shoot the shit, but didn’t expect the cute bartender to be in this sort of place. They knew about Tifa and how she ruled over Seventh Heaven with an iron fist, but that’s what they knew. Tifa and her cute face and really hard punches. Not…mystery man. 

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