light streaks

Letters To The Zodiac

aries; you are so good and kind. don’t lose your fervor. the world is wide and sometimes dark but keep looking for the places where sunlight is warmest. don’t let harshness wear you down.

taurus; i know the melancholy in your chest makes it hard to breathe. i know the hollowness feels so heavy, but someday it will be filled with the most beautiful flowers and you’ll forget what this pain feels like.

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letters to the zodiac

aries; you are so good and kind. don’t lose your fervor. the world is wide and sometimes dark but keep looking for the places where sunlight is warmest. don’t let harshness wear you down.

taurus; i know the melancholy in your chest makes it hard to breathe. i know the hollowness feels so heavy, but someday it will be filled with the most beautiful flowers and you’ll forget what this pain feels like.

gemini; you are so very beautiful. your voice sounds like the chime of churchbells, full and warm and holy. someone will be so unbelievably in love with you someday.

cancer; look for the light pink streaks in sunsets, the ones that look like cotton candy. you’ve got a heart as soft as summer rain, don’t let it shatter; be careful with yourself. surround yourself with gentle people.

leo; you feel everything so deeply, don’t you? take a breath; the air is sweet and warm and so very alive. i know that change is so very hard but the feeling of wind in your lungs always stays the same. it will heal you.

virgo; you aren’t dangerous. it’s easy to feel like barbed wire, like broken glass, like power lines humming with electricity, but you are human. blood and veins and skin. you sharpen all your edges, make yourself dark and harsh and untouchable but maybe it’s time to let someone in.

libra; let go. i know that you cling to every person so hard that your knuckles turn white, but if they’re not good to you let them go.

scorpio; i know how hard it is to keep going. i know how hard it is to shatter like porcelain in the nighttime and put the pieces back together at dawn. let the dreams linger on your skin, wake up and unbury the sun. it’s okay if you’re still broken in the morning.

sagittarius; pushing yourself to the very brink again and again will never solve it. be gentle with your tired body, let your weary feet rest.

capricorn; you don’t need to blaze yourself into the heart of everyone you meet. you don’t need to linger like the blue spots in your eyes after you look at the sun. you can ease up, it’s okay not to be everything at once.

aquarius; when the water swallows you whole and you can’t breathe let it. tomorrow will come and it will be more beautiful than you can imagine. the golden warmth of the sun will make you feel more human; daylight will wash away the hurt.

pisces; keep creating. your mind is so beautiful, so draw until your fingers bleed. write until your palms ache. sing until your throat is raw.

The End Times

I was the first one to see a falling angel.

I was in my backyard stargazing, when a bright light streaked across the sky and a few moments later Gabriela smashed into my backyard.

She was really tall, I had to use two mattresses for her bed and move out most of the things in my living room to make room for her to sleep. She was very badly injured. Something had taken huge bites out of her chest, her eyes had been ripped out and one of her wings had been torn off. She spent most of her time unconscious and the rest gibbering in an unknown tongue.

She only spoke to me twice, once to tell me her name and the other time was to respond to a question I had asked her. “How did you get injured Gabriela?” I had asked. “War” she replied. She died a few hours after that.

In the following days, more and more angels fell from the sky. These angels however, were already dead, their bodies had been mutilated, sometimes so badly, that if not for their height and wings, we wouldn’t know for sure if they were angels. Surprisingly, while many people panicked, peace as a whole was kept and it only took a few days before the buses and trains were running on time again.

When the rain of corpses from heaven stopped, people were overjoyed. When huge cracks in the earth started to appear, they were less so. When fire and lava began to bubble up through the cracks, people rushed to monasteries, churches, mosques, and temples, anywhere they thought they might find answers. When the earth rumbled, and the cracks opened to spew out a horde of demons, we finally understood.

You see, the demons were all dead. Their bodies had been mutilated, just like the angels were. I thought that heaven and hell were in a war against one another, but they were actually fighting together. Against something else, something worse.

And it had won.

ways the gems could look more like aliens:

  • no eye whites or black pupils…eye whites are instead a darker or lighter shade of w/e color their gem is..some have no pupils. pearl n lapis would look good with this
  • homeworld gems have diamond shaped pupils like the actual diamonds do..the cgs have dif shapes ex garnets are square
  • they dont cry tears..wtf theyre not water based lifeforms…instead their eyes maybe glitch. like how their bodies glitch when theyre cracked. or their tears are of whatever element their gem is linked to…ex rubies cry lil flames, sapphires are water that trail into ice crystals, garnets are lil lightning bolts…pearls are either water or sand…rose quartzes are petals..lapises are big ghibli water tears….OR all gems have like, streaks of light in their color that trail n split down thier face as tears
  • why is gem hair like human hair?? what purpose would it have..they dont need to be warm. gem hair is its own limb(s), they can move their hair freely like tentacles. quartz soldiers have long hair for extra attack. lapises hair is messy bc she just likes fidgeting or w/e. pearl has tiny knives hidden in her hair
  • pearls ribbons are extra limbs. pearls are designed w these so they can multitask, but cg pearl uses them to hold more swords. on top of her ribbon sash she’d have like 3 more ribbons
  • remember how beta lapis melts when shes upset..all dif gems have dif versions of this. garnet gives off lil zaps. ame gets spiky. pearl disintegrates a lil into sand. etc
  • corrupted jaspers skin spikes..all homeworld quartzes have those. amethyst and rose hid theirs to not freak out humans but when theyre emotional or in battle they pop back out
  • noodley limbs like adventure time
  • weird loading/buffing symbols and glitches n zaps n stuff, like when pearl was piloting the ship in jailbreak. more reminders that theyre inorganic and robotlike
  • teeth based on gem cut and shape. quartzes have super spikey crooked fangs like geode crystals. pearls have no fuckin teeth. garnets are blocky. maybe teeth arent white either
  • pointed tongues…or at least no reddish mouths like they have in the sho wtf
→ nudes, not flowers (pt. 2)

Originally posted by bangtannoonas

☆ pairing → Hoseok x Reader x Jungkook

genre → smut, fuckboi!au

warnings  → … voyeurism + exhibitionism, dom!junghope, power play?, dirty talk!!!, jealousy, demeaning names during sex, the threesome, & probably other warnings byE 

word count   → 10.4k 

☆ summary   →  you’re not supposed to fall for Jung Hoseok and his repertoire of awful pick-up lines – but you do. the problem is: he’s afraid of commitment, and bolts at the idea of settling down. you decide to stay far away from fuckboys, but his friend decides to test your new found resolutions

or : Jungkook wants to see how far he can push Hoseok until he snaps

→  pt i | pt ii (final) 

☆ a/n   → okay…so… this is just porn, but if you squint, there’s kind of a plot. you should probably start with pt 1 if you haven’t already!! 
+ shout out to the mutuals who encouraged the filth fest in this part esp @gxtsmxt @itsrainingmin !! we can have a prayer circle later to cleanse our souls
+ also tomorrow is my one month anniversary on tumblr :’)) thank you so much for all the love i’ve received this past month  ♡

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You see a bright light streak down from the sky and plummet downward to the west and you recognise it immediately.  It’s the light of Creation. 

anonymous asked:

Sorry for the disorder, but I wanted to ask if you could do a tutorial on lineless art! By the way, nice art!!!

thanks! lineless art it is, then

i start with the sketch, obviously. since you won’t have the lineart to guide you later, a clean and detailed sketch is pretty important

then i make it transparent enough so that i could focus on the shapes, but was also able to tell the details of the sketch, and pick some background color

then i slap on the colors i wanna use. the accuracy of these splotches of color depends on my mood and patience and the amount of details in the drawing (lol), so it’s fairly arbitrary i guess

the more accurate it is, the less it takes to clean it up later, but the opposite sometimes adds life to the drawing and welcomes the experiments with the colors and shapes

if there’s something that needs extra accuracy (like the earring here) or i just don’t feel like cleaning it up again later, i use several layers (face, hair, etc) or add the details later. but i love using one single layer whenever possible

aaand then i just start erasing / adding stuff to make it all nice and crispy!

there isn’t really a certain point when i start doing it. like, here i added those light hair streaks before defining the shape of her head, so that i could erase the messy parts altogether, but i could also clean up the head first, then lock the layer and add the streaks

when i decide that it’s comprehensible enough for me to work without the sketch, i hide its layer. you could continue working with it, of course, but i find it distracting. it’s nice to take a fresh look and figure out what it’s gonna look like in the end

details time! i enjoy adding lines here a lot, it’s really not the same as creating the lineart beforehand. there’s something comfy and lively about this process, because you compliment the shapes, silhouettes and color rather than just redrawing the empty carcass of a sketch. besides, it adds more definition and movement to the shapes

hope that helps!

Hopeless Hearts

Drabbles

jessicamarcia requested: Jungkook + Idol/Fan AU 
Pairing: Jungkook | Reader
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 17,378
Author’s Note: Tbh I had some apprehension about this request because an idea I stumbled upon that just kept coming back to me was directly from this fantasy I kept about having about what would happen if I ever meet Jungkook and how and this just feels very personal to me as a result. Regardless, I decided to share because I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t decide to contribute my pain to the fandom.

ALSO, sentences in italics are being spoken in Korean.

Summary: You never understood the gravity of your position as an intern working Kcon until you fall for one of your favorite idols, Jeon Jungkook—quite literally too.

.

Sometimes you think you have a lot of mixed feelings when it comes to your job.

On one hand, it’s a pretty incredible opportunity, one that you acknowledge not a lot of people get to experience first hand: which is working as an intern in the event operations department for Kcon—the annual Korean convention in which big Kpop groups will travel around the world to bring their music and their joy to the international fanbase. For someone who never actually had the means and the ability to make the trip as an audience member of your own accord, it’s fascinating to witness the back-the-scenes sight of how much effort and how much time goes into planning and organizing an event of this scale.

And because Kcon it in of itself is half a convention and half a concert, there were always many people needed to cover the different subsections of the event, which is where your role as an intern came into play. Given that there were two interns in the department of organizing the physicality of the event, you were put on the team mainly in charge of organizing the convention while the other intern assisted with scheduling of the talents and making sure the performances would go by smoothly.

But on the other end of that spectrum, working with vendors really allows you to see how many people handle responsibility and deadlines and it makes you want to pull the hair out of your roots. You like to think of yourself as a fairly reasonable person, giving a vendor 24 hours to respond to emails at the latest before having to resort to more emails and phone call—but this is absolutely ridiculous.

Keep reading

2

Some context:
There’s a low growl ending in an ethereal hiss in his ear as cold, clammy arms wrap around his neck and chest, “Go back to sleeeeeep.” He can feel electricity running down his shoulder making his face feel numb, and if the twine streaks of light lazily trailing in circles were anything to go by, he’d put his money on it being none other than Hanzo. “It’s just a cup of hot chocolate, and you’ve really got to stop looking like someone possessed at five in the morning.”

He carries him back after much insistance that he does.

Supergirl fantasy episode:

Open on Kara’s apartment: Kara tells Alex all about Mon-El and how he kissed her and now is being a superhero for her. Alex sighs, rubs her forehead. She is so over boys and their shit, especially wanting to be superheroes and falling for her sister.

Cut to: Alex at the bar, watching Mon-El pouring drinks and flirting with girls. Her mouth twists into that smirk as her eyes narrow. Maggie catches her gaze and gives her a look, but says nothing. She hasn’t seen that side of Alex yet.

Alex makes a few discrete calls. Lucy has just the place, a decommissioned base, and Vasquez reluctantly agrees to help. Who doesn’t have a crush on Alex, or for that matter, Kara?

They grab Mon-El one night as he’s leaving yet another woman’s apartment, stash him at the base. It’s harder to get Winn’s cooperation, so they don’t tell him what it’s for. They just convince him how awesome it will be to get Mon-El’s pod back in working order.

Maggie gets suspicious about Alex’s motorcycle trips to the desert and follows her. She discovers Mon-El locked away and waits to confront her girlfriend. Alex tells her it’s for Kara, and Maggie says, you kidnapped someone for your sister? Alex points out how happy Kara has been for the last week. Maggie agrees to help but is a little worried about how turned on she is by this side of her girlfriend.

In the meantime, Kara makes a few half-hearted attempts to find Mon-El out of a sense of obligation, but gives up easily, especially when M'gann points out all the women he’s been flirting with or going home with lately. She’s privately relieved to have him gone.

Alex, meanwhile, has been subtly (she thinks) asking J'onn about planets and interspace travel. He reads her mind, but doesn’t say anything. Later, he finds her calculations on the computer and fixes the coordinates. She’s a bioengineer, after all, not an astrophysicist.

Finally, it’s time. Lucy, Vasquez, and Maggie bundle Mon-El into the pod while Alex sets the coordinates and starts the ignition. J'onn keeps Kara occupied with minor emergencies while keeping an eye on the desert. Finally, he sees a streak of light heading toward the sky, and he smiles. Kara joins him just as the light in the sky fades. What was that, she asks. Lucky star, he tells her. Lucky star.

Candy Hearts

Requested

Based on the word “Inevitable”


Draco’s eleven.

He’s gasping lungs and cracked open ribs as he clutches the acceptance letter in his pocket and glances up at the frost laced rooftops of Diagon Alley, realizes that there’s an entire world beyond the manor walls and he hadn’t even realized it.

He’s eleven and catching sight of her through shop window reflections like crystal balls. Dragging himself into Florish and Bots because there’s curiosity, no, interest, no, enchantment, maybe, ebbing like magic through the whorls of his fingertips. And she’s in his peripheral, schoolbooks clutched to her chest and smile soft, eyes wide and lashes fluttering. Luminescent in the light filtering through the window.

Draco watches as she rolls her sleeves up to her elbows and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, strains on her tiptoes to reach a book on one of the higher shelves and –

“Here,” he says, grabs the book and slips it into her hands. Ignores the spark that catches between their fingertips and tugs, oh yes, he’s close enough to see the color of her eyes like rainbows reflected through a prism, the butterfly soft smile that traps itself against her mouth as she meets his eyes –

Says her name, “Y/N,” like wind chimes or a symphony.

And Draco thinks that it might as well be a spell.

___

Draco’s twelve.

He’s glances cast across a classroom, over his shoulder, when he hopes that nobody is looking. Fingers brushing and elbows knocking and, “Excuse me, I didn’t watch where I was going.” He did, and he’d be lying if he said that touching her felt anything less than a charm.

He’s twelve and he’s the pride swelling in his chest at his first Quidditch match when he can hear her somewhere below him, cheering his name. He tells her that she’s his good luck charm the next day, doesn’t quite catch the blush that suffuses her cheeks before he turns away.

But it’s the last day of term and she’s slipping by him in the train corridor and, “Have a good summer, Draco,” she says, hesitates, brushes her lips against his cheek.

He hadn’t quite believed in magic, until then.

___

Draco’s thirteen.

He’s Blaise’s snickering and Pansy’s knowing looks and jealousy, hot and potent, bubbling like a potion he hadn’t managed to get right in his stomach as Cormac McLagen smirks and smiles and sidles up beside Y/N in the Great Hall during breakfast one day.

He’s thirteen and he’s fucking captivated as snowflakes dust Y/N’s lashes and the wind twirls the ends of her scarf, as she wipes butterbeer from her upper lip and giggles at something that one of her friends whispers into her ear.

“I’ll help you back,” he offers, seizes a chance, when her friends have run ahead of her on the path back to the castle.

And she smiles at him, tucks an arm through the crook of his elbow. Tells him about the trouble she’s been having in Transfiguration lately and if she can’t figure it out her parents will have her head for sure and –

“I can tutor you, if you’d like,” he says, wonders if Blaise had spiked his pumpkin juice with Felix Felicis that morning. Hopes that she can’t feel his heartbeat through the jut of his elbow.

“I’d love that,” she replies.

And he can’t quite believe his luck.

___

Draco’s fourteen.

He’s library desks cluttered with books and ink blotches, Madam Pince’s furious hushing when he and Y/N forget to be quite. The way light streaks and shimmers around her, distorted as though they’re drowning in the Black Lake.

He’s fourteen and strangely, oddly hopeful as he clasps her fingers, marvels at the fit of her hand in his, shows her the correct hand motion and heart stops, starts, stutters when she doesn’t quite pull away.

“I aced my last test,” she tells him, runs towards him in the corridor, throws her arms around his neck till he can feel her heartbeat crash against his.

“I guess you don’t need a tutor anymore then,” he says. A frown is burgeoning on the cusp of his mouth.

“No, no,” she says hurriedly. “I still do.”

And he isn’t sure why he hasn’t transfigured this, them into something else yet.

___

Draco’s fifteen.

He’s the firewhiskey on his lips and the castle floor on the palms of his hands as he reaches forward and spins the bottle yes, hopes, wonders, waits as it spins, spins, lands on her, oh yes.

He’s fifteen and he’s the lip-gloss on her lips, the way they crash head on like a train-wreck, a car crash and he doesn’t have an algorithm for this: him, her, the kiss.

Because her mouth fits neatly against his and she tastes like melted sugar, like cotton candy, all soft edges and fluttering pulse points. His eyes are closed and he can’t quite believe/ only he can, he’d rigged the game.

Afterwards, afterwards, afterwards:

He pulls her into a broom cupboard and threads his fingers through her hair, tastes butterbeer on her tongue and feels his tonsils glued together because this is a secret and he can’t quite find the right words to say.

But things are different, they’re different and he holds her hands as he walks her to class, kisses her across the tabletop in Honeydukes and grabs her, twirls her after Quidditch matches. He wraps his scarf around her neck and they pass notes in class, sit at the top of the astronomy tower at night and map out the handful of constellations that they know.

It’s this: him, her, and how he hadn’t anticipated that the winds would change.

___

Draco’s sixteen.

He’s late night kisses and early morning platitudes, worried questions and, “Draco, I know something’s wrong.” The mark on his arm and the worry that’s coiled tight in his gut as he attempts to keep it covered up.

He’s sixteen and he’s breaking, the world too heavy on Atlas’ shoulders. Because he has a noose around his neck and he can’t do it, can’t, can’t, can’t.

They lose their virginity to each other the night before he’s meant to kill Dumbledore. And it’s like falling through a pensieve to a memory he didn’t know he had; soft lips and rolling hips and gasps, teeth, fingers fit neatly in the groove of her waist.

Here’s how it goes:

A girl, a boy, a tragedy. He’s Icarus and she’s the sun and it’s not her that kills him, oh no, it’s the ocean and melted wax dripping down his back.

He tells her ‘I love you’ before he tells him ‘I have to kill you’.

And there’s a green light and he’s Gatsby and he’s never managed to reach what he wanted, no, has only ever been a cautionary tale.

He’s sixteen and he’s a mistake, a heartbreak, the boy who made all the wrong choices.

___

Draco’s seventeen.

He’s the shards of a broken chandelier stuck in his mouth, his hands, vocal chords torn to ribbons as lights flash green and screams echo through the hallowed corridors of the manor. The letters he’d sent her that don’t have a reply, the ragged stitches of a heart never meant to mend.

He’s seventeen and the room of requirement is burning around him, life flashing before his eyes, flames licking at his heels. It’s her, her, her. And Crabbe’s gone, the room is charred but it’s not over yet, is never over.

There’s blood on his hands and in his throat when he sees her again. When he grabs her, yells, watches as a Death Eater’s body crumbles to the floor.

Her palm is sweaty against his, breaths ragged and tears sooty.

There’s a war raging around them and he finds that he doesn’t quite care.

___

Draco’s eighteen.

He’s the faded mark on his arm and the ring in his pocket and the happiness – cautious, unsure, new – that permeates the walls of his new home with her. Because the war is over and the world is still turning.

He’s eighteen and he’s a happy ending, maybe, a fairytale that didn’t quite end with them riding off into the sunset but ended like this instead: him and her and he thinks that that’s all he ever really needed.

9

“There’ll be a time,” Nita said softly, “when any time someone’s elected to a public office—before they let them start work—they’ll bring whoever was elected up here and just make them look at that until they get what it means…”

Kit nodded. “You wanted to know where the power came from,” he said to Nita’s mother and father. “The grownups who’re wizards tell us that whatever made that made the power too. It’s all of a piece.”

“The grownups who’re wizards?”

“And as for ‘why,’ ” Kit said, “that’s why.” There was no need for him to point to “that.” “Not just for the—for what you felt on the way in. That’s part of it. But because somebody’s got to take care of that. Not just part of it—not just one country, or one set of rules, or one species, at the expense of the others. But everything that lives, all the kinds of ‘people.’ All of it, with nothing left out. One whole planet. Somebody’s got to make sure it grows as well as it can. Or just survives. That’s what wizards do.”

- diane duane