you know, sometimes I get offended when my mom calls me “weird” but then again, I have to remind myself that most seventeen year olds don’t listen to Italian singers while doing their homework crying out STAMMI VICINO!! at the top of their lungs
after the initial screaming i’m thinking that i really love that baekhyun decided to show us a baeksoo kiss. it’s nice to discover the different kinds of closeness kyungsoo has with every member and how he reacts to certain situations. it’s like collecting small piece of a puzzle and getting to know a little more of him :’)
I’m just extremely frustrated. I wish that blocking this person could be the last of it. If I thought explaining things would help, I would. But from past experience I know it won’t. And like I just want this to be done. My heart has been literally racing for the last hour. I’m just so done. Please stop. And stop demanding others to play “mailgirl” for you. Not cool.
I just hope that people can see there are two sides to a story. Your actions, regardless of how you intend them, do have an impact on people.
But a thought I had while playing FFXV for the first time came back to mind.
Spoilers coming for after chapter 9 and I’m on mobile, so I can’t figure out html.
Consider yourself warned lol
So, we know what happens to Ignis but we don’t know how. Anybody else wonder if he was blinded by his own glasses? Like… something happens that causes his glasses to shatter into his eyes? It would be incredibly dark and painfully ironic to have a character that needs his world “crystal clear” blinded by his own device for clarity. Then the glasses he has until chapter 15 would be the spare they talked about earlier in the game.
Let me also say that the pattern and texture of the scarring looks more like a burn or something blew up in his face. So I’m probably almost definitely lol wrong. But what if? Maaaan I’m so excited for his DLC. I need to know omg.
i am emptying,
pouring cascades of emotion
into dark, bottomless wells
before returning to the parched,
cracked land that i prefer.
feeling exists only in 3 am darkness,
in pounding rain, in secret,
not my 8 am calculus class.
still, my heart pounds even
in the school’s fluorescent lights,
as i calculate probabilities –
and the probability of feeling like this.
so i must empty
because my shaky pencil
promises that emotion
is a weakness.
“a clear mind is better,”
i whisper to myself, while
at the front of the room,
a student explains number 42.
“it is better,” i say again, with quiet
cementing itself into my tense frame,
but i wonder if my laughter slipped
into those depths, as well.
Face down on the boardroom’s large table, her phone buzzed. Claire glared at it with the familiar annoyance that came with the sudden reminder that she had forgotten to switch it off. It had to be Owen. Amongst countless other reasons why her phone would be making noises, the fact that she was two weeks into a settlement was enough of a reason that Owen was the only one lighting up her phone in the first thirty minutes of an 8am meeting.
Her phone buzzed a second time, quickly followed by a third several minutes later. When it sounded a fourth time, device rattling against wood obnoxiously, Claire pulled it into her lap. All eyes of the full room were on her as she sank into her chair, offering a quiet apology as she gripped her phone between her hands. ‘Mon mari’ she offered the group with a little shrug half hoping a few would laugh it off. Claire had never known the French for her sense of humour.
She avoided checking her messages for what felt like an eternity, allowing the meeting to get underway before she flipped the device in her hands and pressed softly on the home key. Four messages; all from Owen. The heat rushed to Claire’s cheeks almost immediately, the second she opened the texts. Instinctively she locked the screen, dropping the device to her lap to conceal what she had seen as Claire stared dumbly at the space in front of her. It took a second to recover, opening the message again to check that Owen in fact had sent words on how much he was missing her as he was climbing into bed; along with visual aid.
“You were directly involved in bringing down the Empire. You and Artoo. So I don’t know why you’re calling me Master. Why you call anyone Master. Seems like people should call you that.”
“Why…I…I don’t know, sir. Programming, I suppose. All droids must do as they are programmed.”
OF COURSE Poe Dameron cares about the civil rights of droids and respects them as individuals. He’s not going to perpetuate a weird slavery hangover where even heroes of the Galactic Civil War are programmed to scrape and bow to humans and call them ‘master’.