why is her face like that

prompt: ssmonth day 23, it was always you.

summary: innumerable heart of the wind / fluttering over our silence of love.   -pablo neruda

note: i missed writing for you all. ssmonth is like christmas. ❀

she’s different now, and he can’t help noticing. were he less prudent, he might have asked the dobe just what it was that made her scurry off to work each time he came around, or why it was she could look him in his stupid face but never at sasuke. he wonders if he wears it on his face each time, the seed of disappointment that digs deeper and deeper into his gut. “she needs time,” kakashi spoke to him one day, his nose deep in the pages of his orange paperback, “give her that, she’ll come around.” this was a level of transparency sasuke would never get used to.

he isn’t certain just when he started keeping mental tabs of her weekly schedule, only that he made it a point to be at hokage tower in the early evenings on tuesdays and on thursday mornings, or near the hospital just about every other day. false coincidence was the name of the game. their encounters were as brief as a short walk down the street, or up the stairs; the leisure of conversation would occasionally bring a soft smile to her face. but something always turned sour, something silent and nagging within her eyes. gaze averted, she would excuse herself to her tasks. peace times were packed with daily tedious work; sasuke never could have imagined hating the sight of her walking away as much as he did now. he definitely never imagined going as far as asking naruto.

“does she hate me,” he spoke one day, a tone low enough that it hardly escaped the low hum of life on the street outside of ichiraku.

naruto set his bowl down mid-sip, and sasuke felt his gut seize up. it couldn’t be a great sign when the human ramen vacuum stopped eating.

the blonde scratched his head, pensively, “it’s definitely not that…” blue eyes grew more reluctant, his foot tapped nervously, “she says she’s just…not sure.”

not sure? sasuke wanted to say, about what? about me? about my character? about loving someone who has quite literally just hurt her over and over and-? sasuke composed himself, “she said that?”

naruto nodded, “i guess she just,” he shrugged, “doesn’t know what you want.” he was silent at this, feeling the tension collect in his shoulders, along with the ever-increasing sinking feeling he experienced when he tried to begin to fathom what he might say to her. 

“hn,” he finally responded, pushing his empty teacup away.

blue eyes turned to meet the side of sasuke’s impenetrable expression. “what exactly do you want, sasuke?”

sasuke put his half of the tab down and exited the stand.

it’s friday, roughly half an hour after her shift at the hospital has ended. he figures just a half hour off work, she’d be taking her time, ambling her way home at a calm pace. it was a nice night. there were three discernible routes from the hospital to her house. the road most traveled crossed through the akimichi bridge. she loves that stupid bridge, he notes, crossing through the various channels of the village, wondering all the while if he has his timing right. the red of the bridge comes into view as he crosses a corner, eyes searching wildly for any trace of pink in the falling night. there, he catches sight of her at just the other end of the bridge, crossing leg after leg down the lane, face upturned to the stars. he wants to stay there, in the shadows, witnessing the small joy of her walking home on a clear spring evening.

just her, and a stupid bridge, and the stars.

he can’t help himself as his feet start carrying him across the bridge, or his voice as it rises up to meet her, “sakura.”

and he can’t help the way his mouth goes dry and every salient thought shoots directly out of his mind as she looks at him with those damned eyes. he wants to tell her just how suffocating it is when she looks at him like that. 

she doesn’t open her mouth to speak, but she looks at him, and for a moment, he wonders just how much she knows.

“i don’t know why it is things aren’t normal for us,” his voice is even, if only a little too low, “and i don’t know why it seems like neither of us can say something-” he stops. her eyes are steady on his own, he finally notices, unblinking, sincere. suffocating.

“you’re looking at me,” he says.

“you’re looking at me,” she somewhat shrugs, her voice low.

“you never look at me.” anymore. he doesn’t mean to be confrontational, but his eyes do not waver. 

green eyes grow deeper in their dolefulness, “i don’t always know that i can.”

this, he tries to breathe, i didn’t account for this. suddenly, every memory comes rushing into him, a life of regrets he can’t swallow and words, actions, he can’t right. pink hair flying into the open air, lost; emerald eyes searching for goodness where it does not live. please, sasuke-kun. he feels for a moment he might just blow away, ashes into the wind, just scattered. her eyes are so clear even in the dark; he knows he’s been here before. all those years ago, looking at her just as he is now—it’s been so long, and she’s finally here.

“sakura,” he speaks her name, hoping she can feel for a moment just how good it is to say it. she looks like she’s preparing, her eyes are dry, bracing for the force.

“i’m going to kiss you,” he says, taking steps toward her, “if you don’t want that, that’s okay. but i’m going to, if you let me.”

her face is composed and beautiful in the moonlight, a graceful yet indiscernible pain growing in her expression as he draws closer. prudently, he reaches his hand up to move the hair from her face. his breath hitches in his throat as she closes her eyes, allowing him to sweep his thumb down the length of her jaw. something stirs in her expression, softening slowly.

he places a kiss on her lips, soft and grateful.

holding her face in his hand as he pulls back, he speaks, “i can’t stay here.”

she opens her eyes at his words, the pain in her face deepens in the slightest, but she does not look away.

“but please let me know i can keep coming back.” to you.

thought consumes her expression as she looks at him now, as she reaches up to touch him. he relaxes beneath the graze of her lithe fingers on his face, wondering absently if he would ever wish to feel this again should she reject him. nothing feels like this, he knows. no one is like her.

“as long as you keep coming back,” she speaks in a voice even and assuring, hands clearing the hair from his eye-line. her gaze is strong, holding his own, keeping him on the ground.

sasuke wishes to stay here forever, breathing her in, frozen in this night.

“Sabrina agrees with almost everything Chloe does and likes doing what she says and helping her. she’s just as bad as Chloe and never getting blamed for her part.”

oh right

Because Sabrina just loves doing Chloe’s homework.

It’s not like she’s afraid to lose her only friend.

and she can tell Chloe everything she thinks without being afraid of her reaction.

In the rare times Chloe does something that really bothers her, she always lets her know how she feels.

She wants to play unfair just like Chloe

and never faces the consequences

and get none of the blame.

That’s why she likes to be Chloe’s friend. She just likes to be invesible in the eyes of others so no one can blame her for her actions.

anonymous asked:


  • 140. Biggest turn ons and turn on offs.

Okay let me think 

My BiggestTurn Ons

- cute face

- likes nerdy stuff (comics, video games, anime, cartoons, star wars etc stuff like that)

- Good sense of humor

- likes working out/exercise/fitness stuff

- likes DBZ (instant +5 to attraction to me tbh)

- showing their passions in what they love

- Genuine Kindness

-Nice Boobs & Butt (well you asked)

- intelligence

- Strong/willed ( I love a strong woman who can be her own hero I think thats why I know so many female martial artists who kickass)

-Open minded 


Originally posted by dcgod

My Biggest Turn Offs 

- bitchy attitude

- Narcissistic or thinking they’re better than others

- Making fun of others appearances (I’ll call any motherfucker out in a heartbeat for doing that)

- Heavy heavy makeup and lipstick but i mentioned that here 

- Overly Clingy 

- smoking

- Pessimistic 

- easily triggered and go off on this since something like there are somethings I completely understand being triggered over but sometimes its just being a stick in the mud when you know the person doesn’t genuinely think that they were just having fun. like for example I just saw an hour ago  there was this post on facebook someone made about a mother accidently cooking brownies with breast milk and someone made a light joke not taking it seriously and they replied with an essay of why its not funny and blah blah and the dude was just making a quick joke not serious and I get if someone has personal issues they have to deal with daily but don’t take your own issues out on someone else

But those are my turn ons and off tbh

anonymous asked:

The way Dinah glances at LAN when they answer the question kinda telling that she's not happy with it. Their "'we're happy" answer sounds arrogant to me. Sure Jan...

I don’t think it was arrogant but just a rehearsed way to avoid answering the Camila subject - Dinah is the one who’s basically blowing their cover with her face - she clearly didn’t feel like pretending at that moment but she did it on other occasions. They’re still going to promote the OT4 sunny happy image, especially now that the album is about to drop - they also need to avoid any big drama now which is why they didn’t even mention Camila - the spotlight is gonna be on them during promotion and they need to keep it neutral. 

Before I begin Gemsona Week I should probably introduce you to Rhodochrosite! She’s the lazy, goofy fourth wall breaking dork! Her favourite things to do are sleep, and eat and tell jokes, much like Amethyst. This one in particular is a rough cut, so she is taller and a lot more unruly than her counterparts but, since her kind is accepting and aren’t to judge, they love her as she is. Her weapon of choice is a rope for a lasso, for tripping people up, making traps and nets but most importantly she can make a hammock to sleep on. She fears very little hence her chilled, happy demeanour because her eyes are closed constantly due to the big goofy grin on her face. ‘Why should I be scared if I can’t see how scary it is, dude?’

Last Dream

pairing: Harald x OFC

fandom: Vikings

@nekodemon73 @kumpmk @bookswillfindyouaway @mads—world @sugakookiexx 

The forest had gotten dark as rain was pouring down on them, painting the sky a grey colour. Wind rustled in the trees, bending them to its will until it looked like they were about to snap in half. 
They got rid of the remaining soldiers and villagers alike as they made their way through. 
Harald calls out to his brother just before he brings down his sword to end the half-conscious girl sitting on the ground. Blood was streaming down on one side of her face and she looked like she was barely able to keep her eyes open. 
She crawled back on her knees, looked up at them but couldn’t quite focus her view. 
“What is it brother?” Halfdans asks, impatient to move on and get to a place where they could set up their camp. 
“Take her with us.” 
“Why?” He asks amused, “Don’t we have enough slaves already?” 
Halfdan doesn’t wait for an answer and instead grabs the girl to throw her over his shoulder. She struggles for a moment before her eyes close and arms go limp. 

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I HAVE A WRITING REQUEST: Lance wakes up late at night and walks over to the kitchen to get a late night snack. Pidge happens to be there at the table holding a personal photograph/writing a letter or something like that. One casual conversation leads to a pretty deep and emotional talk; bonding about missing their families and domestic lives. Hope that's okay for you to do!

“Why are you here?” Pidge asks. The time is nearly two am, from what Pidge can remember, and all she sees is the blue paladin sluggishly drag his feet into the common area. 

His eyes widen in obvious surprise when he realizes that the younger girl is sitting there, clenching a small photograph in her hands and hiding it from his line of sight. His face relaxes, and lights up with a tired smile. “I couldn’t sleep, so Hunk got me some kind of alien tea to help me knock out.” 

Normally, the blue paladin was the heaviest sleeper of the 7 humanoid figures on the ship. Pidge isn’t sure if Allura and Coran actually sleep, but she knows that they both rest their eyes for a few moments while standing up and she didn’t really wanna question Altean sleeping methods. The news of him not being able to sleep sets off something in Pidge, similar to alarm but not quite worry. “Do you want to sit down beside me?” She asks, voice meek. 

She looks at Lance and remembers the way she treated him back at the Garrison. It wasn’t the nicest, but it certainly wasn’t the meanest either. The cargo-pilot-turned-fighter-pilot ended up getting a lot of backlash from teacher and students alike. But she was a part of his team, his group. He and Hunk were as thick as thieves, and always tried to include Pidge in their endeavors. 

She avoided them though, because she was too focused on finding her family. That, she didn’t regret. But maybe she should’ve at least treated Lance a little better than those other people who treated him like he wasn’t worth their time. At the moment, he wasn’t worth her time. 

But now… 

“Are you sure?” Lance asks, opening a cabinet and bringing a small container down from the shelves. Pidge knows that even if she tried, that she could never reach it unless she used the counter tops. “Do you want some too?”

Pidge considers it, thinks about her family, about Voltron, and how little sleep she’s been getting on trying to navigate through both and her own issues and homesickness. “Thanks.” She says, and Lance brings down two cups. “Why couldn’t you sleep?” She asks him, when he settles some water in a container and sets a timer.  

When did he figure that out? Pidge wonders. Even she didn’t know how to work the electric kettle-like machine. “Just some of the usual stuff. Sometimes I meet Shiro here, maybe Keith in the blue moon, but you? What’s up with you, Pidgey?”

She smiles at the Pokemon term. “Just thinking of some stuff, I was thinking of grabbing a bite to eat but I don’t exactly feel in the mood for space goo right now.” 

“I’m never in the mood for it.” Lance’s energy is still boundless, Pidge can feel it radiate off him in waves, but he keeps it contained when it’s just the two of them, sitting there in the low lighting of the kitchen. “What’s that picture in your hand? If it’s not too personal.” 

“It’s not- I mean, it is, but it’s just another picture with Matt and my parents.” Pidge speaks, letting go of the picture and seeing the creases she made with the tight grip. “I was just thinking about them, right now. How they might be feeling and how Matt and my dad might be somewhere in the universe and still out of our reach- even with the greatest mecha to ever live.” Her brain thinks of Matt and her dad suffering in the arena with Shiro. She thinks of her dad being experimented on, aliens using his genius brain to build some new power that will definitely work. 

She thinks of her mom, who’s alone on Earth and thinking about how three of her family members have disappeared. “I miss them.” 

“I miss my family too.” Lance says, and he’s setting down the two steaming cups with steeping tea. “I have dreams about them, about me being too late to get home and years past. Nightmares that they’d be long dead before I could even land on the Earth. I didn’t get to leave without a goodbye.” He blows on the top of the tea, and the steam floats to Pidge’s direction. 

She imitates him. “Why did you not try to escape, when I tried to?” She flushes when she remembers when she tried to escape. At the moment, the idea was good, but she realizes that she would’ve put the entire universe in danger for her family. 

She’d do it again in a heartbeat, but while their locations aren’t found, Pidge has no choice but to just suck it up and find them from the safety of the Castle of the Lions. “I wanted to, but I realized that if I left, my family, the blue sea that is my home, and everything else that I love would be subjected to extinction because of me.” His jaw clenches and he stares off into the distance, taking a small sip from his tea. “I couldn’t do that, not because I wanted to go back home when I was scared.” 

“I’m scared, Lance.” Pidge whispers, “I’m scared that we’ll die before we can find them, or that they’re already dead. Matt and I, before he left for the Garrison, would make jokes about him getting abducted by aliens. I guess we should’ve knocked on wood.” 

“My older sister would say the same thing.” Lance says, fondly. He still isn’t looking at Pidge, but she can see by the way his eyes glass over in memories that he’s still listening to her. “I’d joke that I’d find a nice alien to settle down with and have a family on Venus, so I could become one of the first humans to live on Venus.” She takes a sip of the tea, and tastes the familiar sweetness that reminds Pidge of honey. 

“My dad loves that short story.” Pidge giggles softly, remembering Matt’s indignant shriek about how Margot deserves better! 

“So does my older sister, but I find it too sad for my liking.”

“I wanted to fight the kids.” Pidge admits. “But my dad lectured me about it, and said I shouldn’t. I still don’t understand.”

“That’s because you’re still a kid.” Lance teases. Pidge can see the way the tension releases from his shoulder when he begins to tease her. “Just kidding, we can both fight those kids. Seven years old? Whatever! I can see fight them.” Pidge laughs, the tea taking effect quickly as she feels sluggish. 

“I’d fight Ray Bradbury any day of the week.” Pidge admits. “I didn’t like Fahrenheit 451.” 

“I haaaaaated reading that for English.” Lance bemoans. “God, I miss just complaining about school rather than complaining about the amount of broken bones I receive on a near daily basis.” Pidge looks at Lance, and sees the way scars little the tops of his shoulders from his broken arms, the healing pods doing it’s best but Lance’s skin still scarring over torn tissue. She admires Lance, honestly, because of the amount of times he gets knocked down. 

Because he always comes back up again, ready to fight with ten times the vigour. “I do too. I would help Matt with his English homework, but I wasn’t that good at it either.” 

“I’m the youngest, so I always got help.” Pidge is surprised at the news. “Oh, wait you’re the youngest too.” Lance laughs, and his voice is slurring slightly at the effects of the tea. “We’re buds, now.” 

Pidge thinks of how Lance acts, and how she acts, and the surprise that he was actually the youngest. “I miss being teased and teasing my family back.”

“I miss them.” Lance replies back, and Pidge can feel herself nodding. She’s, quite literally, nodding off now, as well. “Are you sleepy now?” Pidge’s small body sways and she feels Lance at her side and laughing softly. “Whoops, I guess I added a little too much for you.” Pidge can feel her body weight being adjusted as her eyes flutter shut. “Night, Pidgeon.” 

There’s a soft kiss to her forehead and Pidge dreams of when she was younger, and how her dad would do something similar after a night of nightmares. “Night.” She mumbles, and digs into the warmth of Lance’s body. She falls asleep to his laughs and feels herself encased in blankets the next morning, the picture of her family beside her pillow. 

anonymous asked:

what do you think lucifer looked like before his fall? is this body a vessel like mom?

no, i am 99.9% sure the writers confirmed that angels don’t have vessels. his body is his body - and so is amenadiel’s. and i think maze as well iirc.

he looked like what he looks like. i mean even the “devil” face still looks like him bone structure wise and stuff. 

sidebar: i have this emo headcanon that when chloe someday asks him why he took so long to show her his true face or w/e and after talking abt how he was worried of her reaction (bc by then they’ll be more open) he could be like “and this is my true face.” and i die lmfao

Wendip week: Meet the Parents

Wendy was nervous, shuffling around in the backseat. The car was relatively new and it felt like being in an airplane. That wasn’t why she was a little uneasy, though. Maybe those weren’t the right words…

She picked at the peeling outer shell of her suitcase, old from wear and tear. That’s probably how she could describe herself, really. Rough. Hand-me-down. Nothing in her family was very new, besides maybe the occasional axe or flannel shirt.

“How you doin’ back there?”

Her head shot up, to look in the very, VERY familiar face of Mr. Pines, who was in the passengers seat after switching with his wife at the airport. Something about him, she didn’t know exactly what it was, made her feel all bubbly inside.

“I’m cool!” She gave a little thumbs up, hopefully a convincing one, making skittish eye contact before looking back out the window. She hoped she wasn’t being rude…

He was just so familiar, and of course, she suspected part of it was because she knew his kids like the back of her hand. There was something else though, something she couldn’t quite place, and it was bringing up that feeling again.

“Good, we’re almost there, and I know how much the kids want to see you. You’re all they’ve been talking about.” Mrs. Pines spoke, in a soft kind of voice that reminded her of Dipper, and put her more at ease.

Wendy smiled, “Really? I thought they’d be busy with sports, and such. I heard Dipper made the track team?”

Mr. Pines, or Alex, as she’d heard his wife say, responded, “Yep! He’s his teams anchor for relays, and Mabel won a silver medal going all the way to state for her gymnastics team.”

There it was again, she felt her stomach flutter. I mean, it wasn’t like she had a crush on her best friends dad, right? I mean, he was nice looking, and Mrs. Pines was absolutely stunning, but he’s like, a billion years old. Ok, maybe that was an exaggeration, but still.

She decided it wasn’t a crush at all, but something like an epiphany, right on the tip of her tongue, if only it would hit her.

Her thoughts were interrupted again by Mr. Pines, “Home sweet home.”

They turned into a short driveway, pulling up to a two story suburban house, like many of the other houses beside it, and suddenly Wendy felt small. “It has a garage and everything…” she thought out loud. The house was a nice cream color, with pillars lining the porch out front, with a nicely polished wooden door. As she contemplated the type of wood, two happy looking tweens burst through the threshold, fighting to be the first one out. Mabel won by shoving Dipper’s head down, and Wendy smiled. “That’s my girl.”

“Seems like they’ve been expecting you.” Mrs. Pines said, with a tinge of laughter lining her voice that again reminded Wendy of the boy, now running past his sister, to meet them.

“If you don’t go out and meet them I’m afraid they might drag you out.”

Wendy opened the door once she had permission (even though she didn’t need it in the first place) and opened her arms up, “GUYS!”

“WENDY!” They both shouted, nearly knocking the girl over, but Corduroys are made of tougher stuff than most, that is until Mabel picked her up.

“Hoo-kay, Mabel,” Wendy choked, “can’t… breathe…”

“Alright, Punkin’ give her some air.” Mr. Pines said walking up to put his hands on Dipper’s shoulders-

Holy shit. It hit her.

Mr. Pines was Dipper. No wait, Dipper was Mr. Pines. Dipper was going to grow up TO BE Mr. Pines. Dipper was going to grow up.

Dipper was gonna to be kinda hot.

“Oh man,” she spoke aloud, quickly fixing herself, “…Oh, hey, man!”

They all walked in together, Mabel hanging off her side while Dipper told her about his latest adventures, and Wendy pushed back the thoughts as far as she could, for now.


Hope you guys liked it. I always thought Wendy would have this epiphany that Dipper wasn’t going to be a kid forever, and he was going to catch up to her eventually.

Also sorry about it being late, I’ve been pretty busy, but I hope you enjoy!

anonymous asked:


I’m terrible with angst but I hope this is okay! <3 <3

He tells himself to do something when Jumin first announces on the messenger he’s getting married. He tells himself that he’ll tell Jumin that the idea alone makes him feel sick, even though he doesn’t know why, when the date is set. He tells himself he’ll barge in that damn chapel and ruin his own career by screaming at Jumin he will never love her, she’s not right, she’s not him-

Zen never does. The card Yoosung asks him to sign to congratulate the newly wed couple feels like a searing poker to the gut, and the poor terrified blond actually runs away as he restrains himself from lashing out. It’s easy to face Yoosung and apologize. Facing Jumin becomes impossible.

The changes in Trust Fund are instant. He’s too quiet. He’s always logged in but he never says anything unless he has to. Not a word about Elizabeth for three days and Zen wonders if Sarah forced him to give the cat away. Why does that anger him? 

Jumin doesn’t retaliate when Zen throws out a scathing comment, or two, or a million. Wake up Jumin, Zen thinks, desperately typing an insult about his family, his wife, anything. The only response after his jabs skirt dangerously close to cruel is just stop, it’s fine like this, it’s better for everyone this way, he’ll get over it.

And Zen doesn’t understand, yet throws his phone against the wall, effectively shattering the screen. He wants to scream. He doesn’t.

The bar close to his theater becomes his new best friend. He doesn’t even know the bartender’s name, wouldn’t be able to recall the name of the bar if asked, but the beer is cheap and flows easily and Zen doesn’t care about anything anymore. He sits in a private corner all alone, angrily rejecting any flirts, and drinks until closing time, and after many tries he realizes it’s impossible to drown out the pain in his chest, but continues to do so anyway.

Over time, it becomes easier to hide his continuous drunken state to the theater director. In the chatroom it becomes more obvious. No one says anything.

One night a man approaches him and calls his name, quickly followed by the word idiot, when the room is already spinning. Zen knows he can easily ignore it, but the raging monster inside of him that he’s been trying to keep down for months finally sees an outlet, and he balls his fists with the full intention of beating this asshole to a bloody pulp.

When a very, very familiar face comes so close it’s no longer blurry, dark eyes full of concern and something he can’t recognize, Zen feels instantly sober.

“How long has she been this way?”
                                                         “At least a bell…”
Soft grumbling could be heard though for Amber it felt like miles away. Her body felt heavy, but why was it so heavy? Though she could not see her condition, the lanky Ejinn girl was with bruises and dried blood along her face and scales. Burns beneath the skin from being electrocuted more then once. Her pinkish skin paler then usual and her lips turning a dim shade of blue from lack of blood. 


Amber found herself sitting in a tent. The sound of the great stream near by, the sound of life around her as her tribe bustled to and fro doing work. In front of her sat herself. Or rather, her other half. Sea foam colored hair and sea green eyes with bright teal limbral rings were the only difference in the mirror that sat there. A scowl plastered on her face, her dress that of the tribe’s water dancers. A pair of swords laid next to her. 

“Your head is in the clouds again Amber…” her twin said with a annoyed tone. “This is why the wise ones haven’t made you a full fledged one, you have the skill but you are always in a day dream.”

“Sorry Lapis…” Amber’s eyes fell to the ground. Lapis licked her lips a moment, before sighing in turn. 

“I scold because I care, what if I die?” Lapis asked, furrowing her brow. “They’ll make you replace me if you haven’t made your purpose in the tribe.” 

“Well… best be sure you don’t die till then.” Amber glanced up a little, a small smile coming to her lips. Lapis as well smiled to her sunset colored sister. Lapis’s seafoam eyes looking to Amber’s golden ones. Her voice seeming not her own. 

                                                         “Don’t die…”

Her vision became blurry. Her home, her tribe. They all seemed to disappear like a wave. The world before amber now was too bright… too blurry. She could make out the faded appearance of Zasha and Lerran over her bedside. 

“She’ll be fine…” Lerran grumbled, crossing his arms. Zasha nodding a bit. “She lost a lot of blood though, so she’ll probably be in and out of it for a bit.”

‘Blood?’ she thought dully. Her body feeling heavy again, thoughts of early in the evening slowly ebbing back. The electricity of the mechanical beast, the lightning sprites around that grew agitated as well.

                            “It’d be better if you were six fulms under.”


                       “She killed Zasha’s brother, I’m allowed to be angry!”

Geovan’s face came before Amber as the world faded back to black. Her hands holding her sister’s swords as they pierced straight through him. Zasha’s anguished cries echoing in the back of her mind. Others gasping. Geovan’s crimson eyes looking at Amber through the wood wailer mask she wore to conceal her identity. Blood dribbling down his chin as his hands weakly came up to the blades. 

“Amber…” his voice wasn’t his. His image changing and turning. The blackness changed to the cold wastelands she considered Coerthas to be. The red crystals of the Boulder Downs glowing bright. 

She felt hot tears sting against her cold cheeks. A garlean in the distance with white armor in the distance, the feeling of burning under her skin as the nanomites in her drove the swords deeper. Nasan now replaced Geovan.

Her hair she had glamoured to be colored like her sister’s wipped in the wind, her golden eyes she couldn’t glamor staring deep into Nasan’s eyes. She felt the world falling. She didn’t want this. 

                                       “It’s going to be okay.”

Nasan’s voice spoke, before the world went black again. She couldn’t see, her body feeling its heavy weight on it again. She heard someone talking to her though, and felt something cool and wet run against her skin gently. 

“You’re going to be okay Amber…” his voice said softly. Concern deeply embedded to it. She felt her face relax to his voice, her sore muscles relaxing to the feel of water on her skin. As she felt a hand touch her hair, the world faded away once again to nothing.

she pranked her boyfriend into thinking she broke his favorite camera and his reaction was so sweet

i really want someone to write a taekook version of this,,, i mean

just imagine jungkook laughing and kissing tae all over his face cause jk thinks he is really crying bc of the camera

- “baby, why are you crying? it’s just a camera. i didn’t even like it that much.’’ 

i saw this video on twitter and this is their youtube channel ^~^


Ven… He was here…

Personal headcanon for the Taaco twins in order to justify my over-blingification of their designs:

When you’re poor, one-meal-per-day-poor, at-least-we-have-a-roof-over-our-heads poor, everything that shines is gold to you. You want this uselessly complicated “exotic fruit, emerald flower, ivory soft” soap; you want the perfume in a shiny golden box that leaves glitter on your fingers; you want that too-rich food that swears it contains two dozen different types of carrot and has too much cream; and you absolutely don’t care if it’s tacky or unhealthy or actually cheap. You want what you imagine luxury is, and luxury is to have Everything.

The bigger the better. No time for subtlety. No time for refined shit. You want to swallow everything you can because you never have anything anyway – let me have this, let me have this.

Lup steals her first dress in a thrift shop: it’s covered in thirty different patterns, overly-saturated, obviously made in bad quality fabric, with too much ruffles and poorly painted wooden pearls and plastic sequins and loose golden threads. It’s the ugliest piece of shit, but it’s a lot, it looks like a lot. She wears it until she can’t anymore, and even then, she still keeps it because hey, who knows, maybe someday she’ll make a new dress out of it? You have to keep these things, they might get useful again someday. She says that of all the clothes she owns and never throws anything away. “You never know”, she says. You never know.

Taako loves these super cheap, way too bright to be true jewels you can buy dozens of at the local market: he pierces his ears himself, in dozens of places, just so he can wear more of these pseudo-gold plated hipster earrings with suns and stars and intricate patterns that leave green stuff on his skin and cause the holes to bleed and leak pus two times out of three. He still wears them, and still loves them. Who cares if it’s not an actual diamond? A shard of glass shines just as bright, with colourful tiny patches of light that dance on the palm of his hand whenever he holds it in front of a candle. Plus, it’s not like he could ever get an actual fucking diamond, so.


The trick is not not-to-be-poor, but to look like you’re not.

(The first time Barry buys Lup an actual good dress, something made of silk, maybe, or comfortable velvet, something colourful and shiny but something nice, she straight-up refuses to wear it. It’s too much, too real. How much money did he put in this? Why didn’t he save it in case something happens? She just can’t have that. They argue until Lup can’t even find words to put on the gut-wrenching feeling she has and bites her lips until she tastes blood, incredibly frustrated and angry and afraid, so afraid, of this fucking real nice dress.)

(Kravitz looks nice, pretty boneboy, handsome faced reaper man, and like, Taako knew this, Kravitz’s a man with style – so he eyes his jewellery at the Chug N Squeeze, and sure, he’s not wearing much: two small earrings, a couple of bracelets, a broche with his goddess’ insignia on it. It’s a small round crow with a bright orange eye. It catches the light in a way Taako’s jewels don’t, and suddenly, something nasty turns his blood to ice when he realises it’s because it’s an actual fucking gem – and the rest is too solid and heavy to be gold-plated.

Kravitz is wearing solid gold jewellery, and for the first time in forever, Taako, bright, loud, pseudo-fashionable Taako feels cheap.)

They never argue when people call them too-much, greedy, shallow. They don’t care. All they have are rhinestone bracelets, fake crystal stones, glittery nail polish, colours and cheap glamour: they’re the king and queen of fake it ‘til you make it, so they just. Don’t. Fucking. Care.

Some Cinder in her coronation dress cause I’ve never tried drawing her, and it was so fun honestly!

I’m also addicted to saturated colors so let’s all have in count that the dress is actually silver and it looks purple cause I like messing around lol.

“Isn’t death supposed to be a wonderful adventure as well?”

“I think so.”

episode 78 (38:22-41:40)