so much weaving

Because I literally can’t think of anything better or worse than marrying your best friend. Here’s a post-6x17 drabble for my addled heart and mind. I’ve come up with so many analogies for my frazzled organs today I can’t even keep track, but here’s a new one: My heart has been tossed around in one of those bingo wheels for the last 24 hrs. and it’s starting to bruise. Please pick a number. This is dedicated to a lot of people, but honestly, my Julian (@shoedonym), because her words are the best words; and she let me freak out at her for way too long last night. 

+ The worst thing about being in love with your best friend is that you will always feel compelled to tell them everything. Even when it’s not really for them to know; even when you’re actually kind of annoyed with them, and you want to tell them about how annoying they are being (and, obviously, you would tell your best friend about that irritating asshole you decided to fall in love with). Of course, the worst thing about being in love with your best friend is also, well, it’s the best, isn’t it? Because they will, without fail, want to hear about it.

Keep reading

9

Cate Blanchett Filmography: 1994+ [1]

Cate is incredibly intuitive, highly intelligent, physically free and playful, nothing that like all the actors in the Sidney troupe, Blanchett is classically trained. She has good theatrical sense, and she keeps her feet on the ground. And, of course, she’s just gorgeous. - Hugo Weaving

frywen-babbles  asked:

Kisses with meaning: Chest and Mitsunari

  • Mitsunari + Chest (possession)

He has ice in his veins.

So much of it bubbling beneath the surface it takes a moment for the bitterness to start flowing. It begins in his toes, undulating in waves across every crevice before splintering onto the road mapping his legs, cutting up and up until the cold freezes into a glacier, plonking down in his gut.

He needs it to happen a lot faster if he’s going to withstand the impact of your palm striking his cheek.

And there’s no doubt it’ll hurt. You’re frozen in that vast space between a second and a heartbeat, and Mitsunari doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so alive. Blazing. Torn between hell’s fury and the devil’s wrath. Arm jerked high and hand poised, ready to strike.

He’s prepared for it, despite the curdling in his pulse and the ice in his gut.

Don’t ever say that to me again.” And you tear away from him so fast, like a whip returning to its master, he feels the echo of a slap ringing out anyway. You can’t look at him, and the ice snaps and huffs as you stagger to his bookshelf, pitched forward, fingers etched too tight into the wood for purchase.

It’s all he hears, your breaths furious, rankling in his ears.

“Manju-girl—”

“Shut up. Don’t say a word.”

His breath shakes out of him too, once, twice, before you turn to look at him, red and puffy lining poison-black eyes. It’s the only part still savage when your entire face withers. He has but a beat to summon the ice again before you’ve stalked back, hands fisting into his sleeve.

“Listen to me, Lord Mitsunari. You can’t— you can’t say something like that without realising what it does to the people around you. It’s too cruel. We love you… Lord Hideyoshi loves you. I— I love you.” You gasp against the choke, swallowing, and every word has to be dragged out. “If I don’t see you barreling down the hallway with a book in your hand, my day doesn’t feel right.

“You are important and valuable and a part of this family. We would crumble without you. You don’t know how significant you are to all of us.” Your breath hitches, voice too shaky to go on. He wants to howl because he’s hurt you. “I need you to know that if you suddenly disappeared from this earth it would— it would—” Tears gather again though they don’t fall because girls like you don’t cry; strong girls, fierce girls, “—it would break my heart.”

In a broken rush of air you drop the world into his lap.

He doesn’t know what to do because he has ice in his veins.

So much of it bubbling beneath the surface it takes a moment for his heart to cry out a rhythm to the corners of his flesh. It starts in his feet, shooting out and pulsating so furiously it doesn’t see how his toes curl, cutting off the path and sending the ice hurtling head long into its first barrier and smashing little fractures all over. It back tracks in revulsion because the sensation is so foreign, crashing through the chambers of his veins up into his legs. The ascent is a rocky one, and along the way shards crack and hurl about, whittling the cold down before it reaches his gut.

Mitsunari can’t breathe.

His gut swallows the torrent and a glacier starts to form, a feeling so familiar to his bones it takes a moment longer before the cry reaches it and everything starts to spit and hiss and decompress, and his gut, wound so tight already, spits the ice back out because it no longer wants to be the sanctuary of so much fear. The ice weaves back into his veins and spindles out and out and, bypassing the heart altogether, funnels into his arms and down through his fingers, where it thinks it can make a mockery of how coiled his fists shake.

But Mitsunari can’t breathe.

And the ice shrieks against a blaze so thunderous it jerks back through the sensory paths and twists around his neck. Freezing and freezing.

He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe.

His mind steps in, his breath, short and stiff, steps in, his gut steps in, his toes and feet and arms and fingers step in, you step in, straight into his chest and they all clip and chip away at the stranglehold around his neck. The ice screams and chokes, spittles furiously, and it won’t let go because he is ice, he is nothing without the ice, he needs this ice.

It’s too much. He can’t breathe. It’s all too much.

Suddenly everything bursts. 

He can breathe.

Because he feels it, so soft and sweet, against his chest and it makes him want to crumple to the ground and cry because your lips flutter through the fabric to his heart, hushing and cooing the storm.

It starts in his toes then.

Seeping out in lazy flicks, burning and lighting the path and sizzling the blood in his veins. It caresses every nook and cranny, each dip in his muscles, until the aching pool of warmth settles into his gut, and he feels the holding and whispering tendrils of heat fanning out and out. It’s fire. Hot and bright, gentle and misunderstood. And it’s you as well, breathing a fever through his heart, melting the winter and roasting the shards, making it blaze forever and ever until his whole body thaws into you.

Your hands cradle him, and he sees red.

Everywhere. 

He has fire in his veins. 

It’s alive. He’s alive. It burns him.


‘Kisses with Meaning’ [Masterpost]

  • @frywen-babbles @dreamsinparadise Forgive me for not tagging you when I first posted, friends! Once I realised real life had called. Can I make up for it with some Mitsunari? 
Chiaroscuro

Commissioned by @unashamed-shipper! Here’s a soulmate!AU for you Audrey! With permission, I think I might actually want to continue this! As a longer one-shot or a mini-series! Free of charge, of course! (it was hard to stay within the word count and this seemed like a good cut off lol)


Natsu thinks that buying flowers would be a whole lot simpler if he could actually see what he’s buying. Sure, the flower looks nice, but he has no idea what color it is. Not that knowing would matter much. He can’t see color, after all—no one can, not until they meet their quote unquote soulmate. Natsu thinks that’s just a load of crap that his parents made up to make him feel better about being colorblind. He wishes they would just tell him the truth about it, instead of lying to make him feel better. Sure, having someone be his other half—his better half—sounds wonderful and thrilling, but it’s all just a big lie. He can handle seeing in shades of gray for the rest of his life. What he can’t handle is holding out hope for someone that doesn’t exist.

Huffing to himself, Natsu releases the flower he’s been looking at—some sort of rose, he thinks—and runs a frustrated hand through his hair. He doesn’t know why he makes this so hard for himself—why he spends so much time weaving the isles of Nova, the little flower shop only a few blocks down from his apartment. He always ends up buying the same flowers for his mother anyway. Hours and hours of walking through this shop and he always buys the same damn thing.

If he could see in color, this shop would probably be rather cozy. There’s greenery everywhere: vines hanging from hooks on the walls, row and rows of bright flowers, a galaxy painted on the ceiling in great swirls and littered with stars. If only he could appreciate all of it. Instead, this shop is dark. The shades of gray are too much and the smells hurt his nose.

Today is different though. He walked into the shop expecting to see Sorano or Yukino sitting up at the front—maybe even Loke, on a good day—but the first thing he saw upon entering the shop was someone new. A small, pretty thing with a smile that lit up the room when she saw him. For a moment, he lost his breath, unable to even think as her eyes met his and her lips curved up at the edges beautifully. Something bright had flickered across his vision for just a second and he stumbled, careening into a shelf of flower pots and nearly knocking them to the ground.

By the time he looked up again she was back to watering a small lemon tree sitting on the front counter.

Heading over to a row of large flowers, Natsu looks for the familiar shade of gray that he always gets. It’s a decently light color, probably something yellow or pink. His mother never seems to complain about them, so he thinks he’s been doing a pretty good job. After four years, he’d like to think his mother would tell him if she didn’t like the flowers.

Though, maybe that’s her trying to spare his feeling—just like his colorblindness.

Natsu sighs and grabs the pretty flowers, cradling them gently in his palm. Casting a quick glance towards the girl at the register, his grip tightens on the stems unconsciously, his palms suddenly feeling clammy with sweat. As if she can feel his gaze, the girl’s head snaps up, her eyes immediately locking with his, her lips twitching.

There’s another flash in his vision, this time accompanied by a shock of pain in the base of his skull. Natsu rips his gaze away from hers, eyes squeezing shut tightly as he grits his teeth, hissing through them. The girl gasps in time with him, but he can’t bring himself to look at her and find out why. He’s not sure what’s happening to him. Nothing like this has ever happened before—not even once in his twenty-two years of life.

It shouldn’t physically hurt to look at someone.

The pain is gone just as suddenly as it was there, almost as if it never happened.

Natsu releases a shaky breath, the sound oddly loud in the silent shop. Swallowing thickly, Natsu steels his nerves and shakes away his confusion. He can worry about it later. A moment later, he finds himself standing in front of the register, a dirt speckled counter the only thing separating him from her.

She doesn’t look at him as steps up to the counter, her gaze focused on the flowers in his hand, and something tugs at his gut uncomfortably, his throat tightening with some emotion he doesn’t understand.

“Peonies,” she says suddenly, glancing up at him. Her eyes lock with Natsu’s shocked ones and suddenly his heart rate skyrockets, the muscle trying to tear straight from his chest. He holds her gaze, the back of his head beginning to throb with pain unexpectedly. This time he doesn’t look away. The girl winces, but holds his gaze with hers, her eyes suddenly brighter than they were before.

The pain travels to his temple, but he ignores it. “What?” he murmurs back after several long seconds, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth.

Her lips quirk up into a smile that drags the breath from his lungs. “Peonies,” she repeats, nodding to the flowers in his hand. He doesn’t look away and neither does she. “They mean good fortune and a happy marriage,” she explains to him. He can barely hear her over the blood rushing through his ears, his heart beginning to beat out of control.

The pain behind his eyes is burning him and he can feel tears beginning to gather in the corner of his eyes. He bites his tongue harshly, attempting to ignore the intense feeling. Her eyes are glossy as well, but doesn’t have the faintest idea why.

“It’s my parent’s anniversary,” he blurts, sucking in a ragged breath as the pain doubles it’s efforts, nearly driving him over the edge.

She exhales a shaky little breath as she reaches out for the flowers to wrap them. “Well, I’m sure they’ll love this.” Her fingers brush against his, barely ghosting over his skin and there’s a sharp sting behind his eyes—almost like a shock. He grits his teeth to keep from crying out, his eyes slamming shut as the sting tears through his almost violently. She gasps, a strangled sound leaving her throat, and Natsu forces his eyes to open—to make sure she’s okay.

The first thing he sees are pale pink peonies.

anonymous asked:

What I love about all of these suggestions for the anon's s4 fic is that they're all better plots than what actually happened. But what I love most is how obvious it is that you can remove Malia from the plot/story and the story they were (very badly) telling would've barely changed.

Yup, even when she exists it’s so easy to pretend she doesn’t.  They spent so much time trying to weave her into the plotline and failed. 

3

Title: A Drunken Mistake

Pairings: Kyle Spencer x (F) reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of Kyle x Zoe, ANGST!!!

Gifs: [x] [x] [x]

Maybe “I gave you my everything… and you don’t even care” w/ Pre-death Kyle Spencer where he & the reader have been dating for awhile & he brings her to another frat party on his birthday but he gets a little too drunk this time & the reader sees him making out with someone else & gets upset w/ him bc like when they first started dating, she was really shy but he brought her out of her shell & taught her that she could trust him & then he ruined it just then and yeah, lots of angst please? Thx

This imagine was inspired by this music video.

prompt list

“I gave you my everything… and you don’t even care.” Y/N sobbed, tears screaming down her flushed cheeks.

____

Y/N had been dragged to a frat party by Kyle Spencer - her boyfriend since sophomore year of high school - and she wanted to be anywhere but there. Kyle had disappeared with a bunch of his fraternity friends to do beer pong and Y/N was left alone - this wasn’t her idea of fun and she wanted to leave, yet she’d only been there a matter of minutes. However since it had been a hot minute since Kyle had been to a party and not with Y/N, she didn’t mind so much.

She weaved through the crowds, the over-powering stench of booze, drugs and sweat invading her senses. She finally got to the kitchen where it was almost empty apart from the odd couple making out and the small huddle of people doing shots. Y/N opened the back door and stumbled out, closing it behind her. She inhaled the fresh air, walking towards the brightly lit pool. She took a seat on the ledge, cross-legged and dragged her fingers through the water, eyes up on the sky, watching as the stars twinkled.

Y/N felt a presence next to her and looked to her left, smiling friendly at the boy beside her.

“I’m sorry, just needed some fresh air.” He grinned adorably, but his smile was nothing compared to Kyle’s.

Y/N nodded, before looking back up at the sky.

“What are you doing out here?” He queried, scooting uncomfortably closer to Y/N.

She could smell the alcohol off his breath, it was almost radiating off of him.

“The same as you, needed some fresh air. I guess I’m not used to the whole… party scene.” Y/N explained, looking at the boy.

His eyes were a dark grey colour and his dark brown hair was pushed up in a quiff. His nose was slightly crooked and his lips were thin and bitten.

“Did your friends drag you here or something?” He asked, stuffing his hand into his pocket and pulling out a cigarette. He offered it to Y/N, but she shook her head.

“No, my boyfriend did, but he’s disappeared somewhere.”

The boy hummed a response, placing the cigarette between his lips before digging in his pocket once more for a lighter. He lit the cigarette and inhaled, taking the cigarette from his lips and holding it between his index and middle finger.

“Well I’m Jackson, and you are?” Jackson introduced, exhaling the white smoke.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Jackson.”

“Mhm, you too.” Jackson took another drag of the cigarette.

Y/N leaned back on her elbows, uncrossing her legs and stretching them. Jackson glanced over his shoulder as a wave of students came outside. He huffed, taking another long drag.

“Can’t get away from this party, can I?” Jackson chuckled, returning his attention to Y/N. “I’m not really the party type either, my friend said it’d be good to interact with people instead of staying in my dorm.”

Y/N was about to reply when she heard a familiar voice amongst the crowd who had just came out into the garden. She frowned, glancing at every person in the crowd until her eyes landed on Kyle, who was covering his eyes and talking to some girl with straight hair and a beautiful figure. Y/N wasn’t the jealous type, not in away way, but she couldn’t get rid of the feeling that the girl was someone who could ruin their relationship.

Y/N frowned, looking down at her feet.

“Is that your boyfriend?” Jackson inquired, “sorry, I saw the way you were looking at him, so I assumed.”

“Yeah, he’s my boyfriend. I somewhat regret coming, you know, because he hasn’t said two words to me since we got here and seems to be having fun without me.”

Jackson nodded, handing her the cigarette. She frowned and shook her head.

“It’ll help relax you, I promise.” Jackson smiled, a friendly smile.

Y/N cautiously brought the cigarette up to her lips and took a small drag, pulling the cigarette away from her lips she exhaled, the white smoke leaving her. It wasn’t as bad as she had anticipated. She handed it back to Jackson and closed her eyes, feeling slightly at ease.

“Better?” Jackson laughed, soaking in her relaxed appearance.

Y/N hummed, laying down completely. Jackson laid down next to her, staring up at the sky. The noise of the crowd around them seemed to fade out, just a small buzz. Y/N allowed her eyes to flutter shut completely.

She was disturbed from her peaceful state when someone jumped into the pool, water flying out and hitting her, soaking her legs. She stumbled up, as did Jackson, but his eyes weren’t on the pool anymore, but in the crowd. His eyes wide, lip clamped under his teeth.

Y/N brushed most of the water off her legs before following his eyes, wishing she hadn’t almost immediately after. There was Kyle and the girl, full on making out, his hand on her ass and her hands tangled in his blonde hair.

“Oh.” Y/N rasped, feeling her heart sink into her chest before shattering into millions of pieces. She couldn’t fight the tears forming in her eyes and Jackson was quick to notice, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest. She let out a small sob.

“What happened?” An unfamiliar voice said behind Y/N.

“Kyle happened.” Jackson growled, stroking his hand up and down Y/N’s back to attempt and soothe her sobs.

“Kyle? As in Kyle Spencer?”

Just hearing his name made her cry even more. People were starting to huddle around the crying girl, eager to find out what had happened.

Kyle detached from Zoe, smiling lazily at her. His daze was cut short when he noticed the crowd had moved else where, the pair were too caught up in the kiss to notice. Kyle glanced around, finding the crowd instantly.

“We should probably join the crowd.” Kyle drawled, but Zoe shook her head, insisting she had to look for someone.

Kyle was about to offer to help when he saw Y/N being dragged out of the crowd by one of Kyle’s fellow fraternity member. Y/N was clinging to him for dear life and her eyes were red and blood shot. The buzz of the alcohol inside Kyle died down as soon as he saw her. He sobered up instantly. He inwardly cursed at himself for being so stupid before darting after her.

He finally caught up with her when she was outside the property, head pressed against her car window.

“I think I’m going to be sick, Jackson…” She murmured, eyes squeezed shut. Another wave of sobs crashed over her and her back shook.

Kyle’s heart squeezed as he staggered towards her.

“Y/N, baby, I’m sorry…” Kyle rasped, getting in arms reach of her until Jackson shoved him back.

“Jackson, can you give us a moment?” Y/N asked, finally looking up.

Jackson complied reluctantly before going back into the party. Kyle raced towards her, grabbing her in a hug and holding her close, but just being close to him made Y/N want the ground to swallow her whole. She didn’t want him touching her, but at the same time she needed to feel him so she knew that this wasn’t just a terrible dream.

“I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to hurt you. It was a drunken mistake.” Kyle rambled.

Y/N was quick to cut him off, “I gave you my everything… and you don’t even care.” Y/N sobbed, tears screaming down her flushed cheeks. “You made me the person I am today, i trusted you not to hurt me, to love me and be there for me. But then you shoved your tongue down her throat, a drunken mistake…” Y/N laughed, shaking her head at her foolishness. “You wouldn’t have kissed her unless you really wanted to. Have you ever kissed anyone at these parties and never told me? Did you do more with her in the past?”

Kyle shook his head, his own tears cascading down his cheeks. Y/N pulled away, pressing her back against the cold metal of her car.

“Never, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I ruined this, but give me another chance.” Kyle pleaded, prepared to get on his hands on knees to grovel for her forgiveness.

“No, Kyle, I can’t. You’ve hurt me, the way you promised you wouldn’t when we first started dating. Kyle, I think you should stay at the party, but I’m going home. We can talk about this another time.” Y/N whispered, throat sore and eyes red. “All I ever did was love you with all my heart, Kyle.”

“As did I. I love you, I always will, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

Y/N just nodded and got into her car, wiping her eyes before driving away.


That night the bus flipped.

Likes, reblogs, asks and replies are appreciated.

he is falling for a girl who is off limits
(god, she is so, so off limits) —
she is the dainty princess
that should never have to soil her hands
with the matters of a filthy commoner like him.

he is falling for a girl who uses her brain as a weapon
as opposed to him,
who is all too ready to stain his already
crimson hands with more blood —
is it bad that he loves her
even more so for it?

he is falling for a girl who lives in another country
and he met her in his head —
he sounds mental,
but this girl is in love with him too,
which makes him
crazy enough to believe that this
might just
work.

—  FORGET PROPRIETY || k.t. || okteivias

who’s read these books?

they’re AMAZING. seriously. some of the best written fantasy i’ve read. the story just grabs you and pull you in. i love her writing so much. she weaves her story through historical events with real people and actual scientific theories; sometimes you’re convinced something fictional is real and real events don’t seem possible.

if you like fantasy, or if you’re just looking for a new literary adventure, grab these book.

The All Souls Trilogy follows the story of Diana Bishop, a historian and reluctant witch, as she solves the mystery of Ashmole 782, falls in love with a mysterious vampire named Matthew Clairmont, and learns how powerful it can be to accept who you are.

[x]

mylyricalrain  asked:

Do you think that Telltale should make your choices really matter ? Like how they made you choose Jane or Kenny. When the one you choose dies anyway in season 3

This has been Telltale games since forever. In fact, most choice based games are this way. It’s incredibly complex and difficult to tell a good story with player choice in the mix. It either ends up being a mess or not compelling but people FEEL like their choices matter which makes it seem like more than it is. Life Is Strange did a lot of this too, where big decisions happened but in the end it made almost no difference except for a few instances like the very end. 

This is why I love Undertale so much. It weaves that choice based concept into its gameplay without telling you “HEY THIS IS A HUGE CHOICE!”. You can kill very key and major characters in the game early on and the rest of the game plays out as such with some interactions changing to cope with it. It also knows the medium its in VERY well and uses it to its advantage and in some ways, to change the gameplay (the save feature being one example). It does all that without shoving it down your throat either but then again it’s a very different type of game where as the ones above are more visual novel/TV show based. 

All in all, telling a great story in a game is already very hard to do because of how the medium works and then becomes exponentially harder when you try to let the player make very big game changing decisions. It’s just a shame that the tricks are way more obvious now in Telltale games because of how many of their series we’ve gotten. That being said, I still bloody love playing them and seeing the stories they create :D

They’re sitting so close their ribs might as well been welded together for the amount of space they’d let slip between them. Each nursed a cheap, thin plastic cup radiating future second-degree burns from the equally cheap lemongrass-ginger teabags soaking in scalding water. Max held hers in a careless grip; the cup already tipping over and dribbling over her dirty sneakers. Kate held hers with reverential care. The night was freezing and the cement step they sat on diffused that cold up their backs and down their legs.

Kate let Max’s words soak in the silence.

“You… probably don’t believe me, huh?” Max chuckled weakly. “That’s okay. I wouldn’t believe me either.”

“No, Max, I believe you.” Kate took a deep breath in. She could still smell the storm in the air. “It would… explain a lot.”

“Do you…”

Kate could feel Max’s shivers against her side. It wasn’t from the cold.

“Do you blame me? I mean, of course you do. I just-…. Chloe doesn’t blame me. At all. I ask her all the time and she… she just-….”

Max’s words tipped and spilled from her trembling lips. Little droplets of guilt, all that was left of the tears that spun into a storm, cried from a lost girl who saw her best friend die too many times.

Her soulmate.

Did Kate blame her? Of course she did. That Max would go so far, weave so much destruction with her carouse through time. Arcadia Bay was completely destroyed: the beauty along with the evil. Everything gone in one fell swoop. All born of Max Caulfield’s single-minded devotion.

But that Max could love so deeply; go so far as to tear her own heart out so that another might live on; that Max would give so, so much - that was why she loved Max Caulfield.

Lord forgive her, but Kate would be a liar if she said she would never trade Arcadia Bay for Max Caulfield.

In one motion - smoothed by the number of times she thought about or dreamed of doing - Kate reached over and gripped Max’s hand to steady Max’s tea while tucking her face into the crook of Max’s neck. From the way Max jumped, her nose must’ve been cold. Kate breathed gently, warm breath ghosting over the cold girl next to her.

“Whatever I think, I can’t judge you for the choices you were forced to make.”

Max sniffled. Her free hand came up behind Kate, cradling the back of her head.

Pressing herself in further, Kate molded herself against Max. She will hold this mess of a girl as tightly as she can. She could resent Max til the end of her days but truth was, she probably resented herself more for ever thinking Max Caulfield would always choose Kate Marsh above all.

snoke: thanks to your starkiller project, i think you should be promoted to general; so please describe yourself in a paragraph or less.

hux:

snoke: welcome aboard, genera! you’ll get a free flagship as well.