the one with glasses seriously



Just some scenes that I wish would’ve been animated in Book of Atlantic.
It’s the small details that matter most.


From The Desk Of…

Go read this amazing, well written and beautifully executed story that will steal your heart from the get go.

The pictures above are my humble way of saying thank you to the wonderful writers @fictorium @bridgetteirish

thenvunin managing to make paperwork look glamourous @feynites


zero talent

Start a Fire - Part 4

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 5]

Rowan stayed in the night club half a hour more until he gave up and called the night off. The point was lost. He wasn’t able to pay attention in anyone since she had stormed out of the door. He thought that he could still smell her scent in his shirt, but that was ridiculous. They stood close for no longer than five minutes, and  the club was packed with the smell of everyone’s colognes, perfumes and sweat.

I must be more drunk than I’ve thought, he said to himself while going towards the exit.

Once out, he started his twenty minutes-walk to his hotel, and let his mind run freely to try to understand what the hell had just happened.

It must be because of the mission, he thought. He nodded to himself. It made sense. He’d been particularly frustrated that night because he hadn’t located his target after a week in the city, so he was angry and didn’t have such a firm grip in his leash. Yes, that was it. He ignored a tiny and mocking voice in his head that said he wasn’t really on edge until he had stared into those odd eyes and smelled her scent.

All he had to do was to track his target as soon as possible and be done with it. And he’d better do it quickly. Maeve was growing impatient, and her impatient usually came with inquisitions, threats and punishments.

Well, Rowan thought bitterly as he made a turn into a narrower and darker street, a little more information would’ve been useful

Two weeks before, he had only his target’s alias – Pyro – and the suspicion that this person was extremely important in some way, or else Maeve wouldn’t have asked Rowan to bring her alive. And unharmed. In the following week, he had gathered all the information he could: he discovered that Pyro was actually an elite assassin, and not from any elite: Arobbyn’s guild. His last job seemed to take place almost two years ago, but then the informations got very scarce and shady. Some said that Pyro had ceised it’s partnership with Arobbyn and fleed to Australia. Others said it was in Africa forming an alliance with AlQaeda in Arobbyn’s name, and one of Rowan’s informants swore that Pyro was working for the King. In other words, a bunch of unreliable information. 

He didn’t even know if Pyro was a man or a woman, old or young, tall or short. Rowan had been considering the possibility to go ask Arobbyn himself when something new came. Not something, someone. The body of an unknown man was found in a alley in Naples, with third degree burns in his hands, eyes and genitals and a dagger in his heart. The Italian police was completely lost, but Rowan had recognized the pattern. Many of Pyro’s alleged targets had showed up in the same way: with burned body parts and a dagger in their hearts.

Rowan didn’t particularly care why they ended up that way. He knew that in this business – his business too –, the most important thing was to deliver results: if one paid you to kill someone else, hows and whens and wheres hardly matter. People wanted the problem to be gone, and the least they know, the better.

But all this questions were useful to him, because the more he understood his target, the more likely he would be able to track it down. So he booked the first flight to Naples and had spent the last week trying to solve the case by himself.

And he was getting close, but not fast enough. He kicked a pebble on the street. He already knew in which store the dagger responsible for the killing blow was bought, but none of the salesmen remembered selling it in the last few weeks. Pyro probably stole the weapon, which was really smart, and Rowan hasn’t been able – yet – to take a look in the security cameras. And the identity of the victim was still a mistery. Hell, if Rowan wasn’t so frustrated, he would be quite impressed. He was actually looking forward to meet Pyro, and he couldn’t remember the last time he got excited about someone. Or something.

Suddenly, he stopped. He was closer than he expected of his place, his feet taking him automatically while his mind wandered, but Rowan stopped because he thought he could hear a fighting, probably in one of the parallel streets. Normally he would just keep walking, but ever since he got out of the club, ever since that… girl had turned her back on him, the screams were louder. Rowan began the night hoping that a more pleasurable activity would muffle them down, but now it seemed that his only alternative was to throw himself into an alley fight and hope to not knock someone out with just one punch.

He walked fast towards the sound, turning right and trying to peek into the crossing alleyways to discover the origin of the noises. He looked left and stopped abruptly.

A cloud had covered the moon and Rowan couldn’t distinguish any details, but he could see enough. Four men were on the floor, all looking unconscious or in great level of pain, and a fifth man was fighting someone further on the street. Rowan couldn’t see the other fighter because it was darker that deep into the lane and the fifth man was blocking his view. 

He started to run in their direction, but just as he was getting close, the fifth fighter was pushed towards Rowan, and they both went to the floor. 

He cursed and pushed the man – now whimpering in the floor and holding what it seemed to be a broken arm – away from him, but when he got back to his feet, the mistery person was already far away, so deep into the dark that he could only distinguish its faint steps. And soon those were gone too.

He considered going after the fighter, but something got his attention. Two feet away, lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood, was a tall man with a dagger in his left eye. Rowan got closer, and he instantly recognized the hilt of the dagger. It was identical to the one found stuck into the unknown man’s heart. Now, what were the odds of that being a coincidence?

He bent and checked the man’s pulse. He was still alive, but wasn’t going to be able to answer any questions so soon. Rowan straighten himself and analyzed the situation. He was cool and calm now, his mind already running possibilities and odds and scenarios. All the men wore the same clothes, so he could presume that they were a team or some sort of squad, and their target was probably the person who’d run away. Not only that, but had apparently beat the crap out of them before doing so. Feeling a rush of adrenaline through his body, he marched towards the man with the broken arm and grabbed his hair, forcing him to look into Rowan’s eyes.

“Who was that person?”

The man only whimpered and tried to avoid his gaze. He had no patience for that. He grabbed the broken arm and squeezed. The man cried in pain.

“Was he Pyro?”

The man nooded, tears in his eyes.

“How did he look like? Do you know who is he?”

The man was very pale and started do shake his head, but Rowan firmed his grip on his arm and the man broke.

“B-back pocket,” he said before fainting.

Rowan searched his back pocket and found a picture.

And his heart stopped.

He picked his phone and turned on the flashlight, just to be sure he wasn’t allucinating. She was wearing sunglasses, her face turned sideways, but he had admired that hair, that nose and that cheekbones no more than and an hour ago.

Rowan felt an icy rage take over his body, and gripped the photo so tight that his knuckles turned white.

Oh, that little vixen was in deep, deep trouble. And he would make sure she wouldn’t be able to escape from it any time soon.

friendly reminder that Chaol initially point blank refused to go to the Torre Cesme even though it was his only chance at ever walking again because he didn’t want to leave Dorian again.

The most unrealistic thing about Skam

… is that no one wears glasses! Where is my glasses representation?! I’m waiting, Julie.

Originally posted by ffs-janiel


Hayyyy I made the bby a Twitter so like if you have an account feel free to follow him if you wantttt <3333

guess who’s most of the way through wizard and glass

if you don’t think susan  delgado is the shining star of that flashback idk what to tell you

in tyranny

In which Drunk Molly is a tyrant and Sherlock falls all over himself to do (nearly) anything she wants. Goes along with this.


The sound was Sherlock’s only warning. He glanced over at his astoundingly inebriated girlfriend just in time to see her slide sideways off of the toilet, where he’d sat her temporarily so he could get out of his soiled clothes. Sherlock lunged, catching her just before she whacked her skull against the sink.

Keep reading

October 22 - lost glasses

So @nightmaretyrantvantas and I had a sleepover
And we lost her glasses….
I have been searching for them for the past hour and a half, and I still can’t find them.

Tomorrow night shall hold a funeral for them….

I also have not found the sock …..

anonymous asked:

Can you physically ingest fire, like just eat the flame from a candle? If uck your hand in a fire, would the fire become like an extension of your own body's fire or would it be separated like oil on water? Can you make your fire blue or white, and can you burn people or things you touch if you want to? How painful is water for you to touch? How much would it take to seriously harm you? How much damage would one spilled glass do, if there was an accident? I'm sorry if that's too many questions.

Whoa, there. Calm down. Yes, those are… too many questions. 

Yes, I can eat any normal fire. Even the candle. It’s not of my liking, but yeah. I can control… both my fire and other. I can’t control other fire elemental’s fire, though. My control over my element is precise… I can decide if you burn… or not. And yes, my flame can change color depending on my mood. I guess you’ve seen me in different moods through out this year.

Yes… water can hurt me real bad… depending on the amount of it. A glass full of water on my hand could… “put it out” for a few weeks. And… I’m done with this questions.