things that are beautiful and otherworldly

Significant Weather Advisory 

by reddit user OtistheWriter

I hate thunderstorms in the Midwest, mainly because they bring with them a threat of real danger. In southern Nebraska we’ve been known to have tornados somewhat regularly, ugly black funnels that drop from the sky and ruin your life. 

That is, if you lived in my neighbors house in 1997, when I was a teenager. I’m referring to a family of three just several homes down. Family friends and caretakers of our corgi while we were on vacation, they helped our street feel like home. Then the storm came and everything changed.

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QUEEN OF THE ILLYRIANS

@huntress-of-velaris YOU WICKED BEAUTIFUL BRILLIANT THING.

I should explain. Ok. So. For those of you who don’t know, evidently, @huntress-of-velaris is rereading ACOTAR and has been noting how often SJM refers to Nesta as queenly or otherworldly, and made a comment about how Queen of the Illyrians would be a good start but GuYS WHAT IF

WHAT IF NESTA AND CASSIAN ARE MATES AND NESTA BECOMES QUEEN OF THE ILLYRIANS

THINK OF THE POSSIBILITIES.

ALL THE ISSUES WITH THE GIRLS BEING UNABLE TO TRAIN WOULD BE ELIMINATED

THERE WOULD BE REAL PROGRESS ON ERADICATING THE WHOLE WINGS CLIPPING THING because God bless Rhys, but he has a hundred thousand other things to be taking care of and can’t supervise the Illyrians closely enough to ensure that does happen

AND CASSIAN WOULD BE BY HER SIDE THE WHOLE TIME

ALL HAIL NESTA ARCHERON, QUEEN OF THE ILLYRIANS 2K17

Sally Jackson

Sometimes, Sally lies awake at night. She stares up at the ceiling in her quiet house—ignoring Paul’s snores—and she thinks the same thought over and over again. What if.

It’s not a question. It’s never been a question, because there’s never been a definitive answer.

She thinks about Annabeth during nights like these. Paul loves her, considers her to be like a daughter. Strangely, Sally’s never felt this way. To call Annabeth her daughter would infantilize a brilliantly strong woman who is more than capable of standing by herself. If anything, Sally is hopelessly envious.

It’s a guilty feeling. Annabeth’s life has been hard, needlessly so. Sally doesn’t want to brush aside that pain and hardship just to focus on an ideal. But…Sally was young too, once.

She was young. And smart. And powerful. And hopeful. And strong. She wanted to change the world.

She watches as Annabeth rebuilds Mount Olympus, leaves her mark on this world in a permanent way. An old flame burns inside Sally’s soul.

What if.

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anonymous asked:

sajeon why is jimin the fairy (of anything) in bts? something is lost in the translation for me. help!

Because he’s pretty and ethereal and his beauty is considered “otherworldly.” It started out as a nickname and now everybody calls him that.

Anonymous said: hiii so, i want to ask you about the one bangtan (bomb i think??) where JK had to do a punishment by doing pushups and JM filmed(?) him and he LITERALLY SAID “okay BABY blabla” like…he legit called jk baby super casually…*screams my trash fangirl brain out* other than the fact that its simply pure adorable, is that like…a common thing in korea? guys calling younger guys like that? i’m genuinely curious thats why im reaching u^^ also i live for ur tumblr!! x ❤️

Thank you! No, it’s not a common thing for guys to casually call each other baby. I made a post about the various ways people use “baby” in Korea here. Hopefully that will help!

Anon: sajeon-nim i was just rewatching some bts videos and i came across this one (music bank stardust) where JK had to carry SG,V and JM under the limbo thing, when it was JM’s turn, JH said something which i understood as “wife” but i’m not sure cuz maybe there’s a korean word that is pronounced the same way ;__; please enlighten me, thank you so much <3  

No, it sort of sounds like it but he didn’t say wife.

Anon: Sa Jeon Nim. In now3, jungkook kept saying I want you to Jimin while filming him and jimin even blushed and told him to stop. Is what jungkook said really translate to “I want you.”? In what conversation, it usually used? 갑 or각 고싶다.? (Sorry. I don’t know how to spell.) 

It’s 갖고싶다. And yes, it more or less translates to “I want [you]” and no, there isn’t a heterosexual answer to this - it sounds exactly like what you think it means.

In Korean, 갖고싶다 is used to indicate something that you want - usually items but when applied to people… It’s a possessive thing. It means Jungkook wants to have Jimin.

We Are One Mess - Stafou

Things are going well for LeFou.

Belle and Maurice appear to have forgiven him and everyone in the village is making sure he knows he isn’t blamed for a thing. LeFou notices there is a lightness in his steps that hasn’t been there for a very long time.

“Bonjour!” LeFou smiles at Agatha, nodding as a way of greeting. He makes his way over to the tavern, the sun setting and painting the sky a combination of beautiful reds and pinks.

As he opens the door the tavern he is immediately greeted by laughter and other noises and he smiles as he hops onto one of the stools at the bar. This isn’t so bad.

A beer is slid in front of him and when he looks up, he sees Stanley grinning at him. “LeFou.” Stanley slides onto the stool next to him, their elbows touching. LeFou takes a big gulp of his beer. “How was your day?” It is such a simple question, but the smile that Stanley sends in his direction causes LeFou’s heart to flutter. “I uh- I went to the castle. Belle had something she wanted to show me.” LeFou shrugs. He wouldn’t tell Stanley about the reading lessons he was getting from Belle. Not yet.

“How was yours?’ He asks instead. “It was – ah, uneventful.” Stanley ducks his head, his cheeks colouring slightly darker than usual. “Want to get out of here?” “We can go back to mine if you want?” LeFou offers as an answer, smiling slightly. Stanley merely nods.

As soon as the pair felt like there was nobody around that could see them, Stanley’s hand found LeFou’s and the two continued to walk to LeFou’s small cottage hand in hand. LeFou allowed Stanley to enter his tiny house before him, taking his jacket, hanging it over one of the squeaky old dining chairs and closing the door. As soon as the door falls shut, Stanley’s arms are around LeFou, embracing him tightly. LeFou lets out a little sound, before relaxing into the embrace and burying his face in the crook of Stanley’s neck. “I missed you today.” Stanley mutters and LeFou hums. “I did too.” The pair breaks apart, smiling softly at one another. Stanley grabs his bag, pulling out a small package carrying the logo of LeFou’s favourite baker. Stanley sits down and slides the package to LeFou.

“What’s this?” LeFou picks up the box, a big smile plastered on his face. “A little something for my favourite person.” LeFou opens the box, taking out a cupcake, a delicate little sugar flower on top of it as decoration. LeFou leans over the table, pressing a small kiss on Stanley’s cheek.

Yes, things are going well for LeFou.

*

Some days, things are not going so well for LeFou.

On days he doesn’t spend with Stanley, insecurities and doubt fill his mind and heart, suffocating him. Stanley is without a doubt the most important person in LeFou’s life. He’s funny, handsome, kind, caring and just about everything LeFou isn’t.

Stanley can get everyone he desired, especially now that Gaston – Well, let’s just say Gaston isn’t snatching away any of the village’s ladies anymore.  He can be with someone he can show off to the entire village, something he most definitely cannot with LeFou.

LeFou looks at himself in the mirror, hating how his reflection isn’t fully visible, his sides being too wide. (Never mind the fact that if he takes a step backwards, he will be) He lets out a frustrating groan.

“What are you doing mon amour?” LeFou turns around at once, facing Stanley with his tear-stained face. “Oh, LeFou.” Stanley coos, stepping closer to his lover. “I just want to be skinny.” LeFou sniffles. “Why on earth would you want that, LeFou?” LeFou looks down at his feet. “I just want to be good enough for you.” He didn’t mean to say it out loud, he really didn’t. The words just slipped.

“Oh LeFou! Non! Tu es parfait maintenant! Tu es plus parfait! S’il te plaît, écoute moi! You are the most perfect person I know!” Stanley rushes towards LeFou, cradling LeFou’s face between his large hands. “You are caring and loyal. You are kind and ambitious. I love cuddling with you and I love how well you fit in my arms. I don’t care if you’re not skinny, LeFou, I care if you’re happy. Tu es mon rêve, mon amour.” Stanley gently wipes away LeFou’s tears, leaning down and softly kissing LeFou’s lips. “Je t’aime.” He whispers against the other man’s lips, before pressing them together once more.

Some days are not going well for LeFou, but he will always have his Stanley to make them better.

*

Stanley is happy.

He has the most wonderful lover and he feels like the two of them can’t possible get any happier. This doesn’t mean, however, that there isn’t something nagging at Stanley. Something that has been nagging him ever since his first encounter with Madame de Garderobe and her majestic creations.

When Tom, Dick and himself were put into dresses of the most gorgeous, soft fabrics, it had repulsed Tom and Dick, but not Stanley. No, Stanley had loved the way the soft fabrics fell around his body and felt beautiful, especially with de kind and uplifting words coming from the Madame. So ever since then, he has been going to Madame de Garderobe, comparing colours and drawing designs for the most wonderful dresses for the most gorgeous of mesdames. Madame de Garderobe has even told him he’d make for a great apprentice and she would love to take him on, if that is something that he would be interested in.

Truth be told, he wants nothing more, but something is holding him back. After all, he doesn’t want LeFou to regard him as – No, he will not fall into his doubts so deeply again. He must be the strong and masculine one of them, LeFou carrying enough troubles and doubts for them both.

So, he told Madame ‘no’ with his gaze on the floor, before hurrying out of the castle. Yet every Saturday morning, he makes his way back to the castle, surrounding himself with colours and fabrics and the wonderful person that is Madame de Garderobe. And he doesn’t say a single word to his lover.

*

“Bonjour, Madame!” Stanley greets her brightly when he enters the chambers. “Stanley! Oh, Stanley! I have the most wonderful thing to show you!” Stanley laughs and follows Madame de Garderobe into the other room, where she makes all her wonderful creations. Stanley stops abruptly when he sees the mannequin in the centre of the room, the most beautiful, gorgeous dress he has ever seen hanging from it.

“Well, what do you think?” “Madame, votre création est magnifique! The girl who will get the honour of wearing these otherworldly fabrics will be the luckiest of all!” “C’est me pas pour une fille, my dear lad.” She smiles, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Stanley steps closer to the mannequin, his fingers dancing over the soft peach-coloured fabric, entranced by the beauty and difficult designs. “Pour qui-” Stanley glances up at the Madame. “Pour toi, Stanley.” “For me? But-” “It’s exactly your size. Go! Try it on for me, s’il te plaît.” And how could he say no to those pleading eyes?

*

LeFou whistles a little tune as he walks out of the library. The reading and writing lesson went especially well today. Maybe sometime soon he will be able to write an actual letter to Stanley. The thought only caused his smile to broaden. “This is – I’ve never felt so beautiful in my life, Madame.” LeFou hears a familiar voice say. Stanley.

He follows the sound of his excited chatter and walks into the chambers of Madame de Garderobe. He wonders what has lead Stanley to be as happy, since it has been a while since he heard the man this excited. He glanced inside the other chamber, de working space of Madame, and sees Madame de Garderobe looking fondly at Stanley who’s twirling in front of a full-sized mirror, dressed in – LeFou’s eyes widen. Stanley is twirling in a detailed, peach-coloured dress, his lips appearing to be slightly darker than usual and a light pink colouring his eyes.

Stanley gasps when he locks eyes with LeFou through the mirror and turns around abruptly. “LeFou! This isn’t – It’s really not-” Tears well up in Stanley’s eyes and he shuffles his feet. “Madame, could I have a moment with Stanley, s’il vous plaît?” He smiles at her. Warily, she takes her leave. Stanley doesn’t dare look LeFou in the eye as the shorter man walks closer to him. “Stanley, you-” LeFou raises his hand. Stanley flinches back. “Oh, Stan. You look-” Stanley sucks in a breath. “Disgusting? Like a freak? You never wish to see me again?” From the other chamber, Madame de Garderobe makes an indignant sound.

“Stanley, you look stunning.” LeFou speaks quietly, not wanting to startle or cause distress any more. Stanley carefully meets LeFou’s eyes, tears starting to fall once he saw the sincerity in them. “How- Why aren’t you-?” Stanley can’t understand. This wonderful, amazing man, accepted him?

“Stanley.” LeFou wipes away Stanley’s tears, careful of the simple, yet fitting, make-up. “I love you.” Stanley lets out a throaty laugh. “I love you, too, mon amour. Thank you for-” LeFou cuts him off. “There is absolutely nothing to thank me for. Tu es parfait, Stanley.”

*

One night, a fortnight later, LeFou is getting ready for the ball he was personally invited to by Belle. “Are you sure you won’t join me?” He looks at Stanley through the reflection of the mirror. Stanley is looking at his lover with a wide smile, from where he is leaning against the door post. “Yes, I’m sure. Madame de Garderobe had something the wanted to show me.” “Join me after?” “Don’t assume, but maybe I will. I have no idea how long Madame will take. I do know she is expected to sing at the ball this evening. Come here.” LeFou turns around as Stanley walks over to him, gently taking the strands of the ribbon around LeFou’s neck and tying it together in a neat bowtie. “The pink suits you, mon amour.” “All my ribbons are pink, Stanley.” Stanley hums as response, pressing a kiss on LeFou’s forehead. “Je sais, but pink is quite your colour.” LeFou chuckles and walks past him, exiting their shared bedroom. “Have you told Madame de Garderobe that you will take the apprenticeship yet?” Stanley follows suit. “Not yet, but I will tonight.” He hands LeFou his coat. “Enjoy yourself this evening, mon amour.” “It would turn out better if you would join me. At least join me on the ride to the castle?”

*

The pair separates in the entrance hall of the castle, after both greeting Lumière, who is welcoming the guests.

LeFou makes his way to the ballroom, while Stanley walks towards the chambers of Madame de Garderobe.

“Salut Madame, you had something to show me?” “Stanley! Oui, come!” She smiles one of her trademark mischievous smiles at him and pushes a grey dress in his hands. “Let’s give that man of you a little surprise, shall we?” “But Madame! The people-” “Will be dealt with by me and my Froufrou if they dare speak badly of you! Now get dressed! I didn’t spend all week on sewing for nothing.” She walks off and Stanley starts to get dressed. The grey fabric falls over his shoulders and Stanley eyes himself in the mirror. The grey is decorated with rich patterns of the most vibrant of blues. It is absolutely stunning. Stanley sits down at the table where the Madame holds all her powders and coals and starts to working on his face, a nervous yet exciting feeling settling in his belly.

*

LeFou can’t say that he isn’t having a good time, because he is. Yet he also knows Stanley’s presence can make it infinitely better. He smiles at the lady he is dancing with and twirls her around. As she steps from him to turn, another person slides in, filling her space.

LeFou looks up and smiles broadly when he sees Stanley in front of him, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, yet his lips are lifted in a nervous smile. 

“You look gorgeous, Stanley.” LeFou tells the taller man as he leads Stanley through the dance. In the background, they hear Madame de Garderobe singing her beautiful tunes, her husband by her side and her beloved Froufrou in her arms.

And in that moment, in the ballroom, surrounded by people who don’t even spare the gentlemen a second glance, they were infinite.

cosmically fond. #2

Originally posted by kimthwriter

drabble #2

  • pairing: alien!taehyung x reader.
  • genre: LOL
  • words: 1.124
  • summary: discovering something on earth he really does not like.

| #1 |

note: thank you to the anon for requesting this cute idea, also this is roughly edited so pls be kind ((:


“Don’t put that in your mouth! No! Taehyung that’s a handful of dirt, put it down!”

Thirteen day, four hours, and twenty two minutes to be exact, was how long the strange boy with a child’s sense of self-preservation had been in your life. It was still quite a ringer to your mind that you had literally been housing an other worldly being in your spare bedroom, the same one that had once been filled with cluttered boxes you’d never gotten around to clearing out.

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always us

my sixth entry for klanceweek! this time, for prompt #6: quote. this is a continuation of prompt #5!

still debating whether or not to cross-post these entries on ao3 so let me know what you think. again, you can also find these short ficlets on twitter!

day 1 / day 2 / day 3 / day 4 / day 5

I’m picturing us on rooftops

in strange cities,

with strange people,

and us.

Always us.

— “I’m not sure if this is for love or old friendships or new friendships” by Claire Luisa

So this is what Keith’s life has come to.

Guests from every corner of the universe seem to be gathered for the day’s celebration. Each is dressed lavishly in the traditional attire of their people, creating a stunning spectacle of rich cloth, dangling jewels, and enchanting body art, like thousands of dancing canvases.

As a prince, Lance is dressed like royalty. Allura managed to find an old suit of her father’s on board the ship. Thankfully, the Altean style is similar to that of the Vruan’s. The suit material glimmers a dazzling baby blue under the light of the levitating chandelier overhead. Lance wears a white button-down beneath his suit jacket with the top two buttons undone. Blue swirls adorn his collarbone, as well as his shoulders, hidden for now. Tiny white and blue dots stretch the length of both eyebrows, and the makeup Allura chose makes his eyes stand out even more than usual. Turquoise gems adorn the rings on his fingers and dangle from fragile silver chains on his ears.

As much as Keith hates to admit it, Allura and Coran did an amazing job. Lance certainly has an ethereal, royal air about him.

Which is great for the mission but terrible for Keith’s sanity.

Every few minutes, while they make their way through the crowd, Keith convinces himself everything is fine. Then, he stares at Lance for a second too long and the allusion is shattered. Lance is easily one of the most beautiful people in attendance. It’s almost impossible to ignore the whole crush thing when said crush practically looks like an otherworldly being, like a fucking god or goddess or something.

Keith, on the other hand, feels… out of place.

The prince’s escort is not allowed to dress more extravagantly than the prince himself. His suit clings comfortably to his figure, and the black color with red accents certainly complements Lance’s outfit. A silver chain hangs around his neck with a small charm, adorned with the Vruan crest. The ring on his right hand matches one of Lance’s, boasting a sizable ruby. In the Vruan culture, a matching set represents the bond between the prince and his escort.

“Like wedding rings,” Pidge was all too happy to point out when Coran presented the rings to them.

At the moment, Lance is chatting up two lanky aliens. Keith doesn’t recognize them, but the tiny gold crowns on both of their heads are explanation enough.

“Of course, of course,” Lance answers with a little chuckle. “Thank you for your time.” He bows to both in turn and then grabs Keith’s hand. Even through his gloves, Keith senses the faint trembling of Lance’s fingers. He’s nervous?

Keith lets Lance drag him toward the center of the dancefloor. There’s a lull in the music and most guests have cleared the area. Once they reach a spot far from any potential eavesdroppers, Lance stops and fixes his attention on Keith.

“None of these people know where that stupid Galran prince is,” Lance hisses, lowering his voice. “Hell, the first few couples I talked to didn’t even know the dude was alive.”

Before Keith can answer, the band picks up where it left off. But, this time, the music has a more pleasant, slow melody. Keith curses softly under his breath. Of course the next song starts right as he and Lance reach the center of the dancefloor. They need to move and fast.

But Lance doesn’t seem to be on the same wavelength.

Far too gracefully, he wraps an arm around Keith’s waist and draws him closer. Keith is too busy having a minor heart attack, what the fuck, to stop Lance from intertwining their fingers and lifting their clasped hands. Unsure of what to do, Keith lets his other arm hang awkwardly at his side. “Uh—Lance?”

“Put your other hand on my shoulder,” Lance whispers. “Get rid of that noodle arm right now.”

“But… what… are we dancing?”

“Not yet, but we’re about to be.”

Keith reluctantly obeys Lance’s instructions. His gloves feel far more constricting than before, and, yep, here comes the sweat. He silently hopes there aren’t pit stains on his suit. And if he starts to smell, too, that’ll be the end of him. No more Keith Kogane.

Lance slowly begins to spin. Completely out of his element, Keith blindly follows. Or at least attempts to.

“You’ve never danced before, have you?” Lance prompts.

“Uh… no…”

“Right. That explains why you’ve stepped on my feet, like, four times now. Even though you’re looking down like a weirdo.” Lance scoffs and shakes his head. The light catches the jewels on his earrings as they swing. “You really never went to any of the Garrison dances?”

“Seriously? Of course not,” Keith huffs.

“Alright, geez, calm down. I should’ve known.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You look way too good in that suit to be giving me such an awful headache,” Lance whines.

He thinks I look good. Keith feels his heart crawl up his throat. That had to be a joke.

“And you look way too good to be giving me shit right now,” Keith quips. Two can play at this game. “But here we are.”

“You think… I look good?”

Keith considers tearing out his own tongue. Maybe it’ll keep him from saying embarrassing things for the rest of the evening. “I mean, Allura and Coran did a good job of making you look like a prince.” Smooth.

“I guess they did,” Lance mutters. He almost sounds… disappointed. “Now, to avoid blowing our cover, please just follow my lead. Okay?”

“Okay.” Keith can’t bring himself to protest. Lance makes a good point. A prince and escort would definitely know how to dance.

Lance resumes turning, carefully guiding Keith along. Other couples smile fondly whenever they pass on the dancefloor. To his delight, by the tenth or so turn, Keith quits stepping on Lance’s feet. They develop a comfortable rhythm, each footfall in time with the beat of the song. As the musicians continue to strum their instruments on stage, Keith takes a second to close his eyes. The melody really is beautiful.

The longer they dance, the closer they seem to get. Keith isn’t sure who’s responsible, but he likes to think they’re both at fault.

Keith inhales Lance, savors the body heat and comfort of being so close without the worry of what others might think. That’s the beauty of disguises. For a time, no matter how brief, you’re someone else. You can do just about anything under the guise of staying in-character.

At least that’s the excuse you can use if someone later questions your actions.

This moment feels fragile to Keith. It’s almost as if he and Lance are an actual couple, dancing together at a party. Keith wonders what it would be like to travel the universe like this. Lance at his side, a steady presence, a constant.

Keith lets himself be a bit selfish. He leans his forehead against Lance’s and breathes. His heart beats a frantic staccato in his chest, but he doesn’t pull away.

And neither does Lance.

In Media Res | Jungkook

Scenario: I’m a photographer for this big fancy wedding so I’m going around and snapping pictures of everyone and oh wow you are so incredibly otherworldly in your beauty and oops turns out I end up taking more pictures of you than the happy couple
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 8,592
Author’s Note: Jayesslee’s Sonia Lee & Andy Yang’s wedding video and the wedding from (500) Days of Summer both played a big inspiration for the making of this story. I just love outdoor weddings okay. In Media Res is latin for “in the middle of things”.

.

There’s something about a camera that has always fascinated Jungkook, as well as the mechanics that come along with owning and being able to operate one at his will. The idea that he could physically capture a moment or a memory within the confines of a tangible object, a place where he knows the information inside could not slip or fade away (unlike the thoughts and visions that more often than not slipped through his mind like grains of sand passing through his fingers) gave Jungkook a sense of reassurance.

For the longest time, Jungkook found calm and chased the peace that came with trying to capture an image. His computer and memory drive are filled with scenic shots, candid snapshots caught perfectly in time. He likes the idea of needing to be fast enough to realize when something good, something breathtaking and so completely irreplaceable was about to happen—and having to be quick enough, sharp enough, to catch that moment on camera.

So when Seokjin-hyung requests Jungkook to be the official photographer for his upcoming wedding—Jungkook is ecstatic that the older man would even consider Jungkook in the first place. Weddings are beautiful, timeless, and (most of the time) only happen once during the course of someone’s life. A wedding is filled with memories just waiting to be captured.

So Jungkook answers in the way he feels most equipped to react: “I would love to hyung.”

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I leave you with one of the most fantastic, beautiful, rebel, genre-bending, non-conformist, otherworldly, phenomenal artists ever, covering another. 

Many thanks to you for reading. 

Many thanks to @crocodalerock​ for always supporting, proofing, and suggesting ways to make things better.

Many thanks to Hendrik, for handing over this beautiful thing he’s built, to me, for the second time. It’s been an absolute pleasure and honour. 

Many thanks to Janelle Monáe for everything. 

When Rolling Stone asked if Monáe was nervous to cover such an iconic song, she answered “Hellll no.” 

May we all be so fearless in going after our dreams. 

anonymous asked:

This may be a weird ask but what did you think of the VFX used for Wanda's powers in Civil War compared to Age of Ultron? Was there any reason given as to why it was changed?

For reference:

In Age of Ultron, it’s aiming for ethereal. You can see the energy going up her wrists and out of her fingers in delicate lines. It has a smoky quality, and sometimes, it covers her hands. Towards the end, we get her starting to remote control things with balls of light, which is what she does in CW.

In Civil War, you can’t see the magic inside her body. It’s more something she’s working with than something that flows from her. It becomes spherical, instead of moving in streams. There are no more tendrils. It’s mostly balls of light, and they’re harder and more complete, suggesting more control.

I don’t think anyone has commented on the change, but the CW version is a more advanced take on what we see in the final fight of AOU. She’s holding it in her hands, not letting it flow. It’s less beautiful, but more sure of itself. The power is centralized outside of her, rather than beginning in her body and branching out. It feels like a maturation, and I’m interested to see how it changes going forward. 

Compare the choreography we’ve seen on the IW set with what was in Age of Ultron. It’s the same idea, but it feels like a different person. There is an otherworldly tranquility to Wanda in AOU (see also: the infamous “calm face” debacle), and there is no tranquility in that IW set video. The movements are rapid and forceful. There’s no attempt to convey ~calm beauty~. Both of these things, the difference in the movements and the difference in the shape of her powers, are reflections of her arc.

Snow Day - Victor, Yuuri, Yuri, and a little Otabek

It’s a snow day which means thinking about Victor and Yuuri and Yurio in the snow, obviously. 


SNOW DAY

In Hasetsu, you can go to bed in the middle of spring and wake to a world changed by a freak snowstorm. Balmy the day before, the air turns to ice, and snow hides the cherry blossoms and buds on suddenly heavy branches.

And it always reminds Yuuri of Victor.

Actually, it’s like Victor in a way. Something beautiful, but also full of contradictions. Something that should be impossible, a little otherworldly, and lovely enough to be a work of art—but also real enough to touch, to make Yuuri’s cheeks redden. 

But it’s not about putting Victor on a pedestal anymore. It’s acknowledging the very things that make him so incredible.

“Actually,” Victor says, pressing a kiss like a fallen blossom to Yuuri’s shoulder, “this weather always reminds me of you. After all, the first time I came here, it was exactly like this!” 

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anonymous asked:

I think a lot about that time Taemin sang Sekaide ichiban under the soft rain. It was just beautiful and perfect. That's my aesthetic, that's what i live for.

taemin joked about being the “rain main” a while ago, but if we’re talking about his (breathtaking) performance at a-nation, I think rain god would be more appropriate, as the people who were there expressed themselves:

everything about that performance was truly otherworldly. taemin always, always put his heart and soul into singing ballads to the point that it’s… painful, sometimes, to watch - it’s too emotional, too much, this thing where you can sense his feelings pouring out of him with his voice, his eyes, his gestures. 

he really did look unreal under the rain - all tender and powerful. beautiful takes on a whole new meaning when applied to him in moments like that one.

#161 - For Em & anonymous x2

Filling the prompts “Van worships you?” and “the girl and van are good friends and she has feelings for him but is too insecure to think he’d like her back so when van tells her he loves her she gets mad bc she thinks he’s playing her and he has to convince her that he isn’t lying” and “van really falling for the reader because he doesn’t usually meet girls who love wrestling as much as him” from Em


The world was filled with good and bad things you could not comprehend. Black holes. The spooky accuracy of horoscopes. How Foo Fights got so popular. Lupita Nyong’o’s ethereal otherworldly beauty. Complicated, logic-defying, confusing things that only served to freak you out and unsettle you entirely. Van was adding himself to the list. 

“Why… are you not sayin’ anything?” he asked. Because you didn’t believe him, that’s why. You didn’t understand him. What he was saying was impossible. 

“I… No… This can’t…” Fragmented sentences trying to communicate fragmented thoughts. You stood up and began to pace. Then, you walked away. Van followed you around the side of his house and out to your car. 

“Y/N,” he said, holding your door open when you went to close it after climbing in the front seat. “Where are you going?" 

"Home.” You could answer that. 

“You are home. That’s what I’m saying. You belong here, with me.” Your thoughts were too many in number, and combined they made a loud white noise in your head. Static. You couldn’t think. Van crouched down on the road, between you and the door. “Y/N, look at me.” You held the steering wheel, knuckles going white. Staring straight ahead, you begged yourself to not be like this, not to freak out. You would finally have what you always wanted if you could just manage to not freak out. “I know you like me. Why are you… What are you doing?" 

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anonymous asked:

finrod + humans

awwww anon! First Contact in general is one of my favorite subjects especially in sci-fi, to the point where that scene where the Vulcans land in Star Trek First Contact is the only movie scene ever that can be relied upon to make me cry every time I watch it. But, otoh:

long long after Finrod’s meeting with the Beorians, after some moved off out of Beleriand without taking place in the First Age clusterfuck, or after some of the populations who didn’t go to Numenor lost track of their history, and the record of this meeting passed into legend and myth, they have this strangely persistent folk tale archetype, or story motif, or ancient cultural meme, that still crops up.

It sort of exists alongside between those wildly different yet oddly similar tales of the fae and other spirits – the ones who come by night to snatch away babies and leave changelings in their place; the ones who sneak into peoples’ houses and secretly clean or leave presents behind for them without being seen; the ones who lure people to their dooms with their hypnotic songs or glimmering lights or hallucinations; or the ones who promise, for various reasons, to grant people great magical wishes if called upon; or the ones who lurk in the shadows just to deal some unknown hurt. It has the same weird faintly-narcissistic bent to it, the idea that not only are there strange and powerful beings out there, but that they are for some reason fascinated with humans and will go through a huge amount of effort just to come into contact with them. Or ensnare them.

This tale-image-thing has the same idea of some powerful, beautiful, otherworldly creature with glowing eyes and silent feet and a sweet irresistible voice who sneaks among sleeping humans and spins dreams and illusions; but the core of this story is that this creature, at the sight of humans, loses its heart to them and so it becomes the one ensnared, and its powers and arts are bent to the humans’ service until it dies. It’s a pretty silly and ego-stroking wish-fulfillment or power-fantasy trope, everyone knows the stories about the creatures who have sex with humans while they sleep and drain their lives are much more realistic and gritty. But somehow it just keeps popping up, again and again and again.

(After enough time has passed, Galadriel thinks it is the funniest thing she’s ever heard.)

Beauty is Skin Deep

I am the youngest daughter of four. It seems my family wasn’t meant to have sons but my parents have never been ones to care about that sort of thing. They consider themselves blessed to have such a large family, although they had no intention of having any more kids after me. Four was enough.

Although as the youngest I was drowned in affection and attention, I was always jealous of my older sisters. I don’t think I’m alone in being jealous of older siblings; after all they have more freedom than I did at such a tender age. But… my envy wasn’t just over that, it was more petty. Whereas my sisters had been incredibly lucky in the random roll of genetics, I did not consider myself to be. My parents told me otherwise, but that is something all parents do. As I grew into adolescence and they matured into their mid-teens and early adulthood, that envy only grew. My friends told me the same as my parents did, that I was just as beautiful as my sisters; again I put it down to being the kind of thing friends say even if it wasn’t true.

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anonymous asked:

How bout some Yandere Genji and Hanzo?

already did genji! also its p popular among yandere blogs to make Hanzo jsut… so devoted to his s/o and god,,,,,, i fucking love it.

Hanzo (Overwatch)

Hanzo is very stern with you- only because he worries. He doesn’t want anything to happen to you.

When he gets in a relationship with you- whether you’re willing or not- he treats you like a real life deity. He acts like everything else in the world would ruin you. He has to keep you in his home, don’t you understand?

He loves you, he really does, but he isn’t too lenient on punishments if you try to escape or fight him. He doesn’t leave scars- he’d never want to ruin your otherworldly beauty- but he’s not afraid to leave bruises and leave you weak. Why do you make him do this? It’d be much easier to just listen to him.

He’s quick to praise good behavior, though. Whenever you’ve done something really good (shown him love/affection on your own, doing things for him without being prompted, or staying put when he asks you to), or you’ve redeemed yourself after a punishment. He’ll bring you gifts or let you walk around outside- supervised, of course.

anonymous asked:

I was binge watching short animated films on youtube, and one films called Tzadik, by Oriel Berkovits reminded me of Token (the main character doesn't look like Token exactly, but it reminds me of how Token walks through different worlds and has his own demons to contend with).

oh wow!! I’m honored this beautiful short reminded you of Token! 

There’s that otherworldly thing going on and the melancholy feel that I can see the relation to so well. 

Yall should check it out though for the work itself, it’s lovely

“There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man… a land of both shadow and substance —of things and ideas…
…it lies between the pit of man’s fears and the summit of his knowledge.”

~Rod Serling, Twilight Zone
beauty-funny-trippy.tumblr

3

AND I’VE BEEN WANTING TO SHOW YOU THIS

When I meet @captainsnumple (who is an amazing and kind and gentle, lovely person oh my god) in Estonia, she gave me this before I left, on the condition that I not open it til I was home. 

IT’S A FUCKING ILLUSTRATED STORYBOOK OF A FIC I WROTE. 

Specifically, this fic, the Madoka crossover fic I jokingly call Michiru Magica, which is one of my favorites I’ve ever written, honestly. 

I feel like the way this looks doesnt really come across in pictures, but it’s beautifully done, the illustrations are perfect and the way the entire book is laid out is so thoughtful and conscious of the story. I’d have to post the whole thing for you to get a sense of it, and even then, I feel like you never could from photos. Snumple is astoundingly talents and always has been, but this was truly a cut above, the colors are lush and fulll and give such a sense of the otherworldly that I was trying so hard to invoke. 

And aside from all that, there’s the thoughtfulness of it all, to take something that I did and add such beauty to it. I adore when people springboard off things I’ve done, in fic or in art, and this took so much planning and real love, and I was genuinely touched by it. I still don’t really know what to say about it–it’s one of the best gifts I’ve ever received. 

percy-and-pierre  asked:

If you're still doing the miraculous x hunter word thing maybe the word breath? Also ily you are beautiful and fantastical and an otherworldly author!!!!!!!

AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH ^////////^ I’m so honored that you think I’m such a great writer and everything you said was so sweet and kind and and and akjfkjfjfkldjklfdjklfdjklJKDKLAJKDFJKLDFKJ THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!

This is a GonNoir drabble, since I haven’t written them in a while! Gon and Killua are dating in this one, but Gon doesn’t know Chat’s identity yet ^-^

Links:

BEAUTIFUL fanart by emthimofnight that sparked this whole au

Miraculous x Hunter tag with other drabbles, asks, etc & the ao3 series page


Gon froze at the quiet tap-tap sound against his window. He leaped out of bed at the second tap, throwing off the blankets and jumping off his bed’s raised platform.

He shouldn’t have been surprised to see Chat crouching on his balcony when he threw back the window curtains, but he was.

For a few seconds, the pair just stared at each other. Then Chat smiled, sharp teeth glittering in the dark. He nodded towards the window lock.

Gon’s breath caught in his throat. Chat wanted…he wanted to come inside? Now?

Technically, Gon should’ve been fast asleep. But Killua was away with his parents for the weekend and Gon could never sleep with his boyfriend’s warm back pressed into his side, the faint smell of his strawberry shampoo wafting through the air. Killua was his favorite teddy bear and without him, Gon’s bed felt too big and too empty.

He had no idea why Chat was awake though. Or why he was visiting Gon of all people.

Chat’s eyes burned electric blue as he waited patiently for Gon to get over his shock. Having that intense gaze locked on his face made Gon’s breath catch in his throat.

He still admired Chat. He still thought of his partner as amazing and incredible and, well, breathtaking.

But it was Killua who made him feel whole, complete. Chat might take his breath away, but Killua was the one who gave it back to him. It was Killua Gon wished was standing on his balcony right now, not his leather-clad superhero partner.

Gon was lonely, though. And if he couldn’t have one of his best friends to talk to tonight, he would accept the other.

He reached towards the window lock.