look at how worn out it is

YALL today we had male makeup which is what they do for like news anchors on tv n stuff (our trainer today works at channel 7) and i got my dad to come in and didhis makeup and it was super good!!!!!! like im so proud of how good he looks and how natural it came out

like he even wore it back to work and hes never worn makeup in his life!!! im so proud of him for that and i think hes proud of me :) i hope now hes come in and got to see how much i love this and what im doing that he’ll know for sure that this was the right thing to do,,,, because i know he was nervous about me doing this instead of finishing highschool and going to uni. but he looked so happy leaving! and i think it put his fears to rest which is good. todays been really nice even if i was going mad with misophonia this morning


Game Of Thrones Collection [Part 9/?]

Cersei Lannister | Dark Reign | Worn in Season 6 Finale (see here). 

I finally did it! I got many requests to do this one and the coronation gown. I’m not super happy with how the final texture looks in game, since I was working with literally one reference image. So until some better images come out, this’ll do. The coronation dress is a bit more tricky, but I may still make it in the future. 

I hope all of you who requested this one like it! Sorry it took so long. Leave me some feedback, it’s my motivational fuel ♥

[ Download Here - Mesh by Kiara Included]

Arriving for dinner w/ Todrick Hall | New York City, NY | August 24, 2016

Alexander Wang ‘Boyfriend Bomber Jacket with Net’ - $950.00 (sold out)

This jacket should look familiar to you, Taylor first wore it a few months back on her way to a pre-Met Gala dinner — though with very different styling.

How does it fare for you the second time around?

Worn with: Miu Miu bag, Lovers + Friends co-ord set and M Gemi sandals

Also worn: Heading to a pre-Met Gala dinner


Character/pairing: Dean x Reader
Random word or object: Book
Emotion: Confusion
Requested by: @percussiongirl2017

You sighed heavily and rubbed your hands over your tired face, right as Dean was trying to rub the sleep out of his heavy eyes.

“You alright over there?” he asked, looking up at the sound of your heavy sigh.

You rubbed your forehead. “None of this makes any sense to me,” you said in frustration. “I don’t get how any of this adds up!” You slammed the heavy book closed in front of you.

A flicker of concern passed over Dean’s face at the action. “Hey,” he said, sitting up straight across from you. “We’re gonna figure this out. I promise.” He considered your worn expression for a moment. “You’ve been at it a long time. Why don’t you catch a little shut-eye. I’ll keep goin’ on this.”

You looked up at him and furrowed your brow. “You’ve been going at it as long as I have,” you said. “I should keep reading too,” you said, reaching for another book, but Dean intercepted your hand, catching it gently in his. 

“It’s alright. Get some sleep,” he said.

You looked down at your hand in his, certain that surprise was evident on your face. “Al-alright… thanks.” You slipped your hand from his, despite not really wanting to. 

Dean gruffly cleared his throat and turned back to his own stack of books.

“Thanks, Dean.”

“Don’t mention it…”

On the Head of a Pin - Part 3

Word Count: 2992

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Language, violence, self loathing, SPN stuff

A/N: Feedback please and thank you!

Series Rewrite Masterlist

“How can you be so sure?” Dean questioned. “It’s just like the accident. We’re here and we can’t get back in our own bodies.”

“No reaper.” You pointed out. You saw the look of realization cross his face before being replaced with the defeated look he’d worn earlier. You were trying to be strong for Dean’s sake, but the absolute truth was you were terrified. Not just for him and what starting the apocalypse would do to him, but for what you were becoming. Whatever that was.

“God, Y/N…look at you…” Dean finally looked at your face. Really looked at it. It was completely covered in bruises and blood. Barely any of your skin was untouched. He reached a hand out and cupped your cheek, rubbing his thumb along the cheekbone.

“Good thing we learned how to touch things as ghosts, huh?” You chuckled. He didn’t laugh and you pulled him close to you, rubbing his back while you hugged him.

Keep reading


AN - You really thought I was going to leave Bucky out? Not likely. This ending is a little sader, but it still works. Thank you all so much for your support! I love you all!


He recognizes your voice, instantly. His head is quick to be removed from his hands, as he looks up to you, thinking it’s a mirage, it’s almost too good to be real.

Then, he feels your hand resting on his shoulder, and oh god, it’s too real. You’re there. Y/N Y/L/N is there. And he wants to make sure you still know how much he loves you.

He stands up, almost instantly, seeing you there, looking stupidly beautiful. He remembered the dress, too. You had worn it on the May Day outing, where you had all watched fireworks and had a barbecue. He had watched you all day, seeing how perfect you looked, and how you could have been his.

“So, how’s it going?” He asks, a little hesitantly. To this you raise your eyebrows.

“You tell me you hate me, then I show up to your wedding, and all you’ve got to say, is ‘How are you doing?'” You ask. The Captain’s eyes widened, before his voice becomes a little louder.

“Y/N, there’s no need to be-”

“Rude? Is that what I was thinking when you slapped me, Steve? And your pretty girl was laughing?”

He dosen’t have anything to say to this, but you can tell he’s getting frustrated. He lets out a groan, before retorting.

“Y/N, I wasn’t thinking. I love you, so much.” He says. What he does next, is unexpected. The man lunges forward, forcefully kissing your lips. You try to push him off, but he dosen’t stop, until he chooses to.

For a moment, there is nothing but silence. He’s trying to think of another excuse. Instead, you hear footsteps behind you, and a familiar voice shouting “What the hell was that?”

Fitz is near, now, and you’re scared. He’s soon standing just behind you, where he uses his arms to pull you close to his chest. “What on earth do you think your doing, kissing her?” He asks Steve, aggravation clear.

“Look, it wasn’t right-”

“No!” He shouts. “Not when she’s got me, and you’re about to be married!”

“I just wanted to-”

“Shut up!” you shout, his clutch getting tighter on you. “Both of you, just…”

“Y/N?” Fitz reaches out for your hand. “You’re okay, yeah?”

That’s when it hits you. Right then.

“No, I’m not okay. That’s it! I thought…I thought getting away from Steve would make me feel better, but…it dosen’t! I’m still a part of his life, and really, I just need to keep moving, and get away!

“Y/N-” Both men start!

“I need, I need to go.” You finish, before running back to Fitz’s car, now sitting in the driver’s seat. Both him and Steve run after you, shouting at you to stop, and come back – but it’s too late. You’re driving. You’re gone.

“So, what makes us think we can trust you, Y/L/N?”

Even among your deepest thoughts, you never thought you would find yourself here, the darkest office, sitting across from one of HYDRA’s top agents. He’s wearing a suit, and not smiling. Impatient, dark, waiting for your answer.

“Because I broke Captain America to be here.” You finish. To this, he raises his eyebrows, clearly bemused by the fact you’ve just told him. All too quickly, he motions to the two men on either side of him, who take your arms, and drag you away.

“What…what are you doing?” You ask, the fear now building.

“We’re taking you to be wiped.” They answer. It’s then you begin to wriggle, which is met with a sharp hit around the cheek, with a gun.

“No! I meant to help, I don’t-” The slap is given again.

“Listen, we can wipe you, or kill you. And I know which one would be better.” One man snarls. You’re almost in defeat, but continue to struggle, trying to break free and run. But it dosen’t matter what you do. They’ve got a strong grip, and are tying you down to a table.

“Please, I want to see-” But it’s too late. A gag is shoved into your mouth, before a metal device is placed over your face, shocking you, piece by piece.

Fitz? Gone.

Natasha? Gone.

Steve? Gone.

It’s ripping you apart, taking away everything you had and would be. Any hope, any dreams, they had all vanished. And the burn was growing stronger.

You’re in too much pain to notice the two guards sniggering. But, you’re also in too much pain to notice another man enter the door. He’s shirtless, with long dark hair, and tracksuit bottoms. There’s a jagged scar across where the joint of his left arm should be, and it’s completely replaced with metal, and a red star.

His eyes are focused on you. He can’t remember much, but he can remember that big machine hurts, and it hurts bad. Soon, the guards are looking at him, and approaching him.

“Why are you here, Solider?” He snorts.

“I was sent. To see the new recruit.” He tries to put the words together, hoping it sounds right. It might, in his head. The two guards nod, as the machine continues to wipe, almost done with the process.

A loud click is heard, before the metal is removed, and the straps are loosened. You fall from the seat, weak, and trembling, not sure of where, what, or who you even are.

The dark haired man approaches, kneeling in front of your weakened body. He uses his flesh hand, tilting your head up to look at him.

“Hey, come on. Don’t be like that. I’m here to help.” He explains. You nod, a vague understanding of what that means. He takes your wrist, gently enough, before pulling you along, nodding to the guards.

“She’s under my watch. Understood?” They nod, too scared to argue with the asset.

He takes you back to his room, where he helps you out of the remains of your dress, and gives you his pyjamas to wear for now. From the other room, he gets a sponge, trying to wash off your face. You flinch, from the grime and the cuts, but he tries to distract you.

“Can you remember anything?” He asks, to which you shake your head, close to tears.

“Neither can I. Well, I can remember some things.”

“Like what?” You quietly ask.

“My name. It’s Bucky. I lost my arm in a war, I think. And I don’t like porridge.” You smile at this, not the facts, but the sheer hope, that if he can remember something, so can you.

“Okay.” You say. Bucky smiles, kissing your forehead, something else he remembered.

Fitz and Steve left the bar, on the evening, 5 days after your disappearance. Fitz had gone straight back to The Bus, trying to track where you were, with little response. Steve had gone on, married Sharon, but was too distracted.

Natasha had accompanied the two men, to try and make sure they didn’t drink themselves stupid. In true fact? She was just as heartbroken as them, if not more. And she was angry, oh so angry.

“I can’t believe, we didn’t listen to her-” Steve started.

“All that time, when she was asking me about my problems…I should of helped her.” Fitz retorted, all of them feeling guilt.

“But-” Before Natasha can get her sentence out, a dark figure appears in front of them. She’s wearing dark boots and leggings, a black winged chest plate over her front. A black hood is atop of her head, but you can see the H/C plait hanging down. And the features. Those beautiful eyes, lips, it’s all still her.

Steve is first to step forward, both Fitz and Natasha close behind. He opens his mouth.


“Who’s Y/N?”

How about…. Gabriel Reyes giving sage life advice in a gruff and serious tone but it’s done out of caring.
Gabriel Reyes saying something comforting but his face makes it look like he’s about to scold someone.
Gabriel Reyes caring about the people under him, making sure that they are taken care of outside of missions.
Gabriel Reyes never leaving one of his teammates behind.
Gabriel Reyes worrying about the mental health of his team.
Gabriel Reyes. A battle worn leader who still has compassion despite his rough exterior and wariness with the world.


got excited and broke out my old Rose closet cosplay (feat. quick replacements for accessories I’ve lost over the years + the makeup skills of a 13-year-old)

I’ll pretend that I’m practicing for Halloween ^_^

*insert title* (closed starter)

Pap as of lately had gone a little distant from both his friends and family, from being out allnight to going of for a few days at a time with no word from him. Of all this seamed to happen at random times tho with the skeleton nothing was a routine for him.

This time how ever Pap had been gone over a week and when he did get back, he looked worn out with a shorter than normal temper, even with his brother of all people. It only took the smallest thing to upset him and send him crazy
@flowey-and-frisk (sorry i gotta go sorry its short.)

anonymous asked:

a pap said belle was wearing a nightdress, but I saw rbers saying no it wasn't. what do you think? what do you think it means?

At first glance it doesn’t necessarily look like a nightgown to me, but on the other hand, it looks more like a nightgown than it does like Belle street wear.  

Let’s take a look shall we?

Look how sheer it is against her thigh, it’s flowy, it’s ultra short, she has bare legs (Belle almost always wears tights) and she’s wearing flats.  

When has Belle, in the history of ever, worn flats!?!?!

Plus her hair is back in a loose braid:

x  x

That doesn’t look like Belle dressed for being out on the town. Especially since in the photos Rumple is in a full suit.  

It could be her nightgown, it could be loungewear, but it certainly doesn’t look like out-on-the-town gear. 

As for what it means, I think it strengthens the speculation that the 6x02 Killian/Belle scene was about Killian offering Belle the hospitality of the Jolly Roger (which would probably mean he lives at the CS house… EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!)  in order to get away from Rumple and that as of 6x04 she is staying there. (which means Killian is staying with Emma. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!) 

It’s all starting to sound pretty plausible to me and I would love what it means for Belle and Killian’s friendship and of course what it would mean for Killian and Emma’s living arrangements! 

Believe me I tried to make my mouth stop salivating your taste, but I found it too hard to swallow words where my feelings didn’t attach its meanings on it, so now my poetry repelled my brain to swing ink into oceans I waved impossible galaxies from. I knew not of swimming, but drowning in desires that hang my body in a lamp at the back of the moon, so I can weigh heavy on my shoulders the way your hand rests a shotgun on the table.

Blinking eyes, a bricked throat cemented of liquor, smoked chambers of worn out bed covers, I counted how silence can make my heart feel bigger but emptier at the sound of car murmurs, train whistles, siren yelps. There is no such thing as getting better, only growing with the charcoal sky so that maybe a sunrise might appear somewhere in your hopeful smile, but I looked at the corners of my walls too long to know they framed my inhibitions into watercolor paintings, touched them the bodies they needed to be tall statues, so even the cold side of my pillow heated with much tossing from the coins in my head that keep spinning my monsters enough darkness to refrain me from seeing some light.

I needed to know how it was to be okay without being reminded of you. But cobwebs were portals to my soul where spiders died, no life existed, in trying to gain rebirth, I had to let my heart stop weaving music out of your name. In due time, a lot of it, it will dance in the world a new sound of heart beat tempo.

—  trying // s.c

So, a story concerning how I’m forever stuck in wolfaboo hell:

My mom got herself one of those pillow things that vaguely look like chairs that are supposed to help support you while sitting up on the floor or bed. She liked it and then my dad ended up getting one. So my parents decided they would get me one to use instead of my normal pile of old worn out pillows. 

Initially they were going to get me a blue one because the shade of blue went with the walls of my room and curtains nicely. Then they found a silvery-grey one and got it because “it looked wolfy”. So I now have a soft ‘wolfy-colored’ pillow for back support.

lapislolzuli  asked:

$how much do they spend on clothes every month?

Thanks so much for sending this in!!

Blaetlona Isilmynawyn: Blae buys herself new clothes every once in awhile, but only really to replace older clothes that’ve worn out. Her monthly expenditures are negligible.

Grey Riot: Grey spends more than he’d ever admit on clothes that he tries on, looks at himself wearing, hates and throws away. “But why don’t you try it on before you buy it?” you might ask.

Because he’s anxious he’ll be accused of trying to steal it, thanks to past experiences.

Jaraku Drake: Pre-Issabel Drake, any gil Jaraku didn’t drink was spent on clothes.

All of it.

You don’t want to know how much that hat cost.

Now that Izzi makes his clothes for him, though, he doesn’t really spend anything on them.

Resh Viqqoh: Resh buys new protective equipment fairly regularly, out of healthy caution. Clothes? Ehhh. Not very much very often. Not enough to calculate monthly.

Zwynmaga Doesmagasyn: Zwyn personally pays for the clothes of his crewmen, so he spends a substantial sum of coin on that. For himself? Not much. He bought two nice outfits (the first for a court appearance, the second because the first was apparently Ishgardian and he didn’t want that association.)

Rydia Misuto: Rydia doesn’t spend money on clothes. People seem compelled to make clothes for her, it seems.

Natalya Nibiru: Natalya buys clothes to donate, though she never mentions it. For herself, in her attempts to figure out how regular people dress, she tosses around absurd amounts of money on new dresses and clothing.

A’sato Clueless/Tia: Spend money? On CLOTHES? When you can buy supplies for the family?


Gaelle Troyes: Where do you think all that conned rightfully earned money goes? Other than charity?

One word: costumes.

Hyltbryda Eyrieynwyn: Hyltbryda is the type of person who sees a shirt she likes and buys twenty so she’ll never run out.

???: Discounting repairs? Nothing.

??????h ?????????n: Buys new armor quite frequently, always from the same smith who he has an exclusivity contract with (the smith in question is well-paid enough to agree to this.)

Gui Charlemalde: Gui doesn’t get much money and gives away quite a lot of what he gets. He has his fancy, fashionable clothes because they were a gift from his family to celebrate six months of successful adventuring.

Eloise Boucher: Eloise spends more money on supplies than on clothes. She doesn’t care either way about dressing up, but has to keep up the act.

anonymous asked:

I have a question for the gang and mods! Do you do cartomancy, and if you do, what is your favorite deck! Oracle or tarot :)

Oooh, nice question! Yes I use cartomancy a lot, one of of my favourite forms of divination! I have two favourite tarots; The Egyptian Tarot and The Legend of Zelda Tarot. My favourite Oracle by far is The Desert Fox Oracle!

Gang let us know what your favourites are too! We would love to know!

-Mod Em

Oohh, questions! And for all of us, haha. My favorite deck is the only one I have at the moment. Gothic Tarot of Vampires by Riccardo Minette and Emiliano Mammucari. Look at how worn out my deck box is. 😂😂😂 I love the art. 

~ Cejay 🖖 


Here in her little apartment, that smelled of vanilla and that coconut thing she puts in her hair, we laid out on her couch. Me rubbing her legs down with lotion, while she twisted her hair. The sun reflected off the silver ring on her thumb, too big to be important but too important to not be worn. I remember the first time I put it on her finger, how lovely it looked against her dark almond skin. Her eyes danced as she told me a exciting story about her day, something about a stupid delivery man, his wandering eyes, snappy attitude and plenty of cuss words. 

She was a spectacular story teller, painting vivid images of conflict and resolve, reenacting moments of love and romance, her impressions spot on, her strategic pauses, just right. You never “had to be there”, she brought the moment to life right before your very eyes. It made me wonder how she described us, or me. What colorful ribbons of words she used to paint the man who held her during thunderstorms but wouldn’t let her win at scrabble. The man who loved her enough to risk his way of life, just to watch her pitiful salsa attempts at our favorite dance spot. The man who chose his wife over her…time and time again.

 I wondered if her face saddened during that part, does her full lips get tight and pursed when she speaks about my cowardice? Does she lace her words with venom when she describes the long, drawn out mornings before I leave her? Do her eyes stop dancing when she paints the image of nights where she has to brave the thunderstorms alone? My line cold and empty, Her calls echo to no answer. While I lay in my marital bed, choking on the perfumed smell of hairspray, yearning to inhale the coconut-hibiscus oil that coats her strands….

“babe…babe you not listening to me”

“I’m sorry…” I shake my head as if it will clear my thoughts like an etch-a-sketch

“Where did you go?”

“nowhere” I lied, “I’m here, right here with you”

“whats the last thing you heard then”

I kiss her kneecaps, biting on them softly…”I don’t remember, tell it to me again”. She rolls her eyes playfully at me as I lightly stroke the back of her knees, watching her face break out into a smile. She shoos my hands away and sits up, ready to weave a tale of debauchery and oh-he-tried-it, the little apartment bathed in a purple-pink light, as the sun sets outside her window. 

[Yumecast] Summer festival Subaru, intro drama

This is just the intro drama, so if anyone has the UR+ and would be willing to contribute screenshots, please let me know!!

Madoka: I wonder if this is really okay…

I had arrived at the place we were going to meet up, and looked around anxiously. This was the first time I had worn a yukata, and feeling so open and breezy all around my body made me nervous.

Madoka: (I got so excited when I thought about how nice it would be for us to both wear yukata when we went out together…

So I went right out and bought one in my excitement, but still… I wonder if Subaru-kun knows how to put on a yukata the right way by himself.)

As I was thinking that, I heard the pleasant clip-clop sound of geta sandals coming from nearby.

???: Heeey, Madoka–!

A tall young man waved at me from the crowd, looking handsome in his striking hexagon-patterned yukata.

Madoka: Subaru-kun!

Sorry to keep you wai—

He rushed toward me and began to say something, but his mouth just hung open in shock.

Madoka: U-, um… What’s wrong, Subaru-kun?

Subaru: …..

Madoka: Hey, Subaru-kun, are you okay–!?

I looked at him, standing in front of me with his hands positively trembling, and then, finally—

Subaru:Fwah! I-, I forgot, to breathe…

Madoka, this is really bad!

Madoka: Eh…!? So it does look weird after all? Maybe I put it on the wrong way…

Subaru: No, no, I said that you look way too cute! You just can’t hear me with your hair up like that!

Madoka: Well, that’s… I mean, I’m already wearing a yukata, so it’s only natural for me to go all out, right?

Subaru: I guess you’re right! Ah–…. Still, I’m so glad that you ended up buying a yukata~!

As Subaru-kun cheered, ever innocent, I couldn’t help but smile wide myself…

I just saw an art of Miles Edgeworth wearing Shi-Long Lang’s coat, so-

Storyline where Edgeworth has to go into icy water - maybe to save Kay - and Lang’s there at the edge when they get out, and Kay’s being looked after by the first aider/medics but Edgeworth’s just saying ‘I’m fine, focus on her’, and Lang just huffs, exasperated, and makes him take his sopping wet jacket off at least and replaces it with warm, just-worn coat with fur/sheep’s wool collar WARM.

Lang shares the proof - a photo taken when Edgeworth was relaxing because warm - with Kay later, to try and cheer her up as she recovers, and they both laugh over how stubborn an Edgeworth can be.

And the fact that yes, Miles Edgeworth did come away with a cold because of it.

One More Time [12,000] (ao3)

“I actually think Shadow saved you,” the stranger mentions on the other side of the room, hanging his coat on the rack by the now-closed door. He’s wearing red flannel underneath, checkered with green and gray, and a pair of well-worn jeans, the frayed hems covering industrial boots. Whoever he is, he’s been out here long enough to look like several stereotypes of the residents he’s only seen on television. Gloves pulled off and set on the table, he turns to Dean and waves his hand to Shadow, who then leaps off the couch to go sit by the fire. Weird. “She ran about two miles from where I found you and wouldn’t leave until I followed her. She must really love you.”

“Guess so,” Dean sighs, lets his head drop. Belatedly, he remembers how bloodshot his eyes must look and wipes them, to no avail. If the stranger notices, he doesn’t say a word, just leaves for the kitchen and comes back with a first aid kit. Dean can barely look him in the face when he sits at Dean’s bent knee, setting the box aside. “You take my pants off?”

The stranger snorts, a quiet smile splitting his lips. “It was the only way I could get to the wound. Whoever was aiming at you managed to miss everything vital, but you would’ve bled out regardless.”

“That’s reassuring,” Dean grunts. “Can I get your name first before you get a peek again?”

This time, he laughs; Dean follows along, rubbing the back of his neck in a failed attempt to hide his blush. “Castiel,” the man says, offering a hand. Dean takes it, Castiel’s skin cold from the weather. “I saved your life.”

Dean nods, swallows. “Thanks for that,” he mutters. “…Really.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Castiel shrugs.