Lightning would be the tongue
(the electric whip singeing this flesh)

Thunder– the hummingbird caged in my chest
(wings beating in wild refusal)

Rain– the switchblade in disguise
(cleansing the surface;
varnishing rust onto the back of my throat) 

Stillness– the gasp of ozone
(of dirt resurfacing)  

Sunlight– the pooling of salt deep
within the trenches of my pores
(a bitter reminder that life, it moves on)


—  sdf 123/365 | stratosphere 

anonymous asked:

What skincare products do you use?

I’m notoriously bad at maintaining routines, but skin has been acting up recently so I finally pushed myself into one. I remove my make up with whatever wipes I have on hand or sweet almond oil, cleanse (gently!) with alaffia super rich liquid african black soap, tone with witch hazel, dab spots with diluted tea tree oil and moisturize with a generic very basic gentle lotion that I mix with a lil sweet almond oil if my skin is feeling super dry. I’ve only been following this for maybe two weeks and my skin is brighter, tone is more even, old spots are super faded, the gunk in my pores on my nose has shrunk considerably and the few new spots I’ve noticed have cycled thru pretty rapidly.

anonymous asked:

I thought you didnt like zayn bald?

that doesn’t mean i would let him raw me until I felt the cum oozing from my pores lol 

I just want a deep strong rooted connection of unconditional spiritual love. so strong that I can feel it through the pores of my skin.

The semester is over

And my gold digging game is at an ultimate high. I move into my beautiful condo next weekend, my nails and eyebrows are on fleek, my pores are completely invisible, I’m transitioning from weaves to sew on wigs that cost more than my security deposit, and in 6 hours I’ll be on a plane to Los Angeles for an all expense paid weekend to meet a 68 year old Indian multi millionaire who’s obsessed with me.


gypsy-blunts asked:

Do you recommend anything for black heads? I feel like I've tried everything and no matter what get attacked by them!

Okay this might be TMI but I have black heads too and I find when using exfoliating products either abrasive or chemical my black heads are so much easier to pop! Since black heads are so deep in the pore you can’t just pop them like regular blemishes so you have to exfoliate and get rid of all the skin on top of the black head so it can rise to the surface and be easier to treat. Regular exfoliating will also prevent new black heads from forming because your pores aren’t getting clogged up. 

Two of my favorite exfoliating products are the Clarisonic and Mario Badescu Gylcolic Acid Toner. I use the Clarisonic once a day with my facial cleanser to give my skin a good, deep clean and then follow with my Glycolic Acid toner. The brush buffs away any dry skin and cleans deep in my pores while the toner is a chemical exfoliant and using gylcolic acid to buff away dead skin.

If you can’t afford a Clarisonic (even though it’s a great investment i’ve had mine for 4 years) they make cheaper alternatives!

Mario Badescu Glycolic Acid Toner $18 at Nordstrom, Ulta or online

As the shrooms kicked in, I felt beads of sweat pushing through the pores on my hands. I turned to look at Deston to see he was watching me. His eyes were so dilated they had become all but entirely black, with only a skinny rim of his usual gray-blue. I was Alice, teetering along the edges of the rabbit holes of his pupils, tempted to let myself fall, to land somewhere so deep within him even he had not yet reached it. It made him seem so vulnerable it frightened me, causing me to turn away, and I began watching the sky above me morph into an image that transcends any explanation I could ever give. The drugs injected life into every star, and they reached out to each other, clasping each others’ twinkling hands. They became a spider web of light, dancing to the rhythm of the universe. We lied there, under the canopy of the stars, as a god I didn’t know if I believed in strung them together, like diamonds on a necklace. I felt the earth breathe beneath me, and I breathed with it.

excerpt from Darling by me

I wrote a book. Special thanks to my best friend who has actually taken mushrooms and helped me write this.

anonymous asked:

Do you know any make up products that are good for people acne/acne scars because every time I buy foundation it sinks into my pores and makes my scars look more noticeable.

You should buy a pore minimizing primer, Benefit makes a good one. Also, Neutrogena is probably one of the only brands I know that makes an acne fighting/ treatment foundation:

I have stars in my eyes and constellations seared into my skin

I have galaxies carved into my heart, and comets that rip apart my throat when i speak

I am space, infinite, magical, beautiful

And who’re you to tell me I’m not, when i can taste the moon dust on my tongue?

When i can see the universe in my blood every time i get cut open? When sunshine leaks from my every pore?

Astroid belts swirl in my thoughts, sending their offspring forward so that i can tell you just how wrong you are

My glare is a black hole, and if you stare long enough you can see the swirling, angry emptiness

I am space

I am infinite

I am magical

I am beautiful

A poem on how one could literally die of missing someone.

If I should light a cigarette every time I miss you, my lungs would be as black as the night. With stars and satellites, black holes, spacecrafts, asteroids, moonbeams, and you as an ocean of light. Drowning every artery, every muscle, every piece of ribcage, everywhere in my respiratory system was a thought of you clawing its way out as I exhale.

And the ember would be the words you spoke, every single consonant and vowel flowing infinitely to my mouth like smoke signals from the woods to my lungs like forest fires or volcanic ashes covering everything inside that wasn’t gray.

And the smell would be permanent in between my middle and index finger, in every pore of my tired skin, in every fold, every scar, every fingernail, every mole, every tiny piece of hair, and neither any perfume nor bath could take it away, and I don’t want it to go anyway.

It would stain my lips and gums and teeth. Oh yes let me rot with thoughts of you. Let the nicotine color my mouth with memories of you, with songs, and poems, and laughs, and touch, and stare. Oh holy nicotine! Please let me have that feeling back.

My gums would swollen and bleed, my teeth would crack and blacken, cause what use would it be if you will never kiss me? Let my tongue burn with made-up memories, write it, draw it in the surface, because it never did happen. How foolish it is to even miss the things that never happened.


Maybe I should light a cigarette every time I miss you, a thousand sticks wouldn’t hurt.

*lights up a cigarette

Dreams Part 3: Newt Imagine

I was planning on ending this at part 2 but like three people requested this, so here it is c:. I figured I’d get this up before I head to the coast of RI tomorrow. Here’s part 1 and part 2. I realized this one wasn’t gender neutral after I wrote it I’m sorry, and I’m honestly too lazy to change it, but if any of you have a problem with it you can ask me to edit it to gender neutral and I will <3

Plot: Newt deals with reader’s disappearance into the maze and tries to figure out why.

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Newt’s POV

I can feel beads of sweat seep through the pores of my forehead and drip down the sides of my face mixing with sticky wet trails of tears. My eyes burn with unshed tears and my head is throbbing. The hair on my head sticks to my face as I heave in anger, depression, anxiety…. The love of my life is trying to kill herself, just like I did, and I can’t have that. I stare at her tired and determined face as I wait for her to reply. 

Her eyes flicker between mine and look down in defeat, “They tell me things… I mean I hear things. They talk to me,” she finally admits. 

Of course the creators wouldn’t let me keep the one thing that made me happy. They took my past, my dignity and they even took me. Figures they wouldn’t stop there. “So it’s them…” I mumble to myself. What are they telling her? But before I can even open my mouth to ask her, I feel her kick her legs from my grip and she squirms on the ground before getting to her feet and making a run for it. My instincts kick in and I let out a deafening, “No!” as I lunge at her, taking her down just before she enters the maze. My knees slam onto the ground on either side of her torso, making them bruise and bleed, but I could care less. Keeping Y/N on the right side of the wall is all I care about.

“I’m so tired,” the words drip from my mouth, barely an inch from her’s. I can feel the presence of the other gladers approaching us, but I barely notice them as the ground starts to tremble. “I’m just so tired, Y/N. I’m a terrible second-in-command and I guess I’m a terrible boyfriend too. I can’t keep the people I love safe, yet I can’t even manage to kill myself. I can’t do anything right can I?” I release in an all too honest fit of sobs. The words are a self reflection, but I can tell by the look on her face she’s guilty, so I continue. Maybe if I beg… “Please, Y/N, Please, I-”

I feel a hand grip the back of my shirt and rip me off of her, sending me crashing a meter backwards onto the soft grass. The base of my neck burns from where the collar of my shirt hit my skin. No. No this can’t be happening. My heart stops and plunges to the ground in a fit of panic. I can’t do anything but stare blankly at the girl I love shuffling backwards into the opening of the maze. 

“If Y/N wants to leave let them, but know they’re not coming back if they do,” I hear Gally’s voice growl from behind me.

I try to get to my feet to pull her back, but strong arms wrap around my forearms and pin them together behind my back with brute force. I writhe under Gally’s grip with every bit of strength I have. I scream a slew of incoherent words at her, shaking so my sweaty, greasy hair falls in front my eyes. She slowly gets to her feet walking backwards to her fate, never quite meeting my eyes. In one last attempt to persuade her to stay my mind forms an intelligible allegation. “Don’t you bloody do it Y/N! If you ever cared about me you’ll come back!”

She stops, and for a moment a glimmer of hope sheds warmth behind my chest. But I’m wrong. “They’ll kill you if I don’t,” she whispers, her voice dryer than sand, “they’ll make me.”

I feel myself cringe at the last words she was giving me, giving the entire glade. And like it was a response to her last words the walls shuddered and began to glide shut. Gally drops me to the ground in a blind expectation that I’ll just sit there; he’s an idiot. My arms are weak from all the struggling and stress, they shake violently as I push myself off the ground and dart for the walls. Her Y/E/C eyes finally make contact with mine, I can see all the sadness and regret in that one look and it kills me. I crumble to my knees as the walls come to a close, releasing a wail from the pit of my stomach. More salty tears stream down my face as I curl into a ball sobbing loudly and uncontrollably on the ground. 

“What’s going on here?” I hear a flinty voice boom. Alby and Minho push through the crowd of gladers watching the scene. “Newt?” Alby asks, confused. I look up from my fetal position and he sees my blotchy tear stained face, contorted in indescribable pain. To his right a tall Asian boy in sneakers stands, shocked and to his left, Gally, his face deadpan. 

I don’t bother answering Alby because when I see Gally standing there, an unfeeling atmosphere around him, I lose it. Hot vehement anger explodes in every part of my body and I lunge at him like a predator. “YOU WORTHLESS SHUCKING PIECE OF TRASH! I’LL KILL YOU FOR WHAT YOU DID!” I shriek at him before my fist connects with his face again and again. 

Before I can get my sixth punch in I’m being dragged off of him by my shoulders and Alby is talking to a nearby Glader, nodding and whispering. I look down at the masterpiece I had painted on Gally’s face, a busted lip, a puffy eye and his nose even more messed up than before. It’s well worth the bleeding knuckles. 

I look around the glade looking for Y/N, so she can be the first one I go to, to brag about the damage I did to Gally’s face and I suddenly remember why I tried to kill him in the first place. For a few more seconds my eyes scan for her figure in the crowd, expecting to see her standing there, an amused smirk on her perfect face illuminated by the sunset but I slowly wade out of denial. I feel my throat close in a dry cracked sob and my eyes crease in wrinkles, soaking wet. I claw at the dirt looking for something, anything comforting. 

“I can’t breathe, Minho, I can’t… I can’t….” I sob, strangled loud whimpers in between shallow breaths. I shake violently on my hands and knees, dirt caking my face and hands. “Oh my god. She’s gone,” I whisper turning to Minho, his face full of sorrow. I attempt at taking in a deep breath, trying to fill my lungs, but it feels like they’re weighed down my gravel. I can barely take in enough to speak. “I can’t breathe,” I heave gripping my chest. 

Minho looks over to see Alby motioning for Gally to be dragged to the pit. He gives a slight nod to Minho, and turns away ordering Gladers away. Minho’s hand rubs light comforting circles on my back. 

“It’ll be alright,” he whispers looking down at his knees. 

I glare at him. “Did you even hear me?!” I yell slapping his hand away. “Did you hear what I just bloody said?! She’s gone, Minho. It won’t be alright. She’s… dead,” I choke on the last word.

Minho pauses, adjusting his posture and running his hand through his spiky black hair in thought. His clothing is clean and fresh, he must have skipped running today. “You don’t know that,” he soothes. His eyes keep flickering to the doors, as if they’re actually going to open with her on the other side. He stands up from his seat and holds a hand out for me to grab. 

“Just leave me here,” I whine, lying my back against the grass, looking up at the sky whose stars are becoming clearer by the second.

“Come on, you need to eat and probably shower.”


I hear him huff, “If you don’t come on your own, I’ll drag you.”

“Try it,” I challenge him darkly. Burning embers of anger still glow inside of me, waiting to light another fire. 

He sighs and I hear light footsteps, assuming he’d given up and walked away, but I feel hands pick me up by my arms and begin to drag me. 

“Hey! I’ll walk!” I struggle from his grip and he lets go as I face plant into the ground. I get to my feet dusting my tan cargo shorts off, glaring at Minho. I didn’t realize just how weak and exhausted I was until I began walking towards the homestead. 

As we walk into the homestead for a meal, I can feel the stares on my back. Their eyes seared holes of deep grief in me, reminding me. Even Frypan had a sorrowful look in his eyes as he handed me my bowl of soup, with a slight nod. I booked it out of there as fast as possible, trying to get out of the canopy of stares. Minho and I sat under the stars, just outside of the treeline of the deadheads where I found Y/N this morning. I stare silently at my bowl of soup, nausea too fierce to let me find anything appetizing. 

“If you don’t eat, I’ll have to get Jeff and Clint to force feed you,” Minho whispered before taking in another spoonful of his dinner.

I felt like a child, unable to care for themselves. I shakily lift the spoon to my mouth and try not to gag as I finish my dinner. We get up and saunter towards the sleeping quarters. “Feeling better?” he asks. 

“What do you think?” 

He sighs, annoyed and sad following me across the glade to my shack. “She was my friend too, you know.” And for some reason this statement really sets me off. I turn to him, my glare under the night sky startling him. 

“You don’t get it, Minho,” I spit, placing my fingertips on his shoulders and pushing him back. “She was your friend. She was the bloody love of my life. I would have married her by now if we weren’t in this klunk hole. Y/N was the last thing I had left that inspired me to get up in the morning, she made me a better me. She reminded me of all the hope in the world and now she’s gone.”

He opens his mouth to speak but I interrupt him, all of my pint up emotions starting to flow out. “Yeah, I know I sound like a martyr, but can you blame me? And I don’t even know why she left! I wake up and she’s desperate to get to her death! I don’t even know if I caused this! And now I have to go back to that shuck empty bed. So don’t you dare compare your loss to mine.”

Minho’s eyes narrow underneath his furrowed brows, his mouth slightly agape. I felt a slight pang of guilt when I said that, but I don’t take it back. It only adds to the guilt building up in my stomach.

“Can you just leave me alone?” I whisper staring down at the threshold of my room that I’d come to stand in front of. I would say I’m trying to hold in tears, but I’ve run out, leaving them dry and stinging. 

“Yeah,” Minho mumbles, “just come get me if you need anything.” He turns to leave but hesitates, turning back towards me and putting his hand on my shoulder. “Before I go you need to promise me something.”


“I already lost one friend today, I can’t lose another. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid,” he quietly presses, stealing a quick glance at my bad leg. 

I sigh and nod, pushing the door open to my room leaving Minho’s empty hand to fall at his side as he turned and walked away. I close the door behind me in a deadly silence and turn around to see my bed… empty. I feel my face scrunch in anger and I stomp over flipping the mattress off of the frame violently. It crashes to the ground and I kick the leg of the frame in so the corner bent upwards. I let out a scream in frustration, not caring who hears. I could feel myself shaking uncontrollably as I picked up the chair in the far corner throwing it across the room so it smashed into the wall breaking into small pieces. 

There was barely any furniture in the room to begin with, so I quickly run out of things to let my anger out on. I turn around and lean my forehead against the wall, eyes closed. My fist connects with the wall leaving a gaping hole. I slide down, curling into a ball when I hit the ground, rocking back and forth.

I felt my self drift off into a light sleep on the ground in the only corner of the room that wasn’t littered with broken pieces of furniture. Thinking that I might be able to touch Y/N in a dream.


I wander the great corridors of the maze, the walls thickly sheathed in green vines, illuminated softly by the moonlight. It has to be around 3 or 4 in the morning now, and I’ve yet to encounter a griever, not that I’m complaining. I’d never been inside the maze before, I was just a medjack. But I have no idea where I’m supposed to be going, the voices have been silent since this morning.  Everything looks the same to me.

“Oh yeah, now you’re quiet,” I whisper acerbically.

My aimless wander leaves a light patter of my feet. I walk at an extremely slow rate, my whole body is sore and I can’t help but let my mind wander to Newt. If he’s okay, if he thinks I’m dead. I wish I could go back. The maze is silent tonight, usually you can hear the griever’s screech echo throughout the glade, but tonight everything seems calm. And I dare to let myself wonder if I’ll live through this but I’m caught off guard by an unfamiliar whirring noise echoing from around the corner.

I freeze at the ominous sound and look around the dark hallway for anything that could help me. My heart rate speeds and pounds in my chest leaving me with a case of vertigo. The vines. I spin on my heel and struggle to nestle behind them, but it’s too late. I see the ferocious beast gliding in my direction, various sharp objects protrude from it’s body and glowing red dots scan the area. When the red beams hit me, a blaring screech stabs my eardrums like knives. Naturally, I make a break for it.

“JUST TELL ME WHERE TO GO!” I shout at the invisible force that once infested my mind. “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?” my breathy shouts bounce off the walls on either side of me as I sprint down the corridors. 

My chest heaves and my arms and legs fling forward dragging me through the stale cold air of the maze. I can hear the clanks of metal hitting concrete as I push onward, adrenaline rushing through my veins, my heart palpitating with force. Times like this made me wish I’d been active in the glade; my lungs burn, craving air.

I made a sharp turn skidding on my feet and catching my balance. My eyes frantically darted around, looking for any oncoming grievers. I was lucky, until my ankle caught onto a rogue vine, causing me to crash to the ground, but I rolled back onto my feet and made a right. Then a left, then a right and another right until the only thing I could hear was the desperate push and pull of my own breaths. I slow to a stop, looking over the height of the walls to see a mixture of orange and blues in the horizon. I’m alive. 

I lean over placing my hands on my knees trying to catch my breath. Cold sweat clings to my skin, making me shiver at the chilly morning air. It’s only until I feel the rumbling that I realize I’m right back where I started, like I’d been herded here.

I turn around to see the large opening, growing wider, revealing more and more boys staring in awe at my battered body. I’m equally as shocked as the gladers who wonder how I’m still alive. I don’t what hurts more, my body begging for me to collapse on the ground or the fact that Newt wasn’t in the crowd but my knees give out and I collapse anyways.

Newt’s POV

“Newt. Newt wake up,” a raspy voice spoke in my ear before shaking me. 

“Leave me alone.”

“Newt, she’s back.”

My eyes shoot open to an excited Minho staring down at me in the warmth of the early sunlight. My heart skips a beat and I raise myself from the pile of old clothes on the floor I slept on. I wonder if this is a dream, there’s no possible way…

“Don’t lie to me Minho,” I say, hoping to god he wasn’t.

“I’m not! She’s in the homestead.”

“Is she okay?” I urge, already making my way to the door. “I’m going to see her.”

“Newt! Wait!” I hear him call after me as I sprint to the homestead, tears welling up in my eyes.

Before I can slam the door open to her room, a hand pulls my shoulder back turning me to face a weary Jeff. He shakes his head at me, his face calm and relaxed, which eases my nerves.

“You can go in there, but you have to be quiet. She’s in bad shape and needs a lot of rest,” he whispers placing a finger to his mouth. 

“Is she hurt? Will she be okay?” I try to dig for any information, growing more and more impatient as the seconds tick away. I tap my foot nervously on the ground outside of the door, never taking my eyes off of Jeff. Minho runs into the hallway and Jeff nods slightly, signaling to leave.

“She twisted her ankle, has some cuts and bruises, but mostly she just hasn’t slept in days. She’ll be fine.”

At that I push open the door and my eyes rest on a familiar shape, hidden underneath the covers. Their chest rises up and down in a soft reassuring rhythm. All the pain, and mourning seems to drain out of me and float away when I walk up to her and see her face, color in her cheeks and mouth slightly open breathing softly. 

I can’t help but crawl under the sheets with her, and wrap my arms around her torso. I breathe in her scent, relieved at the still sweet smell. My arms lock around her waist as I rest my cheek on hers, counting her steady breaths and feeling her warmth. She’s not getting away this time. 

I’m sorry if this wasn’t up to expectation, I just want to start writing other imagines. If anyone wants a fourth, ask and I’ll make it I have a slight idea of what it’ll be but it’ll be the last one since my heart isn’t really in this anymore. Also feel free to send me prompts or requests c: xx 

anonymous asked:

hey jovan i have issues with big nasty pores on my face (nose/uppercheeks mostly..) and dont know what types of masks or anything to try? i recently got a new wash that is working pretty well but i dont know what else to use with it, and what moisturizers wont clog them

blackheads? you might be talking about blackheads, get a blackhead scrub/remover and then just use a light tinted moisturizer with SPF 15 and itll make them look smaller 

deanswingsbothways replied to your post “sorry in advance if this ask will get really whiny: i’ve always had a…”

Your skin is truly amazing though. I love it. I love this whole rant in general but HOW DO YOU SEE IMPERFECTIONS all I see is sweet creamy skin.

by looking at it LIKE THIS

Stonewood Forest

I sat under the
peach tree in those
days, watching
the sun set on my
bandaged home while my
mom chain smoked on
the porch. I would glance at
the girls playing
kickball in the cement circle
that was our block and
butterflies would get stuck
inside my ribcage. I knew I
didn’t have a chance with
any of them when they would
drill degradation into my
ears but I didn’t care.
I was young and
hope burst from my
pores, even when disease
and funerals tried to
hold it back. Sometimes I would
play with the child next door
or my best friend. We
were all alone in the
throes of that
suburban malnourishment. I
haven’t seen the kid next
door since I moved and
my best friend has
cancer. Me? I’m just
a fool writing about
buried days. These poems
peel from my
fingertips like the flowers
that were on my bedroom
wall. I still see the old
neighborhood sometimes in
my dreams, it’s love and
filth perfectly preserved. I
want to go back
there. I
want to
set it all
on fire.