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JuminZen Week - Day 6: Cherry Blossoms Festival // Food

Did I choose this prompt just to show off my vacation photos of cherry blossoms from my trip to Korea two years ago? YOU BET. Also, they’re eating ddeokbokki coz it was EVERYWHERE when I went to Korea.

Looks like a cinnamon roll but could actually kill you:
Nathaniel

Looks like could kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll:
Kentin

Looks like a cinnamon roll and actually is a cinnamon roll:
Lysander

Looks like could kill you and could actually kill you:
Castiel

Sinnamon roll:
Armin

bye idk why the absolutely fully capable mark lee has me so shook, but he’s finished going through that awkward stage of puberty, and yall he’s really outchea in these streets like wow. not only is he a talented, humble, and genuinely nice person to literally everyone like idk know of anyone who doesn’t like him, but the Lord really spent extra time on him. someone pls collect him bc i don’t think my heart can handle it anymore.

Imagine smiling to yourself at the sight of Woozi eating his meals well.

Lost in Silence

AN: Here is the first part of my first Phantom Fic. I am warning you now, I have not written fanfiction in years, so I have no idea how this will go. I hope you enjoy. Also, I (unfortunately) do not own The Phantom of the Opera. 

 

Summary: Silence is a curse to those who long for sound. A sweet voice in the darkness may save them. Or it may be crushed forever. (modern!AU, magic, future EC)

 

———————————————————————————————————————

Rows of crimson red lined the black aisles to the stage. The velveteen cushions of the theater were covered in dust and darkness, some chewed through by mice, others molded away by time. The room smelled of rust and mildew, and the crystal chandelier hung on the precipice of falling, its chain links worn and weak, while the moonlight reflected off its broken baubles as they swung about in the breeze. Water leaked through the gaping hole in the roof, dripping in puddles onto the rotten floor below as grey clouds drifted out of view.

Not a single sound stirred the night. The water fell to the wood without a patter, and the chandelier shifted without so much as a creak. Silence echoed throughout the auditorium.

She stood center stage, staring out into the gloom of the dilapidated building. The cold air sent chills up her spine, and the wet edges of her skirt that stuck to her ankles made her skin sting. She wrapped her arms around herself, seeking warmth in her thick winter coat as wind bit at her face. From here, she could see straight through the roof to the moon, its menacing glare booring into her and freezing her to her spot.

They hadn’t been lying when they’d said the building was mute. Her shaky breath seemed to be the one sound that broke the silence. There should have been wind blowing. There should have been the calls of clinking glass. There should have been the scuffling of little feet as mice ran by, but there came no noise from anywhere. Anywhere but her.

She shuffled her feet. Her toes were starting to numb in her shoes. Her moccasins were not made to withstand the rain. Taking out her phone, she opened up her camera and started to record. Her friends were willing to pay good money for this, and if she didn’t start now, she never would.

“Okay,” she said to herself. “You can do this.”

And then, she began to sing.

—————————————————————————————————————————–

Far below the broken stage, buried beneath the ground, laid a small home. Set into the wall beyond a vast, black lake, it hid within the shadows of the building’s foundations. A boat floated about the water, tied to a small docking-point and rocking as the waves lapped away at the shore. A dim light lit up the doorway and, just like above, nothing made a sound.

The home had no windows, for all there was was the lake. It had one visible door, though it hung on its hinges with little grace, as if it had been left ajar for years. Beyond the door was a room, dark as the water and still as the dead. An old couch sat in the center, positioned in front of a cold fireplace. The mantle was bare and layered with grime, and the walls were beginning to peel. The damp smell of the rug filled the room and clung to the air. It had been years since this home had been cared for.

Another door stood in the corner of the room, also left open and hanging limp against the wall. Through it, a large organ could be seen, its rusted pipes bent and its broken keys scattered about the floor. A man sat at its bench, running his hands along the shattered instrument and staring into nothing.

Suddenly, through a small grate above his head, a voice called out. He jerked from the organ, surprised by the sound. What was that? Was someone there?

He could hear it clearly, a soft voice quivering through the notes of a meaningless song, echoing through the building and down through his tiny grate. It was nervous and untrained. It sounded scared. Where did it come from? Certainly not the theater, he thought. It had been silent for too many years. There was no way that sweet, terrified voice could be flowing from that accursed place. But there was nowhere else it could be coming from.

He stood from the bench and stalked through the doors. There was a voice up there in the quiet, hidden in the dark, and he intended to find it.

He intended to silence it.

—————————————————————————————————————————–

Her voice broke.

The last note of the song, and her voice broke.

She sounded like a pubescent teenage boy. It was embarassing! No matter that the theater was dead, it was still a theater and she couldn’t keep her voice from breaking. She stomped her feet and muttered to herself, shutting off the recording. Oh well, that would have to do. No one had said it had to be perfect.

For some reason, though, she wanted it to be.

Standing there, on the old stage, she wanted nothing more than to sound perfect. She had heard stories of this place, long before it had gone quiet. People had flocked from miles around to listen to each performance. Some of the world’s greatest opera singers had stood where she did now, and her voice breaking somehow felt like a sin, like a personal offense to their memories.

The empty seats now felt full of long-forgotten eyes. The moon was her spotlight, shining on her with a heavy sense of anticipation. She was no longer a frightened girl standing in the ruins of an abandoned theater. In this moment she was a budding prima donna, ready to step out and make her debut. She could not fail.

She slipped her phone into her coat pocket and, forgetting about the cold, straightened up and began again. She would not leave this place without hitting that note.

—————————————————————————————————————————–


He heard the opening notes once more as he slipped through a hidden door backstage. The voice sounded more confident now, ringing out with less fear and without a single tremble. It was so strange, the shift, that he had to stop and listen.

It was a woman, he knew. There was no mistaking her sickeningly sweet tone for that of a man, even with the power it now held. She faltered once or twice, but made up for her mistakes with the vigor with which she sang. Someone was singing her heart out on that stage, and he couldn’t help but creep towards her, mesmerized by her unbridled passion.

To some, she may not have been much to look at. Her skirt was wet and dirtied and her coat was so big it seemed to swallow her. Her blonde hair was tied up in a messy bun, dripping from its loose tips, and all he could see of her face were the round-rimmed glasses that sat on her nose. But there was something there, something he couldn’t quite place. Something that made her seem unworldly, ethereal. Yes, she was ordinary, but here in the moonlight, in this bleak, hellish place, he couldn’t help but think her beautiful.

Something made him stop several feet away from her. He was unsure whether it was the fear of the light or the end of her song, but he couldn’t make himself move closer. The logical part of him knew she could not hear him, but still he stayed, scared she would run if she knew he was there.

He didn’t want her to run, but he knew she had to. She couldn’t stay here, couldn’t be engulfed in the silence as he had. This place was wretched, disgusting, and she had no place in it. She, who sang like a bird even without training, who pushed herself into the lyrics she let linger in the air. He had to make her leave, but, after so long without sound, he could not stand to see her go.

So he stood and he watched as she turned to take out her phone, tapping the screen a few times before holding it up and moving around a bit. He was so lost in his thoughts that he realized too late what she was doing.

A light flashed as she took a picture of herself. In a panic, he rushed from the stage before she could swipe it onto her screen, and didn’t hear the small gasp that escaped her. He didn’t see her look around, didn’t see the fear in her eyes, and couldn’t watch as she escaped back out the way she came.

Her footsteps would echo in his ears for weeks to come.

magyarmagpie  asked:

What would you think of a CAWS au in which Nat shoots the WS in the head instead of hitting his goggles? But he lives and is brought back with the others by Hill?

Omg wait, how would this even go??

Like, would the shot knock him out? Does he get to fight them first? Because otherwise they wouldn’t’ve been captured, right? So, like, there’s been some fighting I’m guessing, but then does Nat shoot him before or after the mask falls?

Do they just get to arrest them because Steve’s sort of in shock after seeing Bucky or because TWS has held them back for long enough before Nat makes him unconscious that the STRIKE team arrives, and Steve doesn’t want to keep fighting because he’s not gonna risk Sam and Nat’s lives?

Does the STRIKE team just shove unconscious!Bucky into the back of the van and then Hill and the rest take him with them because HE’S BUCKY or is his mask still on and they’re thinking about interrogating him maybe, or something? 

When does Steve actually see his face and realize he’s Bucky? What happens next while they’re fighting HYDRA? Does Bucky leave too or do they take him into the Tower? YOU CAN’T JUST SAY THIS TO ME I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS.

anonymous asked:

you don't have to answer this but i'm overwhelmed by how beautiful my wife is. i just walked into our bathroom and she was taking a bubble bath. i hate bubble baths. but she was completely under the water except for her face and she looked so happy and peaceful and she was humming something. now i love bubble baths because they remind me of her. and i love her.

God this is so sweet ❤️❤️❤️ I’m so overwhelmingly happy for you ☺️

Welp, I did it and made myself sad

Courtesy of The 100 season 4 finale and my own anxieties about season 5

Clarke and Bellamy finally find each other again, but a lot has changed in six years…


As people rushed out of the cells and down the corridor, one prisoner rushed out only to stop. People pushed past as he looked down both ends of the corridor, probably determining the best exit route. Clarke’s heart tried to make its way into her throat. Perhaps that’s why she could barely gasp out his name.

Whether he heard the barely audible breath or his gaze was inextricably drawn to her as it always seemed to be, Bellamy turned, locking eyes with her even as bodies surged past between them. His big brown eyes were wide, freckles standing out against skin paled from the artificial light.

She couldn’t remember who moved first but they were both suddenly hurtling through the crowds, away from the exits, towards each other. Clarke practically launched herself into his arms as Bellamy clutched her to him. She buried her face into his shoulder as he buried his into her hair. She could feel his arms convulse around her—they were definitely bigger, he must’ve been working out, what else would there be to do on the Ark for six years.

Six years. Had it really been that long since she had seen him. Since they had parted on the island; her racing off to the radio tower to send the signal to turn the Ark’s power on so he and Raven and Monty and the others could survive. Of course it had been that long. She had radioed him every day of those six years, never even knowing if the signal had gone through, if he was alive.

But he was. He was right here. With her.

She could feel Bellamy’s heart pounding just as hard as hers. His shirt was damp from the steam billowing out of the pipes but it still smelled like him. Clarke tightened her arms around his neck, gripping her own arms as if locking in, unwilling to let anyone separate them ever again.

It seemed they stayed that way for an eternity before they each loosened their grips, still holding onto each other as if afraid they would vanish should they let go. They pulled away just enough to be able to look at each other; to note the slight changes in their faces from the years apart but how ultimately the same they still looked. Bellamy’s hair was a bit longer, probably unable to cut it while held prisoner, and he had facial hair—not quite a beard yet but a bit too much to be called stubble— that Clarke wasn’t sure about. It made him look older, rougher. It didn’t match his eyes. Those big brown orbs that threw the doors wide on his every emotion no matter how hard he tried to hide it. She was staring into them too long. But then, they tended to do that didn’t they? A slight smile was forming on his lips and Clarke could feel herself beaming even as tears leaked down her face.

“You’re alive,” they whispered simultaneously.

Bellamy grinned and Clarke’s sob turned into a laugh. Bellamy, ever so gently, wiped the tears from her cheek, Clarke nuzzling into his palm. As his hand slowly fell away, it was then that Clarke noticed Monty and Murphy behind him. They stood back a few steps, letting the two reunite. But each had a strange look on their faces as they looked back on the two before turning and scanning the rushing crowd.

Bellamy noticed Clarke’s glance at the others and his face began to fall.

“Bellamy, what is it?”

Still holding onto her arms, Bellamy turned to look back.

Emori and Harper raced out of one of the cells but stopped, waiting by the door. Echo appeared, dragging Raven out with her. Raven was limping slightly still. Emori hastened to help Raven as Harper and Echo scanned the corridor for the men. Harper spotted them and led the rush over, Raven and Emori behind, followed by Echo. Clarke had thought that they had been slowed down by Raven’s leg, but as the women moved towards them, Echo was also slowed by a burden she was carrying. A little girl with dark curls and big eyes was poised on her hip.

Bellamy stiffened and stepped away from Clarke. He almost stepped out of her reach, but Clarke kept a grip on his sleeve.

Harper flew into Monty’s arms while Murphy rushed to kiss Emori before helping her with Raven. Bellamy seemed rooted in place, turned halfway towards the approaching women, almost straining towards them, but something seemed to be holding him back—something besides Clarke’s fist wadded in his sleeve. With Bellamy turned, Raven and Echo now caught sight of Clarke. Something flashed in Raven’s eyes—surprise, relief, joy, and then a look that was eerily familiar. Echo cast a glance to Raven, but otherwise betrayed no emotion, merely adjusting the girl on her hip as they reached the men.

Bellamy looked completely lost. He locked eyes with Raven and a look passed between them that sent a swift pain to Clarke’s chest though she didn’t know why. Or maybe she did know why, she just wouldn’t admit it yet. Bellamy turned back to Clarke, eyes wide, but now fearful. He looked utterly heartbroken. His mouth opened as if to speak, but nothing came out before he glanced back towards Raven and Echo and the girl on her hip.

As Echo approached, the girl surged out of her arms towards Bellamy. He took her from Echo instinctively—the movement looking completely natural. He didn’t even have to think about it as he held her to his chest, her arms latching around his neck as she buried her face into his neck, not entirely unlike what Clarke had done just moments before. Bellamy kissed the top of the girl’s head, squeezing her tight. Raven reached out to stroke the girl’s hair, her hand just lingering on Bellamy’s shoulder before falling back down. The girl then pulled back, Bellamy adjusting her to his hip, and she looked over at Clarke.

“Daddy, who’s that?”

Clarke’s heart in her throat was now choking her.

Raven looked away, Emori rubbing circles on her back comfortingly. Bellamy’s entire body was rigid. He looked like he would shatter at the slightest touch as his watery eyes turned briefly to Clarke as if in apology.

“Clarke,” Bellamy began gruffly, addressing the girl on his hip first before looking back over to the woman he had been forced to leave behind. “This is Clarke.”

anonymous asked:

man i want so badly to lay across dat chest

❛ is that right? ❜

❛ it must be hard to hold back ❜

❛ i’ll try not to tempt you. ❜

It looks like Yuuri and Victor are crashing some wedding and Yuuri’s like at the point where he’s tipsy enough to tell really good stories about drunk Phichit but like, not tipsy enough to start going into stripper banquet mode

  • Ravenclaw (right after they've graduated hogwarts): You know now, as far as society is concerned, we're adults.
  • Hufflepuff: Yes! Isn't it exciting?
  • Ravenclaw: Adults who have to make their own decisions about their lives.
  • Hufflepuff: It's so freeing, isn't it?
  • Ravenclaw: I have no idea what I'm doing and I want to go back to school.
  • Hufflepuff: ...
  • Ravenclaw: I don't want to do classes or anything, I just want someone to cook for me and tell me when meals are so I don't forget and basically be able to ignore life's responsibilities.
my homemade facial masks

*this are my own recipes

chéri romantique

(this one is help firm and tone your skin,  moisturizes and hydrates.)

6 tsp fresh rose petals (or 3 tsp dried), 1 quart minarel water, 2 tsp honey, 1 tbsp rose water, 2 tbsp wheat flour

mix all of them together and apply all over your face. Leave on for 15 to 20 minutes and rinse. 

exquisite fae

(this moisturizes and hydrates your skin and will leave your face more glowing and helps to cleanse the dirt responsible for causing acne.)

2 mashed strawberies, 1 tsp honey, 1 tsp oatmeal, 1 tsp fresh cream 

mix all of them together and apply all over your face. Leave on for 10 to 15 minutes and wash your face with hot water.

sirène fraîche

(this one soothe skin and calm breakouts and irritation. And the best hangover cure)

mix 1 teaspoon of sea salt (use sea salt not table salt) with 3 tsp of hot water (if you use minarel water it would be better) in a bowl or cup stir until the sea salt is dissolved. mix in 2 tsp of aloe vera gel. Apply all over your face, leave on for 10 minutes and wash it gently.

soigné

(this one helps cleanse, soothe skin and reduce allergy symptoms)

2 tsp honey,1 tsp plain yogurt, 1 or 2 drop coconut oil, 1 drop lavender oil

mix them together and apply your face, leave on for 15 minutes and wash your face.

milkyway

(this one calm breakouts, heals withered skin.rehydrates and renews skin)

1 tbsp milk, ¼ ripe avacado, 1 tsp oatmeal

mix them together and apply all over your face leave on for 15 to 20 minutes and wash your face with cold water.

tfw Ishida won't be trusted anymore
  • Ishida in Re ch122: *has Touka confessing to Kaneki*
  • TG fandom: no but Tsukiyama interrupted them so we can't be sure that Kaneki feels the same
  • Ishida in Re ch124: *has Touka straddling Kaneki and going for a kiss*
  • TG fandom: no but maybe he's going to block Touka's kiss because his pal Amon once did the same with Akira
  • Ishida in Re ch125: *draws an entire chapter about Kaneki and Touka having sex*
  • TG fandom: no but what if it's Itori and not Touka?
  • Ishida: (≖_≖ )
I was standing here singing it with you going ‘wow, one more time’, with a whole new set of really amazing musicians, and Harry and you guys. This song [Landslide] just travels through the generations, it’s crazy. So here we go, it’s one more time… and you [Harry] can do this without me.
—  Stevie Nicks