slow dust

I think I could watch dust forever.

so I stayed at this cabin earlier this summer. one day I woke up at 5a.m. and saw the incredible light coming through the front door. I couldn’t just let it go and fall asleep again. I set my camera up, shook some old pillows and caught this beautiful second before the wind blew all of this out



ff-sunset-oasis  asked:

Heyyyy Andrea so I'm just wondering what are your thoughts on Blaise Zabini's mom? Like, I'm always love how you occasionally slipped her into your stories with Blaise, usually just some passing mention but the descriptions always got me very intrigued - so just want to ask what's your thoughts/views about her? Thanks <3

HA HA it’s not like I’ve been waiting my entire life for someone to ask me about blaise zabini’s mother or anything that would be dumb that would be i ns a ne im fine let’s do this:

  • for nineteen years, her name is elizabeth.
  • lizzie, her father calls her, with the same sort of simple, incredulous affection he directs at her mother—her mother, the witch, who brews potions that smell like anise and cinnamon, who wrinkles her nose at the rolling green hills of the english countryside, who wears a gleaming silver scorpion pendant around her neck and tells elizabeth bedtime stories about hot desert nights and crumbling pyramids and brilliant, scheming queens who spilled blood and conquered continents and stole thrones—and all with small, secret smiles on their faces.
  • elizabeth isn’t lizzie.
  • elizabeth goes to hogwarts; lizzie does not.
  • elizabeth is sorted into slytherin; lizzie is not.
  • elizabeth slinks through the halls, learns how to listen and how to lie and how to levitate a peacock feather; lizzie does not. elizabeth collects lipsticks she’s too young for, slick crimsons and glossy violets, highlights the arches of her cheekbones with burnished bronze powder and lines her eyes in liquid, velvety black; lizzie does not. elizabeth speaks and says nothing, lowers her gaze and sees everything, enchants as effortlessly as she entraps; lizzie does not.
  • instead, lizzie goes home for the summer, braids her hair into two neat plaits and picks wildflowers with her father, laughs pretty and easy and loud, loud like she can’t when she’s at school, because the dungeons have high ceilings and long memories and an alarming tendency to produce variables she knows she can’t control; not like elizabeth can.
  • elizabeth doesn’t make mistakes.  
  • lizzie does.
  • lizzie is eighteen and punching her time card at the ministry and dreaming about palm trees swaying in a heavy summer breeze, about pillows of sand slipping through her fingertips, about crystal blue skies and sheer linen dresses and skin tanned a dark, silky brown by the heat of the sun.  
  • and she meets a boy. a man. a visiting diplomat with a lilting accent and a fan of laugh lines around his eyes and a luxuriously appointed suite at the savoy that starts to feel like home—too much, too soon.  
  • “you’re beautiful,” he tells her, and it’s elizabeth whose mouth curves up slyly, invitingly, as she replies, “i know.”
  • “you’re perfect,” he tells her, and it’s lizzie whose heart races, whose breath skips, whose lips tremble as she replies, “i know.”
  • “i love you,” he tells her, and she doesn’t know where elizabeth stops and lizzie begins when she replies, “i love you, too.”
  • and he buys her extravagant gifts and he makes her extravagant promises and then he unceremoniously leaves; goes back to italy—to his wife, to his children, to his peach-pink villa on the mediterranean coast with the sweeping balconies and the sparkling turquoise swimming pool—the day before she realizes she’s pregnant.  
  • the ensuing rage—it’s quiet, really, a low, sad, gentle simmer deep in the pit of her stomach that could rock her to complacency if she let it.  
  • she doesn’t let it.
  • instead, she considers her options. she sends a letter. she opens her own gringott’s vault. she calmly answers, “morning sickness,” when her nosiest coworker asks why she’s been late all week. she sends another letter. she moves into a nicer flat, the kind with a doorman and a concierge and a lot of wealthy neighbors. she develops a strange craving for candied dates. she bides her time.
  • elizabeth calls it justice; lizzie calls it blackmail.
  • the day after she discovers she’s having a boy, she sends one last letter, dusts the slow-drying ink with a gold-tinged powder that smells like anise and cinnamon, and she thinks about hazy, blistering sunsets shimmering red and yellow and orange, about wide-open limestone palaces and gods that expect you to start wars for them and buttery leather sandals caked brown with old blood.  
  • elizabeth calls it justice; lizzie calls it revenge.
  • five months later, she’s gritting her teeth and squeezing the midwife’s hand and desperately wondering if the pain will ever end.  
  • it does.
  • and then she’s staring down at a baby—hers, hers—and he’s impossibly tiny and impossibly warm and impossibly helpless. his mouth relaxes into a pout, and his eyes slit open, glassy and unfocused and so dark they might as well be colorless.  
  • she names him blaise.
  • she names him blaise because blaise is a name that can’t be cut in half, and she watches him sleep while the midwife lectures her about feedings and nappies and the bare spot on her finger where a wedding ring should be. there’s a tightness in elizabeth’s chest, fierce and fearful, both, that does nothing but multiply the longer she looks at him, her son, and she understands—suddenly, and with a perfect stab of clarity—why her father had wanted her to be lizzie.
  • no one has ever hurt her twice.
  • no one will ever hurt him at all.

i dead been trying to figure out how to do transparent/glass objects for like 2 months now and i can’t. like i’ll try for 2 mins and nothing works and then i give up again until another 2 weeks or so. 

the alpha is so confusing to me like idk how to make it look like how it’s suppose to. and everyone i’ve asked doesn’t know either though. who knows how to make glass/transparent objectssssss?? if you do i’d love you forever if you can lend a handddddd or maybe some advice pleaseee and thanksss.

and up

i write this to you
by scratching inside the walls.

a tendril of shadow
shaped of knives,
more than one,



carves slow.

carves slow
leaving splinters and dust
on cold ground.

i lick a thin iron pipe,

there are dreams such as me,
a black smoke in the synapses.
i climb up to the second floor,
leaving bent nails behind.
cherry stems.
i am up in your ceiling.
consider me your thousand unseen spiders.

of obsidian dread,
crawl to the rooftop,
and rest there.
we look up,
and up,
and up…

there are burning rafters roped loosely to stars up there.
there are cobwebs with jeweled insects hanging everywhere up there.
it is a grand treehouse that is falling apart up there.
i am up there,
looking down on us.

we scatter with realization,
and return to the place behind the walls.
we become one again,
and i take a deep breath.
i put that breath in my hidden pocket for later.

i will need it for my next magic trick.


Originally posted by xhemmohugsx


ship » Luke & Y/N

rating » R (pwp: ORAL SEXXXXXX)

author’s note/warnings » dedicated to hannah, @tadpolehemmings, ‘cause she’s finally, finally, finally my friend after a million frickin’ years! enjoy, this was requested (basically just smut) but not the i took the detailed prompt from this post, enjoy!

You thought venues holding such huge bands would have good security – big, burly security guards by every entrance and exit, their stares demeaning and intimidating as you passed. This was 5 Seconds of Summer, for Christ’s sake – they were practically the kings of the pop punk music industry. You didn’t understand why you were wild enough to accept the dare and try to sneak in one of the forgotten entrances backstage – you assumed it would be a dead end, and if it wasn’t, you’d apologize and return to fully enjoy the show. So, armed with your phone’s flashlight, you crawled your way over to the dusty door. After a few sneezing fits, you gazed back at your expectant friends, who were gesturing for you to enter.

Keep reading

The silence was unnerving after so much noise.


His voice was quiet, barely a whisper. The world around them had seemed to slow down as the dust fell, the enemy fleeing whilst the dragons huddled in a corner, breathing heavily.

Astrid was dusting herself off after the fight, one hand holding onto Stormfly, her fingers clinging on tight to the scales like she was afraid to let go.

Astrid had almost died in the fight. She’d been grazed by one of the enemy catapults and lost her grip on Stormfly, and for one horrible moment, Hiccup had watched while she’d plummeted down below, his breath stopping when she’d almost hit the ground, before Stormfly swooped down and pulled her back up. For just a second, Hiccup had to confront the idea that he might have to go on in an Astrid-less world, and the thought had been too much for him to bear.

“That was a close one,” she said, after he’d moved over towards her.

Hiccup frowned. “Too close.”

“Don’t look at me like that, I got out fine,” she muttered, after she saw his expression. She turned back to give Stormfly’s chin a scratch. “I’m just glad Stormfly’s okay.”

Before Hiccup gave a thought over what he was about to do, he stepped forward, put a finger under Astrid’s chin, and tilted her head back so that he could kiss her.

Astrid was still for a moment, but then she pulled him closer, her arms winding around Hiccup’s shoulders, her hands running through his hair. Hiccup’s arms wrapped around her waist, catching her as she stumbled, holding on as tight as he could.

Their lips parted, and Hiccup pressed another to her nose before pulling her into a tight hug.

“I’m just really, really glad you’re alive,” he whispered.

Astrid didn’t say anything, she just pulled him into another kiss.

Learn to Fly - A Fairy Tail Fic Ch. 2

Summary: The world is split into two realms - the mortal and the spirit. In this world, demons attack humans and the winged protect them. When Levy gets shoved headfirst into the spirit realm, she will have to adjust her whole way of living and learn to deal with a moody dragon winged Gajeel. AU vaguely based on the manga plot.

Rated: T

Chapter 2

Elsewhere another pair of dragon-like wings flexed. The wingspan alone distinguished the owner from Natsu – never mind the metallic black colouring, or the small iron studs littered across the edges in between 3 razor sharp metal spikes, evenly spaced along the top of each wing.  Gajeel sighed as he rolled his shoulders; his foes lay fallen at his feet, as he turned they began to disappear into dust slowing dispersing into the air.

“Weaklings.” Gajeel huffed; demon hunting just didn’t give him the same thrill any more, there was just no challenge in hunting down three new demons barely formed. They didn’t even have any control over their magic and Gajeel barely had to resort to any of his more advanced moves deciding to fist-fight his way to victory. As he turned away he came face to face with a large white-winged ebony cat that hovered close by; sword and guard up.

“Well that took no time at all” Panther Lilly muttered as he lowered his buster sword and looked around in slight disbelief.

“Hmph can say that again” Gajeel replied, Lilly noted how disappointed the iron dragon looked - this had been the third mission in a row which had been ‘too easy’ by the man’s standards. Granted anything that didn’t leave him in a hospital was too easy so Lilly wasn’t going to complain.

“I’ll have to have a few rounds with Salamander if I’m gonna get a proper workout, Gihi” Gajeel suddenly grinned to himself, the prospects of a decent fight putting him in a terrifyingly good mood. Lilly simply sighed; of course he wouldn’t stay down for long, the Exceed allowed his body to shift to his smaller form and began drifting in the direction of home.

"Let’s go then; Mira promised there would be a new delivery of kiwi today.” Both Lilly and Gajeel took to the sky and in the direction of home. It wasn’t long before the two soon entered a friendly, but by no means gentle, race to see who would make it to the guild first. Taking advantage of the changing air currents Lilly gained a small lead, using his more flexible body to move with the air, but it was a trivial thing to the wings of a dragon. Strong muscles contracted, shooting Gajeel forward and in front of an unhappy Lilly.

Before the Exceed could attempt a comeback the race was over with Gajeel crashing through the guild’s main door, narrowly avoiding a collision with several other guild members, before landing rather roughly in the middle of the hall. Lilly floated by soon after, humoured by the fact no-one had even batted an eyelash; this was Fairy Tail after all, it took more than an almost-crash landing to cause a scene.

The place was rowdy as ever; people were talking, drinking, flying, brawling and everything in between. As Gajeel dusted himself off and made his way to the bar, he noted the fire dragon slayer being lectured by a pissed off Erza – clad in her standard (or casual? Gajeel wasn’t sure) armour. Her wings were a combination of various sword-like feathers sharp and poised for any unfortunate soul who wondered too close. They were flared out in anger as she scolded Natsu for yet more damage done to the building. Only when he saw her pointing to the ceiling did Gajeel notice the gaping hole in the roof from where Salamander had decided to nosedive into the guild. He grimaced; Natsu would be too busy fixing that under Titania’s watchful glare to have any kind of brawl with him – not that that had stopped him before.

Gajeel ordered his usual drink from the bar and watched as Mira turned to grab a glass. As soon as she turned her back, Gajeel heard the tell-tale noise of Salamander and the Ice Princess trash-talking - in front of Titania no less, earning yet another metal-clad scolding from the woman.

“Dumb-ass’” Gajeel sneered. He briefly considered not perusing his goal of kicking their collective asses. Two on one would definitely give him the challenge that he desired. But with Erza’s continuous surveillance it was more likely he would get his ass kicked for causing a fight. In spite of this, the itch for a good brawl outweighed any common sense he had. Slamming back his drink and Gajeel began to make it way towards the heated argument still occurring between the three winged ones.

Lilly continued to sit happily munching on kiwi and chatting to the ever smiling demon-winged barmaid Mira, their conversation had inevitably turned into a gossip session about the occurrences that had occurred while he had been away. He interrupted briefly to question where he partner was storming off to; upon realising it was to his inevitable doom Lilly merely continued his pleasant conversation with Mira. One day the man might learn not to pick a fight but today was clearly not that day.

However before Gajeel could even make it half of the way there, a low cough caught his sensitive ears. A swift glace to the end of the bar showed an apparently sleeping Makarov, crossed legged on the bar top and a large wooden staff in-hand. The guild-master was a short elderly fellow, and while his bee-like wings and sleepy posture may fool some people; Gajeel, unfortunately, knew better. With an overdramatic sigh he redirected himself to sit on the closest barstool to the snoozing master and waited for what he knew would be a day-ruining conversation.

After a brief moment Makarov apparently ‘woke up’ and smiled at the scowling man, impervious to his moody temper “How’d the mission go?” He innocently asked.

“Too easy, they didn’t stand a chance, Gihi” Gajeel allowed himself to grin back at the master, before his gaze darkened. “Cut the crap old man, what’s happening now?” Gajeel’s gaze moved upward and focused on the ceiling, something big was coming he could feel it in the air.

“I was hoping you could answer that for me.” Makarov paused and looked up alongside the iron dragon; the hole Natsu had conveniently provided allowed them to see the gradually darkening sky. Blue’s mixed with orange as the sun began to set - sadly such beauty was lost on the two men who spoke of more sinister things.

“The council have reported a huge surge in demon sightings, but few attacks – it’s like he’s being picky about who they go after.” He continued, keeping his voice low in an attempt to not to draw too much attention.

A moment of silence passed as Gajeel offered no input to the master’s statement. As Makarov realised Gajeel was actually refusing to speak on the subject in their current environment, he decided they should move to his office where they could discuss more freely. As they slipped out of the guild hall Makarov noticed a few of the more nosy members taking a keen interest in their movements. ‘No wonder Gajeel elected to stay quiet’ Makarov mused, appreciating the man’s consideration, this was not a matter for his family; yet.

As they both entered a small but cosy looking office, the master repositioned himself cross-legged on his desk, while Gajeel leaned against the far wall deep in thought. After a long pause Gajeel spoke up. “Jose hasn’t contacted me in a long time. Last I heard he wanted me to 'build up trust’ while he attempted to plot with Hades and Ivan” Gajeel said while Makarov let out a sigh in response.

“I imagine he will want an update soon” Gajeel added, almost reluctantly.                                                    

“He will know that we know about his movements, he isn’t exactly subtle” He resisted the urge to groan in despair. The master felt helpless; there must be something they were missing. “What about the demon dimension?” This had to be their end goal, Makarov was certain, demons craved power and that was the biggest source of it. As an added plus Jose had always being vying for the attention of the larger more powerful demons; what better way to get it?

“Nothin’ so far” Gajeel replied, equally frustrated at the lack of information. “Sorry old man – they’ve been limiting contact, might be getting suspicious” Gajeel offered a rare look of sympathy – he knew the stakes here, a lot of humans/winged could get hurt if they failed to stop whatever they were plotting.

“Can’t say I’m surprised, demons aren’t known for their trust and companionship.” The pair sat again in silence before the master spoke up again “I’m sending you to where most of the sighting have occurred – let Jose know we’ve given you a patrol area for a few months as a sign of trust, maybe he’ll get you involved in whatever they are searching for.” Makarov nodded to himself

“Is this an actual sign of trust?” Gajeel ventured, his hands sure as hell weren’t clean but this was the second chance that could save him from the edge. So what if he was a little hopeful?

“I’ve trusted you from the start, brat. Forgiven however…” Makarov’s voiced faded, the threat clear as the wrinkles in his skin.

“Whadda ‘bout Lilly?” Gajeel asked, slightly uncomfortable with the death glare coming his way. Saying that, he was also concerned for his cats safety – sure the badass feline could easily take care of himself; but he wasn’t about to go getting him mixed up in something he shouldn’t be involved in.

“Take him if you wish; you can split up the area observe more of it while giving him the space to get out should things turn hairy. He would be a useful messenger as well.” At Makarov’s reply the tension was gone but not forgotten. Gajeel grunted in response and turned to leave; somewhat disappointed that his brawl would have to wait. As he prepared to leave Makarov spoke once more. “Gajeel… Take care; things are going to get harder.” The old man was staring upwards now deep in thought when he heard the door close. “Damn brat…” He muttered to himself.

Gajeel took a moment outside the office door – he looked down at his fellow guild member’s and felt a slight pang of guilt (yes the big bad iron dragon felt guilt). The feeling did not last long, now was the time to do some right, not sit in self-pity. Deciding not to waste time he stormed past the bar grabbing Lilly by the scruff of his neck before further storming out the main door. Along the way Gajeel spied an opportunity for a bit of tension release, slamming Natsu’s face into the plate of flaming chicken he was gorging on (He probably deserved it, Gajeel justified). Laughing as Natsu screamed threats to his backside; Gajeel spread his wings and headed home.

The Exceed; clearly unhappy at being treated like a ragdoll, struggled out of Gajeel’s vice like grip to fly alongside him. “Mind telling me what the rush was? I was rather enjoying my kiwi juice.” Panther Lilly huffed; annoyed their break was cut short.

“New mission, we’re going on a month long patrol” Gajeel replied rather bluntly his facial expression giving nothing away to the flying cat.

“Any more detail?” Lilly ventured as Gajeel landed on the rocky outcrop of their home, Lilly followed closely behind as they entered the cave  watching him with every predatory instinct he had as Gajeel stuffed extra clothes into a duffel bag dumping it by the entrance to their humble abode (or as Lilly likes to call it their 'scrapyard’)

“None you need to know. Be back later.” Gajeel left without a second thought leaving Lilly to himself. Panther Lilly stared after him for a while before walking to his “bedroom”.

Their home was a large cave in a cliff side which over looked a valley. The cave itself was loosely divided into typical rooms, while the door was a gaping hole; Gajeel conjured a metal sheet to cover it during the cold night. Currently it was currently left open due to the summer winds keeping the place plenty warm and no demon was stupid enough to come wondering into “dragon’s lair” as Gajeel liked to put it. Said 'lair’ was basically an open plan flat, they had a functioning kitchen, bathroom and lighting courtesy of magic of course. Gajeel’s bed lay at the back of the cave and was an unruly mess surrounded by several piles of scrap metal which he claimed were 'sorted’; although by what Lilly would never know. Fortunately it was relatively contained around his space – many an argument between dragon and Exceed led to an understanding of sorts in regards to his excessive hoarding.

Lilly’s smaller bed; which lay to the left side of the cave, however was pristine; his few belongings were kept on either the side shelf or the set of draws nearby. All kept in military perfect condition of course. When it was clear Gajeel would be longer than an hour, Lilly decided to make sure they were prepared for their patrol. Grabbing a few pairs of spare shorts, he proceeded to re-sort the bag folding everything and ensuring they would have everything they would need; Gajeel never was one for proper planning.

The little Exceed wasn’t stupid; he knew Gajeel was working on something for the master. He didn’t know what or why but that was to be expected. Gajeel wasn’t going to involve him if he didn’t need to be involved. The Exceed let out a sigh as he zipped up the bag. “I’ve got a bad feeling.” he muttered to the open room.

Gajeel sat on the cliff edge above their cave, overlooking the valley. He tried to be patient, but with nothing but the wind to keep his company it didn’t take long before he felt antsy. He was thankful for the quite evening to a degree, the warm air helped calm him and made it easier to focus on the task at hand - he had a part to play after all. A slightly flicker to his right told him it was show time, turning towards a holographic image as it began to form Gajeel maintained a stoic front. After a few seconds a clear thought projection of a tall slim man in a rather jester like get up appeared; thin black bat-like wings sprouted from his back.

“Ah, Gajeel wonderful to see you!” Jose grinned as his dark eyes gleamed demonically; his red pupils studying the man in front of him. Gajeel felt the hairs on his neck stand on end, instinct shouting that something was wrong; clearly something had put this guy in a good mood.

Gajeel grunted in response, waiting for whatever instructions the malicious man had for him.

“Chatty as always…” Jose’s face fell slightly at Gajeel’s lack of enthusiasm, still he wasn’t deterred. “Well, I won’t waste your time. I’m sure Makarov as spotted our movements.” His lips curled back to form a cruel grin. “Tell me… what are his next steps?” He practically purred like a rattlesnake before it struck you down.

Gajeel weighed up the form in front of him for a moment, Jose must have discovered something; he was grinning like Mira when she had blackmail and a reason to use it against you. “The Fairies are all in a panic. They’re spreading themselves thin trying to find what you’re looking for.” Few white lies were sure to stroke the demons ego after all the feeling of being powerful was all they craved. “I’m going on patrol where the sightings have been, been told to find out what’s going on” Gajeel continued – he grinned evilly as he spoke. Oh, he knew how well he played the part of the villain.

“Really? All on your own? He must really trust you!” The man grinned chuckling Gajeel practically heard the glee in the madman’s voice. “I shall not waste this opportunity; you will cover our tracks keep Makarov from suspecting anything, soon we shall be more powerful than ever!”

Gajeel maintained his stoic appearance; it was time to get some answers. "Found the damn door? The hell you even looking for now, then?” Gajeel said, he tried to look uninterested while keeping his ears sharp.

“Why, the key to it of course!” Jose proudly announced.

Full fic here - I own nothing except a vague plot, feel free to review/ask/be inspired and share with me anything you find :)

Breakfast (GrahamScott) [Edited]

The boy’s dorm is always very silent in early hours of the morning. A calming, orange filter bringing this usually mischief-ridden hall, to a tranquil hault, as well as illuminating the slow-moving dust in the air. It’s during these hours that Nathan is able to think abroad and clear his head of yesterday’s incidents, whatever they shall be. They’re almost always bleak memories that he actually remembers, like the consistent yelling, bleeding, and crying. None of the good moments; if he even had any that day.

The blond normally starts out with telling himself, “Today is a new day.” That the sun is shining, the birds are chirping and any that normal person should appreciate that kind of thing; although, he thinks people say that kind of stuff just to be all artsy and “down-to-earth”. But on this particular morning, Nathan begins with forgetting the previous night’s awful dream. Disregarding every last detail embedded into his already damaged mindset to figure out a way to get himself out of bed. As torturous images of that nightmare plague his eyelids, he hears a small knock at his door. Nathan figures someone had heard him talking aloud, so he decided not to answer.

“If you’re going to ignore me, I’ll take this coffee elsewhere.”

That voice is recognizable but has no face yet, leaving Nathan to ponder if he should open the door or not. He decides its best if he lets the other go on his way to a different dorm, keeping silent in hopes of reciprocation. Sadly, that does not come. The male outside his door becomes impatient, or at least that’s what it sounds like considering how loud and exaggerated that sigh was Nathan just heard.

“Okay, I lied. Your name is on the cup, I can’t exactly give it to anyone else. You liked that peppermint one, right?”

Now, he’s confused. Who in their right mind would remember such a small detail like that? Nathan pushes himself out of bed and past piles of discarded papers, bed springs making notice of his movement. His excuse for those failed attempts at art? An artist can’t draw without motive, for which he has none. Whoever is behind this door will just have to deal with his messiness if they are to enter. On that note, Nathan unlocks and cracks open the door enough for him to look out of it, faced with someone he wouldn’t have expected to ever grace the front side of his door with their presence.

“Warren? Really? It’s 6:40, what are you even doing up?”

The energy in Nathan isn’t enough to power any string of rude comments, leaving him in this passive state of mind at the moment. Once he takes his pills, those rage induced outbursts should commense. So casually, he opens his door the rest of the way, seeing no threat in the brunet. But despite that fact, Nathan’s body stands still in the doorway, eyes glancing at Warren, to the coffee cup with his name on it, and back again. The aroma of peppermint calms his nerves, causing Nathan to give the other a very soft and tired expression.

“I just-..I-I felt terrible about spilling that coffee on you during Bio. My hands weren’t connecting with my brain properly and your project got ruined. This is sort of a peace offering? It’s shitty, sure. And I didn’t exactly know how much sugar you wanted in it; or if you even wanted any at all? So I took my best shot at recreating the smell.”

Warren held out the steaming cup in his hand, dainty fingers avoiding the hot surface underneath the cup protector. His demeanor portrayed a similar relaxed feeling that made Nathan just as serene as the coffee smell allowed him to be, if not more. He guesses that its because Warren is an actual human and not a liquid. And, to the brunet’s surprise, Nathan pivoted around and walked to his couch without locking, or even closing the door. A silent welcome into his dorm, which Warren took happily.

“You okay with a little secondhand smoke?” Nathan asked, sitting himself down and sliding out a small, metal box from under the low coffee table. The other gave him a quick nod after closing the door and taking the seat right beside him, making Nathan jolt a bit when he looked back. He believed the brunet to be sitting too close, scooting away ever so slightly and resuming his routine, self-diagnosed, wake-up medicine.

Warren was very reluctant to keep holding onto the burning hot coffee, as the temperature of the cup started affecting its holder. He placed it onto the table in front of him along with his own, even though his was already warm enough to drink. He felt like his hands needed to be free if his attempt at befriending the well-known bully was to work. Plus he’s the type of person to talk with his hands, which got him into this situation in the first place.

Looking around to find anything worthy of discussion, his eyes snap over to Nathan’s hands once that lighter flicks on, igniting the tip of his blunt.

“So, how’s your morning going?”

The blond looked over at him like he was crazy, eyebrows furrowed and expression hard, as if to try and read between the lines.

“What?” Warren persisted.

Nathan looked surprised momentarily, shoulders relaxing.

“It’s been okay, just very slow.” He said, taking his first drag of the day and letting the smoke pour out of his mouth as he spoke again, “How has your’s been so far?”

Warren felt slightly uncomfortable when those sleepy, irritated eyes fixated themselves onto his own, shifting to lean back against the couch cushion, “Its been uneventful and eventful at the same time, if you get that at all?” He paused briefly to gather his thoughts so what he just said can make a bit more sense, “Okay, so I took a shower, dressed myself, saw my friend, got the coffee. When I list it like that, of course it seems like I did a lot, but overall, those are pretty mundane tasks that won’t have much of an impact on my day besides feeling more-” His speech was cut off by smoke being blown into his face and him coughing, waving a hand in front of himself, “Dude.”

Nathan looked slightly amused, leaning forward towards the coffee table and grabbing his cup. He appreciates how warm it is now, above room temperature but below boiling, “You talk a lot, thanks.”

Warren is flabbergasted at the fact that Nathan-fucking-Prescott just said “thanks” to him, and he’s not entirely sure why he did. Clearly something is wrong here, but instead of delving into that, as it might upset him, Warren responded like any other person would.

“You’re welcome?” He didn’t mean that to come out as a question, feeling a little ashamed for letting that slip out. Although, Nathan reacted in a way Warren wouldn’t have never expected.

“I…” He sighed, “Thats not what I fucking meant to say. Or-its not what you think. Tch, just whatever. I have no patience to analyze my own dialogue right now. Not like I ever did, but that’s besides the point. I value your…strangely accurate attempt at making peace with me.” Nathan took a sip of the coffee given to him and forced away a small smile. It was good, better than making his own.

“Does your good kush taste better when its mixed with caffine?” Warren tries hard to make awkward situations better with stupid jokes like these. Key word, tries. From the way Nathan is looking at him, he seems indifferent. That is until his hand stretched out, offering up his medicine for Warren to try.

“You tell me.”

Skeptical and yet, intrigued, Warren plucked the small object from the blond’s hand and held it in the way he witnessed Nathan doing, between his forefinger and his thumb. New to this, and practically improvising, he brought it to his lips and mimicked Nathan yet again, but instead of blowing, he was coughing.

“My hypothesis was correct. Bad. Very bad.”

Science jokes.

What a dork.

Nathan swiped back the blunt and took another hit, doing some silly trick to entertain the other into maybe trying again.

They spent a good 10 minutes trying to entertain each other with smoke clouds, the rest of the dorm starting to wake up around this time of day and turn this peaceful environment into a reckless playpen. It was also the time where Nathan’s corrupted mentality decided to switch into the offensive.

“Oh, in the hallway this morning, your room was pretty loud. Did you have any bad dreams last night? You seemed to be yelling at something.”

That definitely struck a cord with the blond, fingers clenching tighter around the cup, “I don’t know that answer, Gayram. Anything else I can answer for you? Like, how much fucking time I’ve wasted tolerating your ass this morning? Cause I know that one; Too much. Get out.” Nathan stops there, taking a breather and expecting the brunet to up and leave, which he did, coffee and all.

Before his outburst, Nathan was admittedly enjoying himself. He figured that he’ll do the same for Warren to apologize in the next day or two. The last thing he needs is another enemy, gaining a friend is something he would appreciate, even if he doesn’t show it.


“You don’t understand! It’s not like that!”
Pause. Assess the situation as the world
Holds its breath, as seconds crawl to a stop, slowing down until the dust hangs
Stagnant in the air, like the scowl that
Spread across her face.

The scene is set with one predator
Disguised as a matron,
A fragile woman too old to cause a fuss.
She salivates over the explanation that has
Yet to cross my lips,
I’m cornered. Trapped in the gaps
Between the words of the secret letters
I wrote to him that even he has not seen.
I’m now uncovered.

She doesn’t know the whole story,
Doesn’t know the sentiments behind
My signature on each piece of
Elegant stationary.
She knows only what she wants to be true.
Lusting only after the satisfaction of being
Right, to have grounds for her hatred.

She doesn’t know him, doesn’t know that
The time I’ve spent with him is the
Happiest I’ve ever been, or that since
I met him I’ve started to sing again.
In this second I embrace the light,
A split second decision to no longer let
Fear rule who I love.

And because of him I can shine bright,
Illuminate the sky and melt away all the
Hatred that grows like mildew in her heart.

In this moments hesitation, my world has changed.
“It’s true. I love him.”

  • what she says: i'm fine
  • what she means: frank castle hears the onslaught of bullets meant for karen page before they rip through her apartment and he shields her with his entire body. he does this on instinct, he does this without hesitation. he wraps his arms around her head, he braces his legs on either side of her - he does nothing to protect himself and she grabs onto him for dear life. and when the firing ceases, the frenzy of dust slowing to a swirling cloud in the air, the final bits of plaster crumbling from the wall, the glass of picture frames shattered and littering the floor, the screech of a baby from a nearby apartment reminding us of the existence of the rest of the world, karen begins to move - she releases her grip on his arm, her hands going immediately to her head, and frank castle, his fingers in her hair, moves his hand immediately on top of hers. "we gotta get outta here" he says and with his hands gripping her shoulders, guides her up from the floor. his hand moves to her shoulder blades and eventually down her back until she is running out the door!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FRANK CASTLE NEVER LETS GO OF KAREN PAGE UNTIL THE VERY LAST SECOND! FRANK CASTLE DOESN'T EVEN CONSIDER PROTECTING HIMSELF UNTIL SHE IS OUT THE DOOR!!!!!!!!!!!

i have made so many playlists for dancing with you. rushed, yet soothing, before interviews; sidestepping in our too-small kitchen, moments before darting out the door. at 10 pm, movements slurred with exhaustion, leaning against each other. i styled your hair, and you did mine. saturday morning, gentle and slow. snow dusting the windowsill, our fingers sticky-sweet with waffles.

eriene  asked:

(Dust, Gaze, Edge) -- for the drabble prompt!

Long she stood at the precipice of one of Highmountain’s many peaks. The heights stirred within her a healthy fear, and she knew all it would take was one misstep and she would be gone.

But she did not come here to harm herself- not physically. She hadn’t come with the intent to harm herself in any form or fashion, yet it happened all the same. The slow breeze kicked up dust by her feet, swirling it around in a brief dance before casting it away.

Every day, her heart broke a little more. Her best friend, a woman once so bright and vibrant and honorable.. a woman just and fair and kind now so.. bitter. Hateful. Vengeful. And while Altherei knew her remaining friends would tell her it wasn’t her fault.. it really was, wasn’t it?

She pushed them all on. She freed her from a fate she would not wish on anyone, wasting away in a dreamworld. Even if, in that dreamworld, Lisse had all she ever wanted.. all the things she felt she could never have in reality- a better world. One where Altherei’s heart belonged to her and her alone.

It was an impossible situation, and somehow the astromancer had always known. She thought back to the fortune teller’s tarot spread- Justice was working against her. Whatever situation she was in, she would not win it. She couldn’t have just left her to waste away, or die.. or chance that somehow, her dreamworld would overwrite reality. But Altherei felt that, in the end, she was destined to lose her.

Perhaps that was what hurt the most. Every foreseeable course of action she could’ve taken- or every inaction, would’ve lead to her loss. But this was a fate far worse than losing her to true death. No, now she had to always be watching her back, Yreil’s back- maybe even the backs of others, if the death knight ended up caring little for what sort of love she took from the astronomer. Now she had a best friend turned enemy.. one who only wanted to cause her the same pain Altherei had caused her. A pain Altherei truly felt bad for causing, yet couldn’t take away. She couldn’t explain it away. She had been selfish, just as her friend had.. but she couldn’t bring herself to say to her all the things she was now thinking.

Did you not care that you caused me pain then?

Do you not care that your own selfishness nearly cost us our lives many times over?

Was it really you, then, who tried to kill me when I dared to wake you?

The last thought that lingered was the saddest, most poisonous of all.

Did you ever really care about me- our friendship- at all..? Or was I just a romance to chase…? And now that I’ve taken away your only ‘hope’ at a love with me.. a hope that never existed to begin with.. does our friendship truly mean so little to you that your only purpose now is to cause me as much suffering as you can?

It crept in to the last shreds of hope she was so desperate to maintain. It threatened to turn what love she had left for her friend to a bitter resentment. She didn’t want to hate her. She wanted to believe that somewhere, Falendre still existed. The old Yrlisse. Both of them, either of them. The woman who truly did seem to care for Alth, for right and wrong. She had to believe it: that someday, that woman would reawaken within the darkness Yrlisse had encompassed herself in, and perhaps then.. perhaps then, they could set things right. They could repair what they had both damaged.

But for now, she had to protect everyone else. She had to protect herself. She would not let any more harm come to her loved ones… even if it meant putting herself in the path of Yrlisse’s blades. Even if, Titans forbid, it meant ending her life in defense of others.

Her teal orbs, glassy now with unspent tears, turned once more to gaze across the open expanse of Highmountain, and into the distance the world tree in Val’Sharah. Rubbing the back of her gloved hand across her eyes, Altherei drew in a deep breath, released it with the wind, and turned to walk away from the edge.

Thanks @eriene!

To Earth

Dirt, can we begin
with forgiveness?

It’s taken so long to write.

But soil, we are senseless
half-sisters. Estranged
because we’re so alike.

Our hearts marked
by hoofprints.

Our skin crumbling
under claws.

Bones eroding
within us, dust: a slow,
long southern drawl.

In this, ground, grant me
your contrary trait—

your strength
without complaint.

But first let me
plant, earth. Let me
bend low and trace my name.
—  Stacy Gnall, “To Earth,” from “Elemental Missives,” Heart First into the Forest (Alice James Books, 2011)

It’s Different This Time

This story was submitted to Sixpenceee by Psybunnys (Jennifer) as part of Storytelling With Sixpenceee. This story is not necessarily scary. 

I still remember the first day we heard about the outbreak. It was a bright Sunday morning, light rays coming through the living room window, catching slow moving dust flecks. It was just a cozy, quiet Sunday.

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A few weeks ago, I laid on top of a car and I’m pretty sure I was high out of my mind. I must have been because in that moment, I was free. I was not bound by a single drop of sorrow. I was not sad because I had no one, quite the opposite actually… I was happy, I was smiling. I finally figured it out as I looked into the night overhead the street corners blooming with dark surprises. I was not attached to my body as I watched the stars glaze over my eyes and in that moment I knew. I knew the answer to my own shine. I knew how to get there. It’s not a matter of how or what or why. It was when. It was not in that moment, that is just the beginning. This is just a short prose piece. I’m just another poet. I’m just some human living his days away because of something I shouldn’t have said to someone I shouldn’t have loved, but isn’t that the beauty? To figure all of this shit out…? In that slow fall of dust stripping from the moon, I found myself allowed to belong to the universe and yeah sure, I was probably high, but at least…

At least, I found a reason to go on.

—  Stargazer
Laevinic Defeat [Cinder/Pyrrha]

As one of Vale’s fastest rising professional tournament fighters, Pyrrha attracts sponsors from all across Mistral. Cinder’s methods of persuading new clients just happen to be more effective than most.

Pyrrha’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “What could you possibly hope to gain from this?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Having such a remarkable young woman…” Cinder paused, fixing her with an appraising look that only darkened Pyrrha’s blush, “in my employ is a delight in itself.”

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my video group, slow dust, has another video showing this next saturday at vermillion’s lovetone event. scary visuals are in store! come see what we’ve been working on if you live in the seattle area. it goes from 9pm-2am, hope to see you there.