#L-001

[stealingpotatoes]

reread @artbytesslyn's Facing the Sun recently, and honestly just HAD to try sculpting Liza (:

[mingos]

can't explain it, but doflamingo acts like someone who would enjoy salt & vinegar chips

[anniexarmstrong]

where: somewhere mildly kid friendly who: @wolfsonged​

“I do not believe a single word that comes out of your mouth anymore, not one,” Annie accuses, voice full of mirth as she wags a finger in his direction. “You’re telling me people find these things funny?” It was a nonsense picture from the internet. Normally, she’d ask Odette, but the possibility she’d corroborate Raul’s story was too high.

[wardenes-official]

Haruka comes, or runs, up to Es, out of breath.

"...hah...hah...w-warden...san..."

-- @hsakurai-official

Es blinks, staring at a rather out of breath Haruka. “Haruka? What’s wrong?” Right now, Haruka was… staring at his warden who was in Mikoto’s first trial uniform… so that’s a unique occurrence?

[ 4 asks left. ]

[sleptwithinthesun]

Would you be up for writing a Tim Drake allergy fic? 👀 dealer’s choice on the cause, I just don’t see enough of him around

oh, FUCK yeah. any specific idea in mind? i do have something that i'm working on but i have no idea how the motivation for that is going to go, so if you have a prompt, send it in and i'll get try to to it before the end of may (im graduating college in two weeks lol)

[saiakv]

flower ( from nanako if you're still accepting these bad boys omg )

ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS: not accepting

He rarely speaks. In these rooms, in the hallways; he keeps his gaze high and his hands buried and he walks with the tranquility of a man who knows where he is headed. With each tap of his zori on polished floors, his mind repeats it ( 'I hate them. I hate them. I hate them.' ) and by the time he is sat inside the audience chamber, he can smile.

Then, it's over; and his ritual comes next. Washing his hands and face, spraying his clothes clean, sometimes dabbing perfume behind his ear — he gets meticulous about it, up until it is time to swallow and burn the taste away with a smoke on his porch. When it goes down, it leaves that fizzle like a big gulp of ramune sat at the esophagus. His eyes travel over the bowed heads of monkeys toiling at the temple gardens -- and he can smile.

But when her voice calls to him sweetly ( 'Geto-sama' ; no longer with the echo of an uncertain child reaching out for her mother's skirt, but with the effervescence of a teenager discovering wonders with one foot into the family home and one out there into the world ) it disrupts the quietude like a rainbow cutting through a summer downpour. Suguru's head turns before he has a chance to collect the smile that blooms now; without need for self-affimations or indulging his vices.

And what a smile that is — broad and deep and crinkling his eyes when a playful chuckle follows. Suguru does not always note it, but he's been told ( not much can get past his secretary ) that his voice grows softer when around them and that he should try to be more serious when he addresses them, because they are no longer children. Manami probably knew what she was talking about, but he had come to terms with the fact that he couldn't help it. Let them tease him for it; let them relish in making humor of his weakness for these girls and call him 'sappy' and lonely. Suguru might still be in his twenties, but he has lost enough people to know the value of these moments.

Hurriedly, he puts out the kiseru, hand wafting some lingering smoke away from Nanako's spotless visage — like the petals of the blossom in her grasp. His knees bend before she reaches him, even, head bowing to allow for purchase; she may pluck it among the strands of raven cascading down his shoulders or let it rest behind his ear.

❝ Ah, the camellias have blossomed before their time, I see. Thank you, Nanako. ❞ But his loving gaze studies her in a way that reveals the true meaning under his words. It tilts to a playful pout, his bottom lip sticking out with feigned petulance.

❝ It would be a good time to pick some for your sister's album. I suppose, though, since you already went on a walk on your own, I'll have to go alone... ❞ He looks pensively off to the side. It's one of those rare glimpses of showmanship — same as the times he'd change his voice over a bedtime story or make funny faces when Mimiko couldn't catch her breath. Through the crack between thick lashes, a glimpse of Nanako's face is stolen. And then Suguru has to hold back his smile; lest it give his silly act away.

[screenviolense]

　　' gepard, i told you i'm fine. it's just a little sprain, they happen all the time. ' whether it was in her workshop or on stage, serval had gotten used to rolling with the punches, even when it meant a few extra bruises or a hurt ankle like now. but of course, this time her brother had caught her and he wouldn't let it go.

@forbelobog / starter call.

[monogatcri]

@erabundus replied to your post:

he's shaking his head, he's mouthing "no"

━━ ˟ ⊰🍁HIS MOUTH SAID OK , but his eyes read: help me.

[emblazons]

Y'all keep talking about how they didn't give Finn and Noah any interviews together, but...I literally cannot fathom a reason for them not to have Jamie and Millie do any S4 promo together other than it being an even larger S5 spoiler to do so.

The entire last half of the season is about their interactions and dynamic, to the point that they are direct visual foils?? Like. I'm gonna need the S5 junket to resolve that with the Q U I C K N E S S

put the three-name actors together right now I beg you lmao

[dusty-anderson]

@emiraxtemel​

downtown streets

Dustin was walking at a quick pace when he noticed Emira across the street. He remembered Danny mumbling about her being back in town. Dusty asked all the important questions. Was she single? Danny’s shrug meant he didn’t know or think about it which also meant Dusty had full permission. Stopping dead in front of her, Dusty smiled and clicked two finger guns in her direction. “Do you...want to have dinner with me?” he asked simply. “The best Anderson.”

[goldsilked]

@bdwilliamshakes

Mindless wanderings had prompted Madeleine on a wild goose chase throughout the labyrinth halls of Hampton Court – the so-called ‘Great Room,’ where all dined and supped to the tune of merry court dirges, which delivered her sinful soul unto the Chapel, a quiet and sunlit sanctuary purged of sullied consciences, stretching into a warren of stone-flanked corridors no different than the countless others Madeleine had strolled through.  Only, where the halls of Château de Blois overlooked the sprawling hills and sage-warmed elms of the Loire, Hampton Court commanded a view of the dank little Thames; more like a garden snake sneaking along London than a landmark, a river destitute of might or vigour, wafting a stench across the city that would cause the Saints weep in their marble tombs.

But with all hopes of returning to the Queen's side in a timely manner thoroughly aborted, Madeleine craned her neck to a patch of light leaching from beneath an arched doorway. Tiptoeing into the ostensibly empty chambers, a quicksilver shaft of lightning wresting across the skies bleached the space moon-white as she stood beneath its vaulted beams, rolling with carvings of chivalric tourneys, knighthood in bloom.  Not daring to wail out in order to discern the room’s occupancy, the lady crept toward the imposing escritoire dominating the space, and tugged open one of its sundry compartments; finding within an even greater number of secreted cavities, crammed with leaflets curling at the edges, piles upon piles of parchment, bearing the hallmark of a thumb's moistened caress, words gushing across the page.  No sooner had she plucked up one such document did the wooden floorboards creak with another’s weight, alerting her to a man's presence.  Clutching the parchment to her chest, and with movements fluid and unperturbed, Madeleine pirouetted to face him.

‘Before you have me tried and hanged, remember that a lady never rummages.  She only delicately snoops.’  Releasing a dulcet smile, the lady lilted,  ‘these are yours, I presume?  You must be the Princess’ newest charge …  Shortspear, was it?  A bard, oui.  A very good one, or perhaps merely a prolific one?’  She twisted her arm and laid her hand flat on the desk, the single ring she wore clinking against its lacquered surface as she propped herself against the oak’s ancient weight.  ‘These days, is there any difference, monsieur?’

[twopoppies]

.

[zibbylapointe]

when: sep. 20th  |  golden hour where: alien gulch who: @strikercannon​​

It had started with an I can do that.

Thrill-seeking stunts are an affinity better shared, and who else in Roswell best suited for treading this common ground than Striker Cannon?

Beth had proven to have the necessary ( stupidity ) fearlessness required for such shenanigans with her penny board and a precarious arrangement of pallets and tires. She’d come out on the other side with a bloody grin and blurry footage– cherry on top being Striker’s thumb smudging a generous portion of her video camera –and it had been worth it: Striker’s cackling approval, grin wide and gangly legs hopping like a pixie dancing over firecrackers, still rings in her ears whenever Beth’s conscience threatens to remind her of her failures. 

“Alright, so... Start over on that side and make our way ‘round to those boulders there?” 

The rough plan, boiled down to its raw basics, is to shoot Beth off of her skateboard while she rides around, all the while trying to get Striker in the nads. She’ll see if she can encourage him to switch places a little later down the line– tender balls permitting, that is. 

[likemalik]

date: september 12th time: 7:43 pm location: the braxton family home status: closed to @scggy​ & @kayahq​

Malik is almost entirely convinced now that their siblings are utterly allergic to punctuality or anything close to it. 

Malik and his mothers have already exhausted the typical points of casual conversation: Malik’s perpetually non-existent love life, his music students’ progress, the latest home renovation projects, and Out Of This World’s sale where his moms, of course, bought far more books than was completely necessary.

Now all three of them are sitting at the table, Malik shuffling awkwardly every so often as all the Braxtons present’s eyes flash to the clock on the wall again and again. Each of them have a cup of chamomile tea in hand, the enchiladas on the stove growing colder with each passing moment.

“I’m sure they’re on their way. Just... stuck in a little traffic,” Malik tries to assure through a tight, unnatural little smile. Really, they’re more convinced that Connor and Kaya arrived at the same time and are now a tangle of wrestling bodies rolling around the driveway.

[deificdeceit-a]

To give an idea on how feral zhongli is and how romance for him isn’t normal... This here explains it perfectly

[screenviolense]

@vamprincen sent: 21

　　' i used to be a real go-getter. i used to think it'd all get better. ' amazing how going to one party with the wrong person could make you an irritable member of the undead.

spotify wrapped has arrived. send me a number from 1-100 for a starter based on that song, or a lyric from it, or send a 🎁 for me to shuffle. + so much (for) stardust - fall out boy