who looks at that face and thinks

Skulls and Roses 💀 🥀 (Part 3)

Jeon Jungkook 

College AU!, Tattooist AU!

PART ONE  PART TWO

Originally posted by allforcollection

Keep reading

4

“I was starting to think about our Tumblr generation, and how photos appear on Tumblr and people become almost like mini-stars of the internet, and you don’t know who the hell they are - they’re just anonymous faces. So I started to take photos, and make an effort to look completely different in each one, in different hotels and apartments all across America when I was travelling. And it just started to build from that. It was more the prima donna archetype at the beginning, really; I was reading a lot of books like Hollywood Babylon, focusing more on the gossipy, suicidal side of the ‘30s and '40s in Hollywood. That’s how it started, and then [’Electra Heart’] grew into a real project.“

Jackson Storm- Cars 3 Movie Theory

So Jackson Storm is a designed race car to be literally the best and the fastest. He is jet black with blue stripes and looks really cool but also has that evil vibe. In a leaked scene where McQueen is racing him, Jackson Storm is cocky, and says stuff like “I hope you enjoy retirement,” and “it’s okay, old man,” when referring to McQueen’s speed. McQueen has faced a “rude” racer in both previous films, but look who is on the stage with Jackson Storm.

Chick Hicks.

The trailer doesn’t explain why that devilish and mean racer is on stage with Jackson Storm, but I think it’s because he is Storm’s mentor. Chick Hicks was Lightning’s Thunder, and now here is the Storm. Jackson gets his rudeness from his mentor and also his undying desire to win.

But here’s the deep stuff. Jackson probably wants to respect McQueen. He probably respects the race too. He doesn’t hate McQueen, his mentor does. Jackson gets his hatred of McQueen because of Chick Hicks.

In the end, I believe McQueen will loose. He will get second or farther back and get really upset, knowing that his racing days are over. Jackson will see how upset McQueen is and then go over and compliment him and tell him how he really feels. This makes McQueen feel better.

And in the end? I want Jackson Storm to leave Chick Hicks and then become McQueens trainee, so that McQueen can still have the joy of racing through as a trainer, just like Doc Hudson.

concept

victor staggers into practice and yakov starts yelling at him because he thinks victor has a hangover. instead victor tells yakov with a deadass face that it’s because he’s had three servings of *katsudon* last night.

yakov’s jaw drops to the third layer of the earth and turns around to look at yuuri, who sheepishly goes

“it was actually four but i think his mind went blank after three”

4

Allison snarls: That’s right I’m not your friend, you f*cking bimbo. 

Lala pleads: Allison, stop! Nicole is here.

Allison: Nicole needs to know exactly what her mother is. A cheap, conniving, low-life bimbo who likes to go after married men. 

Ivory smiles: A married man who is also the father of my child.

Ivory smiles slyly at Niara and thinks to herself,  I’ve slept with both of your husbands, you b*tches.

Lala: Nicole, inside now. Hurry.

Ivory snaps: You don’t speak to my child either, Lala. 

Nicole whimpers: I’m scared. Please don’t say mean words. My teacher says-

Ivory shouts: GET YOUR ASS INSIDE NOW, NIC!

Nicole nods, then scurries away in tears, her little face crumpled with fear and worry.

Niara scoffs: Allison, why are you even concerned about this tramp? Look how she talks to her own small child.

Ivory: You’re one to talk, Niara. At least I don’t lock my kids out of their own house.

Niara suspicious: How the hell do you know that?

Ivory: I know a ton of things about BOTH of you. You thought you could come here and intimidate me, I suppose? Rich, classy San Myshuno socialites. Little do you know that I can destroy you both!  Now get off my property before I call the police.

anonymous asked:

I'm reading the Ciaphas Cain books and I'm wondering if we're meant to take them at face value; that is, Ciaphas is a coward who lucks his way into glory time and time again? Or is this the mis-remembered looks back of a true hero who saw so much of the horrors of war that he simply can't comprehend his own bravery and courage and hides in denial as an old man, unable to face the actual truth of what he did?

That’s an interesting one, since most people assume the former, but really the latter is even more fascinating. I think I like that one more.

Speak To Me - Sneak Peek

Mon-El gripped the clothes, they had a different smell than what he was used to. He smelled them, trying to contain the growing ache against his chest, as flames burned within his heart. The room was the dark, the small crib was empty and he could hear the rain pouring down outside.

He wanted to get up, but he felt so at home in there, as if he didn’t had to face the storm outside. He felt a presence and looked it up. His red eyes meeting Kara’s, who’s eyes were blank and devoid from emotion.

—     Please, say something — he begged. His own voice barely a whisper while he stared at the woman in front of him.  It was getting harder to breath, to think. The pain was overwhelming, and it was threatening to take him over completely. Looking at her, seeing the eyes that were once so full or life now being that dull, that made his heart succumb even more.

He saw as her moved around the empty room, towards the bookshelves of children books, the empty and white closet, the little toys perfectly organized on a shelve. Then, as if it destroyed her to even look at him, she said:

—     There’s nothing to say.


@karadanversprince, @emarasmoak, @kelbottumbles, @karamelizedlove, @busysciencegeek, @starcrossed-comets, @mon-kai-el

tinydear  asked:

Short Smut: Wintershock + blankets fresh out of the dryer

Originally posted by blissfullyignoran-t

Originally posted by selinaa-kyleee

Originally posted by kissing-pleasure


It wasn’t that he was lazy. Bucky was a man that spent five to eight hours a day drilling and training when he wasn’t on missions, a man who had abs that could probably crush a lemon between themselves….

Darcy ran a hand through her frazzled, limp curls and looked at her boyfriend, where he slept, face down, spread-eagle, the sheet half-dragged up his body. No. He wasn’t lazy. He was just… he didn’t take care of himself. It was almost a holdover from those Hydra assholes, that he didn’t think he was worth taking care of. Hence the sheet being the only thing keeping his naked body from freezing in his apartment as snow fell in Brooklyn outside, and the blankets that were still in the dryer and hadn’t seemed to make it back to the bed.

With a sigh, Darcy slipped out of the bedroom and gathered the thick, soft fleecy blanket that she’d gotten him for his birthday, enjoying the heat that still radiated off of it from the dryer. She’d get him wrapped up so he could sleep, properly this time, and fight the good fight tomorrow again.

“Gonna wear yourself right into the ground if you don’t be careful, Barnes,” she murmured under her breath.”

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10743291


the last lady who cut my hair was a real asshole and I don’t think it registered to me at the time just how much of an asshole she was because I was excited for a trim… when I sat down she said “so what are we going to do with… this interesting haircut” and wrinkled up her face, so I told her “oh it’s just so messy because it grew out from a buzzcut” and she gasped and went “buzzcut! why did you do THAT?” then when I told her I really didn’t need my cut to look ‘feminine’ in any way she spent 5 minutes trying to tell me that I really “do look feminine though, don’t worry” despite me asking her to please not. she took on a really condescending tone when I finally got direct and told her “I’d prefer it not to be feminine actually”. she also found one derma affected patch on my scalp that wasn’t even that bad and proceeded to loudly “diagnose” me with psoriasis until I told her 3 times that it isn’t that and it was really humiliating. she cut my hair well though so uh.

anonymous asked:

That poster with the anti-porn question should know I felt the same way as her, but I didn't realize what kind of porn was normal now. I was naive. I was in some anime related tag and something came up also tagged with #painal. It's as bad as you are probably assume. I cried a lot after thinking about that woman's face and how men exist who are turned on by what happened to her. I don't care if "men like it". It's wrong. Porn is absolutely wrong.

Absolutely. The porn of today is vastly different from what used to exist. There’s nothing inherently wrong with nude photos and maybe occasionally watching videos of normal looking people having mutually pleasurable sex. We’re not living in the age of Playboy, we’re living in the age of Internet porn.

Probably the biggest reason for this escalation is the Internet. In the past, you had to pay for porn, either buying magazines at stores or through a mail subscription, or buying or renting video tapes from adult movie stores. If you wanted to see new porn every day, that was expensive and took effort. 

Today, anyone with high speed Internet, including children, have basically unlimited access to free porn. The effect of this unlimited access is that people end up becoming bored with the normal stuff and look at more and more extreme, violent porn. This is basic neuroscience; the stimulus releases dopamine, so the individual does it more and more to get that dopamine rush, but it becomes less effective every time, so they seek a more extreme stimulus. 

And when that dopamine rush becomes associated with images of women being degraded and abused, we can all see where that’s going.

anonymous asked:

omg tay, dont you ever watch bare bears and think that they totally look like maknae line? panda is jimin since he's cute and has a high pitched voice, grizzly is tae because grizzly is super crazy and funny and then there's jungkook who looks like ice bear because he has a poker face the entire time! i just cant watch that show without thinking that they are the maknaes

lol i haven’t watched care bears since i was like idek how old honestly. i can’t even remember ahaa

edit: oh fuck you’re talking about that show on cartoon network lmao. ooooh okay makes more since lol. i’ve seen the show a few times but idk the characters personalities more than just passively. i seriously thought u just misspelled care bears LMAO

phoebemaybe  asked:

Hello! What do you of Bleyton/Paine?

Hi! I kinda love them, which is one of the reasons why I followed you back: it’s so awesome and rare to come across a fellow Peyton/Blaine shipper! I’ve only seen the first two seasons, though, and am trying to avoid S3 spoilers until I catch up. If you check out the AO3 link on my sidebar, I started a hiatus fic for them; the next chapter will go up once my Camp Nanowrimo madness ends. :)

My more specific thoughts: I adore him, he was a very upfront villain who didn’t fancy himself any better than his actions, and she came back to face her fears and rejoin her family…and I honestly think that when they first met and he didn’t know her connection to Liv, he just enjoyed her, and enjoyed being human again, and got blamed for way more scheming than he actually intended. Amnesia!Blaine gives me all the feelings and I look forward to finding out how much of his past Peyton feels she can justify holding against him when he isn’t who he was because he doesn’t know who he is. Plus the rescue! :D

anonymous asked:

You know after the finale I wonder if Thomas having the chance would have joined the Flint's cause Unfortunately we will never know what he would say, but I'm sure Flint would discuss it with him as true partners. What do you think?

Honestly, it’s hard to say, but given what Thomas has been through - at the very least being separated from his wife and his lover, being dragged out of his own home and flung into Bedlam, and then being taken from there to be imprisoned on a farm for the past God alone knows how many years - I’d say there’s a decent chance that Thomas might not be one hundred percent for the rule of civilization at this point. I think the look on his face when he sees James says a lot - he looks as though he’s afraid he’s hallucinating things at first, as if he can’t believe his eyes, and for a man who used to be so confident in himself, that says a lot. I don’t know if I can picture him picking up a weapon and fighting, but it’s not out of the question - people change in the space of ten years, after all. I could picture him being firmly behind James’ war to abolish slavery, though - again, given what Thomas has been subjected to, it makes perfect sense, and he’d be able to help with logistics at the very least and talking around supporters such as Joseph Guthrie.

@cherik-is-really-gay You are such a sweetie and thank you for the prompt!

~

“What. Is. That.”

Charles smiled nervously as his best friend glared furiously at his face. “Um… fell down the stairs?” he offered, wincing as Erik’s lips peeled back in a snarl, showing quite a few of his shark-sharp teeth.

“No. Someone did that to you.” He grabbed Charles’ shirt with one hand and yanked him closer, inspecting the edges of Charles’ black eye with gentle fingers. Charles blushed a little, but did not squirm or flinch. Erik wouldn’t hurt him. Erik would never even think of causing him discomfort, let alone pain.

But from the look on his face, he was thinking of causing pain to others.

“I didn’t see them,” Charles lied with a sigh. “They just… hit me and ran.”

“Liar. Who did this? I’ll break their hands. I’ll tear the iron from their blood. I’ll–”

“Erik, stop.”

Erik stopped talking, but Charles could certainly still hear him thinking. He usually tuned out the thoughts of his classmates (teenagers were such predictably disgusting people), but he’d never been able to fully tune out Erik. That was alright, though, seeing as he was utterly infatuated with him and didn’t really want to tune him out. 

Charles took a breath and said firmly, “It doesn’t matter. Come on, we’ll be late for class.”

~

Charles might have thought it unimportant, but Erik did not.

He knew Charles liked him. Well, he liked Charles. And if anyone had a problem with that, they could take it up with Erik, who could at least hit back.

He watched sharply for reactions to Charles’ poor eye. Most were surprised, pitying, sympathetic; but there was a group of jocks who snickered behind their hands, until they saw Erik staring at them, unblinking. Then they began to look nervous. Erik smiled cruelly.

He’d found his prey.

~

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Erik shrugged and slung his arm around Charles’ shoulders. “But I wanted to.”

Charles glanced back, seeing the pitiful pile that was the five bullies who’d tried to take Charles. Of course Erik had leapt out of a tree to land on the biggest bully’s back, driving him to the ground. Of course Erik had lashed out and given another bully a shiner to match Charles’. Of course he’d beaten up the bullies, and now he was walking Charles home.

“Charles. Read my mind.”

“What?” Charles asked blankly, looking up at Erik, who smiled, the soft, non-sharky smile he gave only to Charles.

“Read my mind.”

“Erik, I don’t think–”

“Please.”

He could never resist when Erik said please. He sighed and opened his mind to Erik’s.

kisshimkisshimkisshimnotyetnotyetnotyetkisshimnotyetlethimreadfirst

“Oh,” Charles whispered.

Erik grinned. “So. Can I?”

“Yes.”

~

Caleb groaned and stirred, his head and back aching. He looked up just in time to see Erik nearly pick Charles up and kiss him fiercely. And Charles kissed back.

Caleb let his head drop to the ground, scowling. Now he’d never get Erik. Fucking Charles.

Piss off, dumbass, Charles’ crisp voice said in his head, and then everything went dark again.

anonymous asked:

Hi, previous anon. Eliot=hurt Quentin=the comforter, Thanks so much if you can do this!

Alright, here we go.

Margo comes to him one night, terrified and not at all herself. She doesn’t even say anything, completely ignores Alice, who is sitting with him. She just grabs his arm by the wrist, and drags him up the stairs and to Eliot’s room. He looks at her, confused, as she stares at the closed door. “Talk to him,” She whispers, “I can’t get through.” 

“But you’re his best friend.” 

She gives him a face, “We both know he and I don’t talk, you can stop pretending you think we do. He’ll talk to you. He won’t talk to me. Not about this.” 

“What is it?”

She frowns. “Do you seriously not know?” 

“Know what? Please stop being vague.” 

She sighs, running a hand messily through her hair. “He killed Mike.” 

He doesn’t wait for her to say anything else before he turns around and pushes open Eliot’s bedroom door. “El?” He asks, soft, as he moves into the room and closes the door behind him. 

Eliot’s sitting on the floor by his bed, knees pushed up against his chest, with two empty bottles of whiskey lying on the ground beside him. He barely turns hi head to acknowledge Quentin, but he holds up the half full bottle in his hand. “Come to join me?” He asks, but his voice is hollow, hoarse, and lacking the usual bite that comes with nearly everything he says.

Quentin shakes his head, moving until he’s sitting across from him, back up against the wall, with the window sill digging into the nap of his neck. “I heard what happened.” 

Eliot shrugs one shoulder, taking a big swig of the whiskey. “Not a big deal,” he says, but he’s looking everyere except at Quentin, which is unbearably unlike him. 

“That’s not true,” Quentin says, scooting closer to him, one hand reaching out and grabbing at Eliot’s ankle, looping his fingers around it. “Remember? I know it’s not the first time you’ve killed someone,” Eliot flinches, lifting the bottle to his lips again, and Quentin brushes his thumb over the front of his ankle. “I know you’re hurting, El. You can talk to me about this.” 

Eliot swallowed the whiskey and leveled him with a glare. “What if I don’t want to talk? Can’t I just sit here in peace without you trying to fucking force some weak, pathetic Quentin-esque feelings on me?” He sneers, fist tightening around the bottle of the whiskey so tight his knuckles are turning white. “Not everyones as broken as you Quentin. The sooner you realize that, the better all of us will feel. You’re not as entertaining to keep around when you’re this pathetic.” 

The comment hurt, but Quentin brushed it off, because Eliot’s all bite and no bark, and right now, Eliot was going to say anything to get people to leave him alone - to keep from having to talk about his feelings.

Quentin wasn’t going to let him push him away, though.

“You don’t mean that,” He murmurs, scooting ever closer, “And even if you do, I don’t care.” 

Something flashes behind Eliot’s eyes, but he lifts the bottle to his lips again. Quentin reaches forward and stops him before he can pour any into his mouth, carefully unravels Eliot’s fingers from around the bottle and sets it just out of his reach. “You’re not okay,” Quentin says, getting up on his knees and pulling him up against his chest. 

He resists for a moment, before his breath hitches and his arms wind around Quentin’s back. His hands laces together at the base of Quentin’s back, and his face presses flush up against his chest. He breathes in, out, in, out for a few long moments, until the breaths start coming quicker, and Quentin can feel something wet seeping through his shirt.

He places one hand at the nape of Eliot’s neck and runs the other through his hair. “Shh,” He whispers, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of his, “You’re going to be okay. Everything’s going to be okay, Eliot. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Eliot doesn’t say anything, just tightens his grip around him.

They sit there until Eliot cries himself to sleep. 

anonymous asked:

Could you do Luke for the drabble with When did you plan on telling me about this? Thanks!

Characters: Reader x Luke Skywalker + Obi-Wan “Ben” Kenobi.

Warnings: none I think?

Prompts: 89: “And when did you plan on telling me about this?”

Word Count: 323

A/N: first Luke drabble requested this round I think !!

Want to request a drabble? Read this post [x]


You wiped down the bar and looked up, and grinned when you saw Luke walk in with an elderly man. Luke’s face lit up when he saw you, and said something to the man before walking over to you.

“Hey, y/n.” he greeted you, and you leaned forward on your elbows. 

“You don’t usually come at this time.” you raised an eyebrow, and Luke shrugged. “Who’s the guy you came with?

“Uh…” Luke faltered, not knowing if he should tell you. You worked at this bar, and you were close friends; you told each other everything. Except one thing: Luke also had a major crush on you.

“Hello?” you teased, snapping your fingers at him. Luke blinked at you, giving a sheepish smile. 

“A-a friend of my uncle’s.” he finally responded vaguely. You raised your eyebrows, knowing he wasn’t telling the whole truth. “Oh alright, but promise not to tell.”

You jokingly pressed your fingers to your lips and leaned closer for him to whisper in your ear. 

“His name is Ben, and he’s a Jedi. He’s going to teach me to become a Jedi.” Luke whispered hurriedly, and you jerked back.

What?!” you exclaimed, then clamped a hand over your mouth. You hissed, “And when did you plan on telling me about this?”

“I’m sorry.” Luke blabbered. “I don’t know. I don’t want to leave you, but-”

“What’s going on here?” Ben suddenly approached, and Luke looked between you. “Who are you leaving?” 

“This is y/n, my friend.” Luke introduced you. Ben looked you up and down, and you shyly looked at the floor. 

“Are you sure you’re just friends, Luke?” Ben asked, and Luke blushed as you looked at him, confused.

“What’s he on about, Luke?” you asked, and Luke nervously ran his hands through his hair.

“Oh man,” he muttered as he glared at Ben, who was already walking away. “There’s more I need to tell you…”

Drabble: Springtime

It was a beautiful morning of spring, and a soft breeze was blowing. The flowers were in full blossom, casting a sweet fragrance in the morning airs. The trees were tall and full of green leaves, illuminated by the bright sunlight. People were walking up and down the streets of Dor-lomin, enjoying the arrival of spring. Huor looked at their faces, noticing how calm and happy they were.

He was also feeling calm, having forgotten about war. He only wanted to admire the beauty of nature during spring. He wanted to forget for once that he was a warrior who had fought in many battles. He started walking with swift steps until he reached Nen Lalaith. He loved this river because its voice sounded like laughter. His niece used to play by this river but he was not emotionally ready to think about her death.

He shook his head, trying to think of something positive. He looked at the blossoming flowers, smelling their sweet fragrance. Their scent helped him calm down, and he smiled. The sun shove ober his golden hair, reflecting on the river’s crystal clear waters. It was a wonderful day, and Huor felt happy after a long time.

The Fight and the Secret - Lucaya AU

A/N: Guess who’s back, back again! Dude, I am so in love with this, and I am again crying, omg. Tell me what you think? Hope you enjoy xo

Maya sat, her blonde hair making a curtain around her pale face, the faint redness tinged around her eyes, wishing she could just disappear.

Lucas Friar sat stony faced on the chair, as far away from Maya as he could get. Every time he looked at her, he felt his whole face twist in dark and suppressed rage, but he couldn’t blow up now. Not in front of everyone.

Maya risked a glance at him, and immediately wished she hadn’t. His eyes flashed as she made contact with them, and she winced, turning away again.  

Farkle and Riley sat together on the couch, Smackle and Zay on the floor, all talking animatedly, not noticing the icy silence between the two, and Maya was three seconds away from just getting up and leaving to put distance from herself and Lucas when Farkle and Riley stood, Smackle and Zay following suite.

“We’d better go. Movies.” Farkle acknowledged Maya, and she felt her blood turn ice cold, and pressed her hands to her sides to stop them from shaking. She nodded once in his direction, and felt her lips slide into a barely there smile towards Riley, and then they were all four gone out the door, leaving her with Lucas.

His laugh was dark. “Well, go ahead. Explain away. You’re good at that.”

Maya’s face reddened, and she glanced around the deserted shop, biting her lip. She looked back at him, and her eyebrows narrowed.

“It wasn’t what you thought it was, Lucas.”

Lucas snorted. “Yeah, you pressed up against Joshua Matthews kissing him like he was the only thing in the world, obviously nothing.”

Maya felt tears prick the backs of her eyes. “No, it wasn’t! Lucas, he came onto me- he threatened me-

Lucas stood suddenly, spitting the words at her. “Don’t lie! I saw you, kissing him, his hands all over you-“

Maya stood too as he stormed towards her. “Lucas-“

“Oh, first name basis again? Is that what this is?” He laughed again, a horrible, harsh sound that sounded nothing like him at all, and it scared Maya.

“Lucas, please, this isn’t you! I don’t need Texas Lucas, don’t become him again!” Maya exclaimed loudly, and he shoved her, making her hit the wall with a bang.

“You know nothing about me!” He shouted. “You don’t know anything about what I am, or who I’m like, so don’t fucking act like you do!”

Before she knew what she was doing, Maya shoved down her sleeves and held up her arms, tears pooling in her eyes as his own scanned them.

“This is what he did to me. And if you think, for one second, I would have been okay with this, you are sadly mistaken Lucas Friar.” She snarled, and then yanked up her shirt to reveal even more bruises, purple and blue, blending in.

Lucas pulled away from her, his eyes moving from each bruise to the next, not comprehending what he was seeing, and then Maya pulled her shirt and sleeves back down.

“Do you believe me now, or do I not know you enough to know what you do or don’t choose to believe?” Maya’s voice trembled; an angry, solitary tear making it’s way down her face.

“How long?” Lucas breathed, the images of the bruises all over his Blonde Beauty’s body seeming permanently burned into his mind.

“Two months.” Maya said in a faint whisper, and in an instant Lucas’s arms were around her, crushing her too him.

“Maya…I’m so sorry.” He said into her hair, and she swallowed, squeezing him tightly back. “I know, Huckleberry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Maya, why didn’t you come to me?” Lucas asked, his hands cupped gently around her face.

“Josh told me not too. He said he’d hurt you.” The words shook coming from Maya’s mouth, and Lucas smiled faintly.

“He would have to kill me if he wanted you.”

Maya’s laugh was shaky, and he gently, slowly, kissed her.

idk man the thing that sucks about not being really pretty is that no matter what you tell yourself and what your friends might say, you sort of always know that you’re just not. and i’m not talking about being stubborn and fishing for compliments, it’s just knowing that you’re not conventionally attractive, that people on the street won’t double-take when you pass by them, that people won’t be flustered trying to talk to you. and i know looks aren’t everything but damn it sure feels like it when you aren’t absolutely gorgeous