skin map

Spanish

Quise salirme un poco de mi estilo normal de semi chibi xd y como no tenia sueño salio esta sombra bien chingona ;^)

English

Well I had a little insomnia and did not know what to do with my life so start drawing … end with a …. sombrea bien chingona! 

ahahah ……I’m sleepy, I can die now.

[ english is not my native language, sorry!! ]

The Archeron Sisters

Feyre - skinned knees, messy braids, chilly winds, a clear night sky, splinters, the first sunlight, sloppy kisses, frayed paintbrushes, the silence of the woods, billowing smoke, moonlight, worn out boots, the colour of bruises, dreams and nightmares, the smell of crisp air 

Elain - slim fingers, dishevelled hair, muddied shoes, the smell of gardenias, satin ribbons, grass stains, freckles, the buzzing of bees, squinty eyes when smiling, lazy mornings, blushing cheeks, sunburnt shoulders, secret romances, fresh strawberries, butterflies

Nesta - running a finger over book spines, a crackling fire, the clicking of high heels, curtains blowing in the wind, dark purples and light blues, sunsets that look like the sky is on fire, pomegranate seeds, thunderstorms, pale skin, exploring maps, piano music, corsets

like real people do p.2 | jungkook

summary: the feelings for your friends with benefits are changing. months pass, and you feel your gut telling you that you want more. you’re just not sure if he feels the same.

college student!reader, friends with benefits!jungkook

piece 1, piece 2, piece 3

this component is based off russ’s cherry hill

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Dirty Admissions

Summary: You use a jealous Pietro’s ignorance to your own advantage to get him to admit your relationship
Warnings: swearing, almost smut
A/N: I was reading through old requests at 1:00 because I couldn’t sleep and this happened #sorrynotsorry

“You’ve been fucking each other for how long now?”

“Four months, three weeks, and five days,” you answered Natasha’s question, taking another sip of your drink and running your hand across your face in an attempt to conceal your embarrassment.

“And neither of you are fucking anyone else?”

“No,” you said, pressing your lips together and regretting your existence. Natasha had caught you sneaking from his room early Thursday morning, your hair a mess and your shorts in your hand. “Neither I nor Piet are fucking anyone else, Nattie.”

“Yet no one knows and neither of you will admit you’re together?”

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left box is pharah, right box is mccree

four different white characters with varying white skin tones 

same map, same lighting, no excuses 

them: can you rap?

me: you tell me

me: KID HONESTLY I COULD GO ON AND ON I CAN EXPLAIN EVERY NATURAL PHENOMENON THE TIDE THE GRASS THE GROUND AH THAT WAS MAUI JUST MESSIN AROUND I KILLED AN EEL I BURIED ITS GUTS SPROUTED A TREE NOW YA GOT COCONUTS WHATS THE LESSON WHAT IS THE TAKE AWAY DONT MESS WITH MAUI WHEN HES ON A BREAKAWAY AND THE TAPESTRY HERE IN MY SKIN IS A MAP OF THE VICTORIES I WIN LOOK WHERE I’VE BEEN I MAKE EVERYTHING HAPPEN LOOK AT THAT MINIAMAUIATIPPITYTAPPIN HA HA HA HA HA HA HEY

them: holy shit

percyyoulittleshit  asked:

♤: Taking a bath together

♤ Taking a bath together | Percabeth 

It was dark. Percy fisted his hands in the sheets, sweat making his shirt cling to his skin. He looked around, searching for the last echoes of his nightmares but found nothing. Next to him was an empty, cold spot where Annabeth should’ve been. 

Percy leaned forward, pressing his hands to the back of his neck and panting. Gods, he hated this feeling of helplessness, of need, of an emptiness in his chest and an aching in his lungs and fear making his limbs tight and grief—

He tore out of bed, shoving the sheets away. He needed—

Percy didn’t know what he needed. His mind raced. Run, run, air, air, gotta breathe. 

The golden light spilling out from under the bathroom door made him pause. Just for a moment. 

Annabeth, he thought, stumbling to the door. She must’ve come home late, like she did some nights. Thinking of Annabeth helped; he focused on the thought of her, of her hand in his, of her smile, the way she looked at him. 

“Annabeth,” he called, voice hoarse. His hands were knocking before he could stop himself. 

The sound of running water stilled. There was the squeaking of bare feet against the ground, and then the bathroom door cracked open. Annabeth, dripping wet, saw him, and her expression immediately softened. 

“Percy,” she said, and he walked into her arms. “Percy, it’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” he said into her neck, and she rubbed her hands up and down his back. He was still shaking; he didn’t know why he was so scared, just that he was. His dreams had been full of losing her. 

“We made it, Percy,” she whispered, and he let her take his hands. “Together.”

“Together,” he murmured, and his racing heart began to calm. She led his hands up her body, the way she knew he liked to. He let his fingers run over bare skin, mapping out every part of her, taking comfort in the warmth under his hands. She was here, and she was real, flesh and bone and beating heart. 

“Here,” she said after a moment, tugging his shirt over his head. Percy pulled off the rest of his clothes, and Annabeth climbed into the bathtub, their hands still together. 

He followed her, the two of them sinking into warm water that felt soothing to his tight muscles. 

“Sorry,” he said again, and Annabeth shifted at his back. He turned his head so he could see her. 

Lithe arms wrapped around him; wet tresses of hair fell over his shoulder. Percy suddenly wanted to cry. Annabeth had always been too good to him. 

“Shampoo?” he asked a beat later, and she passed him the bottle. They switched so he could work shampoo into her hair, the smell of lemon drifting in the air. Steam clouded around them, and Percy took a deep, steady breath, then another. 

“I missed you today,” Annabeth said, her voice calm and quiet, fingers trailing over his thigh, “but work was really good. We were running interviews today — you know how Chiron is looking for interns — and they all went really well. I have my eye on this girl from NYU…”

Percy let her words wash over him, and something in his chest settled. She kept talking, pausing only to run her hair under water, letting him run his fingers through her locks. He leaned back against the rim of the bathtub, and she curled up on his chest. 

“Thanks,” he said when she’d trailed off, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. Percy kissed her hand, and she smiled at him. 

“Here,” she said, lifting the soap bar, and he ducked his head obediently, pressing his chin to her shoulder and kissing it. 

“I love you,” he murmured against her skin, and he felt her pause, soap and fingers at his back. 

She didn’t need to say it; her hands at his back was enough, and so was the kiss she pressed to the side of his face. But she said it anyways.

“I love you, too,” Annabeth said, and the last of nightmares swirled down the drain.

pick one of the following and send me a pairing! (non-sexual acts of intimacy)

Drawing the King’s Card (Requested)

Originally posted by lullabyun

OTP(s): Yixing x Reader 

Genre: Smut, fluff

Word Count: 5,036

Sypnosis: Yixing recieved something he didn’t expect, but so did you.

Request: (from Anonymous) Yixing comes home after a long day of work so you give him a pretty intense massage in the living room, but once he joins you in the bedroom he finds you wearing a unicorn outfit (or lingerie and some kind of unicorn horn thing idk??) And that results to loads of smutty sex with a dom Lay?


A delicious breeze rolled through the house, rumpling the clothes of the sleeping figure flattened on the sofa. Her (y/h/c) tresses flowed silkily along the curves of her chest and she tightly grasped a large, soft pillow for comfort. Its scent carried the contents she deeply adored — the strong, robust whiffs of cologne, the sweet droppings of fruit, the soft waft of tea. The more the smell swelled in her face, the longer she slept.

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anonymous asked:

For hannigram fluff therapy can you write about hannibal being the little spoon..

Hannibal was sleeping soundly. Will sat near the window, watching the rise and fall of his shoulders, eyes tracing the slope of his back. The faded Verger brand. The gnarl of an exit wound. The deep gashes from the ocean battering his body against the cliff face. Hannibal’s skin was a veritable map of their years together.

A thought overcame Will then. Pressing himself against that skin–feeling its warmth, holding Hannibal close–was a need all consuming. He rose from his chair and stripped off his shirt. On the bed, Hannibal stirred.

“Will?”

“Go back to sleep. I was just thinking about joining you.”

Hannibal glanced over his shoulder, then turned his face back into the pillow. When Will crawled onto the bed beside him, Hannibal stiffened and then stilled.

Will hesitated before slinging his arm around Hannibal’s middle. “Is this alright?”

“More than.”

Will nestled in behind him, his arm hanging loosely around Hannibal’s waist. As he moved closer, his grip tightened, and soon the expanse of Hannibal’s back–and so much warmth–was snuggled warmly against him.

“I’m sorry for waking you,” Will said. “I just…”

“Do you truly think you need to apologize for this?”

Hannibal’s heart thumped beneath his ribs, rattling Will’s chest. “Were you wishing I would do something like this?”

“It seems I’ve been waiting for it all my life.”

Will laughed, a nervous little sound that shook them both. “Good to know.”

“What have you been wishing for?”

Will closed his eyes and nuzzled into Hannibal’s hair. “Not sure. Maybe this, though I didn’t know it at the time.”

“Through each other, we’re forever finding ourselves.”

Will pressed his palm flat against Hannibal’s sternum. His heart drummed steady in Will’s hand, and soon Will could no longer tell its beat from his own.


[hannigram fluff therapy] | [tip jar]

Motherhood is such a beautiful part of a woman’s life and I’m so happy you chose to embrace it.
It’s 9 months of a person growing inside of you.
9 months of all those chemical, hormonal changes in your body and stretch marks spreading across your skin like maps to places you forget to love, bringing out all the softness you buried under your chest when the world got too rough.
9 months of every side of you that’s still learning how to heal.
None of it all matters when that tiny bundle is cradled in your arms, struggling to keep her eyes open.
I hope you’re not too rough pushing her out of the nest and teaching her how to fly.
I know you’re scared for her future and for your own, but there’s nothing wrong with taking a little more time in learning how to get back on your feet and walk again.
I hope you teach your child to be brave enough to fall over and over again because you’ll always be there to pull her back up so that the pitter-patter of her footsteps and the melody of her giggles resonate through your house, which has forgotten it was ever quiet.
I hope you teach her to get trapped in the web of her own head and fall in love with the things that save her.
I hope you teach her to be loving and caring, to know the difference between fairytales and snares, to stumble on rocks and bleed but to never stop craving the smell of fresh mud after the rain under her feet.
I hope you teach her to believe in the marvel of her curious wide eyes and scraped knees, because even when you catch a butterfly and she sheds her colours on your palms, she doesn’t stop escaping and fluttering her wings.
I hope you teach her how important it is to follow your own heart because you never want her to grow old and realise that in her pursuit for stability, she forgot how to be happy.
But most of all, I hope you teach her to be kind. To learn to love the fuzzy feeling of warmth spreading across her chest and her palms every time a wide smile stretches itself across someone’s face because she’d rather buy them food than save all her paychecks for jewellery she’d never use.
To teach her to be happy with being called crazy every time she’s grinning and excitedly talking about how she rescued a mangled puppy off the streets to give it a home.
To teach her how the world runs on these random acts of kindness but everyone is so deeply immersed in their own troubles that they forget how important it is to smile.
Last of all, I hope you teach her to say, “I love you” and never not mean it.
—  Tamarind Fall; Writing prompt: To the friend who is pregnant and about to give birth.
Face Mapping: What Your Skin is Telling You About Your Health.

The skin is the largest organ of the body. It protects us from microbes, the elements and helps regulate body temperature. 

Skin also tries to tell us when something in our body isn’t quite balanced. 


No matter how many products and spot treatments you use, banishing acne isn’t so easily solved with skin care products. You’ll find pimples fading away one day only for new ones to form a few days later. A person’s physical and mental health has more to do with their skin’s appearance than the expensive, foreign products they religiously apply. A few blemishes here and there are nothing to worry about, but If you find yourself with chronic acne that won’t seem to go away, it’s time to take a closer look at what your skin is trying to tell you.

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elegy in two

(post-4x20 pseudo-speculative.)

i. ophelia.

‘don’t, please don’t touch me,’ he says, flinching back, sparking hurt in her eyes. she shows off her new skin and thinks he’ll find her beautiful. she can’t understand that she has burned a lifetime of memories he doesn’t want against the backs of his eyes. she stands in front of the mirror and sees an angel; he cowers from the devil.

‘please let me go,’ he says, because he knows and she knows this room is not his prison. because the ghost of a hand on his is enough to choke him. if she lets him go it’s because she knows he’ll never escape.

‘everything is so new and i am infinite,’ she tells him. she learns with lust, relishes the taste of even minor annoyances on her tongue. he sits in her shadow and wonders what it must feel like to start over. he imagines his brain unfurled like parchment: what would he erase first? he prays for a magical place.

she can’t reprogram his revulsion, the way her presence makes him retch. she can no longer draw promises from his lips. she doesn’t understand.

‘someday you will understand,’ he says.
‘but i understand the universe now. what else is there to know?’
she doesn’t understand why he craves the knife more than her caress.

to be human is to break and this is what breaks her: when his only action is to lead the team to her door, when he allows another woman to lead him out, when he does not once look back.

ii. jemma.

‘don’t, please don’t touch me,’ he says. she is still perfect but he has lost the right to the intimacy of her hand in his. her body is a warzone and he reads on her skin a mapping of his sins. here, he thinks, is where i betrayed you. here is where i will never forgive myself.

‘please let me go,’ he says, because this room cannot hold the weight of his grief, and she never agreed to share a bed with his demons. she does not touch him but remains tethered to his side, a string connecting their hearts, pulled as taut as it will go.

‘what i feel for you is so old and infinite,’ she whispers, ‘like we’ve been wrapped up in each other for so many lifetimes we don’t know where we begin.’ she is luminescent; he watches from the shadows and wonders what it must feel like to have only the burden of a single history. now he will always have lived a lifetime without her.

he begs her not to try; someday she will understand.
‘what will i understand?’
that her touch burns through him like consecrated water. that he’d never known rebirthing could be so painful. that he will pass through a thousand karmic cycles and never deserve the tenderness in her eyes. 

she stands on the shore as waves crash against his body. he wants the feeling of saltwater filling his lungs, but she lifts him back up every time. he can’t let her keep rescuing him; soon they will both be too exhausted to fight.

‘we promised we’d get through anything together.’

‘yes,’ he says, ‘but not this.’ these are not in the wedding vows i planned, he thinks. you’re meant to be so much happier.

‘yes,’ she says. ‘this.’

to be human is to break. to break and to break and to try again. he hands her his heart, because she has always kept it safe. because he has lived without it before.

he says: ‘take it, jemma’ and so she does.

powerful

Originally posted by vulcanide

request by @dylanlover24: fluff where its like at an award showcan it have a few parts to with other idols reaction to it and can it be where im part of blackpink please?

otp(s): jackson wang x reader

word count: 1,578

genre: fluff

sypnosis: jackson discovers how strong love can be.

author’s note: using a new format, but if u guys don’t like it i can change it, np!


stunning.

the only term that penetrated jackson wang’s mind as he watched her/im, gliding and maneuvering along the stage, so beautifully deep in the spell of the music. 

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anonymous asked:

Keith tracing the freckles on Lance's skin and mapping them out like he would the stars in the sky

BINCH!!!!!!! THIS IS SO EMO AND SAPPY I FUCKING LOVE IT!!!!! I’M GONNA DELIVER!!! THIS IDEA IS GOING TO BE DRAWN SJFJEN

What I need is perspective. The illusion of depth, created by a frame, the arrangement of shapes on a flat surface. Perspective is necessary. Otherwise there are only two dimensions. Otherwise you live with your face squashed up against a wall, everything a huge foreground, of details, close-ups, hairs, the weave of the bedsheet, the molecules of the face. Your own skin like a map, a diagram of futility, criscrossed with tiny roads that lead nowhere. Otherwise you live in the moment. Which is not where I want to be.
—  Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale
3

This may have been just me that didn’t notice but that’s wasn’t Reinhardt in the Last Bastion clip it was Balderich von Adler. He was the leader of the Crusaders who fought during the Omnic Crisis. His body can be found in the new map Eichenwalde along with many Omnic corpses.

Reinhardt is also getting a new skin based off of him.