#AAAAAND CLOSE

[dnangelic]

what was there ever to do but laugh ? gaiety was a guard ; it tended to well-serve him . so long as he could still conjure up all sorts of falsities and absurdities and frivolous flights of fancy , then the dragging weights of an inescapable reality snapping at his heels and hounding him for lifetimes could still readily be fluttered away from , if only just for a moment . so could he too gradually , comfortably disappear --- the great phantom thief was , after all , at least partly a magician , and members of the occupation seemed to have earned the right to their titles only as soon as they could transmute dull cloth to doves and pull snow-white rabbits out of pitch , empty spaces .

spinning plates , smoke and mirrors , balls and chains and drowning birds in locked up boxes --- look , his tricks ! his nonsense that defied logic ! of course the grandiosity of his display would still struggle to entertain a rough-and-tumble cynic and skeptic , the sound of everything seemingly beginning to crash and erupt around him just as readily as sakura's voice snaps and roars .

he halts ; freezes abruptly at the declaration ---

--- snatched out of his spectacularly building show , out of his thoughts , and thrown abruptly into the cold with the light still licking at his feet . he watches haplessly as a weight smashes onto the stage of his thoughts like a loose-dropped pulley setting free a one-ton fist , or a teetering light that had finally fallen and splintered wood , now left weakly blinking .

dark . just dark . ( ... do you even know what you're saying ? )

owlish , shockingly awkward , even afraid --- it's a mercy that he's taken a place beside her turned away , sakura therefore failing to bear any witness to the strange mixture of emotions each fighting for a turn on just one face . what about his dereliction ? his ruin ? the state of her uniform and any answer regarding it had become the very least of his blazing concerns . she's shuttered everything and he remains in the leftover silence , thinking --- thinking --- trying to think --- coming up with nothing in his thoughts but a numb buzz and the dull , smothered-seeming pound of his heart .

( what ... just what the hell are you talking about --- ? )

how could someone have felt so far away even while they were just right behind him ? if he weren't a coward , he could have turned ; brought his touch to sakura and bridged them by her side , the shoulder --- but he knows , be it by his own discomforting temperature or her own hackling habits , that he shouldn't have ; that his excuses carried far more weight than simply being excuses , the rest of him trapped in a frenzied , dizzying spin .

if only he could have laughed again , and yet its servitude felt broken . shattered . any sound now would have only been a mockery , not only of itself but sakura and his words to her . so he merely listens --- staying still , basking in the irony of what must be , he thinks , a shared affliction , despite their stark differences . even if he were the first to say , then she still might have been the first to demonstrate ---

' that so ? '

his own voice is no smaller nor larger than it's always been in retort . it gently cradles sakura's own , the soft mewl of it wrapped by his usual lyrechord carry , absent of malice ; empty of mischief . did she truly even think him a person ? a proper human being , whose presence --- opinion , bore any sort of legitimate worth ? and not what thing he truly was ; live mask and inherited character , a shadow bound to its immortal role , now stripped to whatever it was that was left , this hungry empty ; this stark nothing but a drowsing cherub and discontent .

still , even the sensation of a bruise could birth from the press of something happy . words are clutched at ; he wields his silence and the slow , low speech of his voice carefully .

( --- so were you . ) ' then i guess ... to something like me , you've only ever been just "sakura," too . '

his eyes shut . he wouldn't entertain anymore ; there was nothing left to be said . and yet even so , somewhere in the midst of the heightened emotion wearing off into a collapsing exhaustion escapes one last phrase . as simple , demanding , and cherishing as :

' goodnight , sakura . sleep well . '

“Grrr, damn you, why’re you laughin’ at me!?”

As much as that expression is...surprisingly, actually, kinda nice on his features (he looks genuinely pleased that Haruka said what she did), his amusement serves to do nothin’ but piss her off. Him jumpin’ up and outta the way of her fist is mildly irritating—she expected that!—but she’s practically comfortable with it at the sound.

Because who the hell is he to doubt her and her abilities—!!!

“My name isn’t a damn alias, anyway, and I’m not some stupid detective!! You’re over there creatin’ random crap to believe like always—!!”

Lies and slander, puttin’ words in her mouth, he’s always doin’ some kinda shit to’er!! Doesn’t it ever get tiring, keeping up with so many false words and things said? Forget all the stories and myths for a second, this seems like the thing that would get most exhausting for’im.

“‘sides, you bein’ the Phantom Thief or whatever doesn’t matter to me anyway!” She snaps, leaning back, ass to heels, for a second before she rises back up to stand. “When you’re here, you’re just Dark, and trust me—that’s more than memorable enough.”

To her, anyway, but that’s kinda her own point: One or two people rememberin’ someone seems like plenty. But, to counter her point, and as she was just thinkin’, she really doesn’t know him, either.

“...but is it that you did or didn’t take my uniform, after all? Start makin’ some sense already.”

Not that it really matters—she can always ask again when she’s more conscious of the fact that she’s wondering about it at all, but for right now, it’s just somethin’ comin�� outta her mouth; somethin’ for her to say as her brain goes on overload to think about just how little she knows about one Dark Mousy.

To be fair, not knowing a lot about him doesn’t bother her; no more than it bothers her that she doesn’t know a shit-ton about the pasts of some of her fellow classmates, which is also pretty much none. Even at times where she finds she’s learning to read between the lines a bit, or at times when he is being genuine but it seems like an accident, she tries not to rise to’em as much as she can—if he wanted her to, he’d find a way to let her know. And even if he didn’t meet that expectation, then fine; he’s his own person, after all, not whatever she or anyone else could conjure up in their heads.

In any case, her point is simple: Her own lack of knowledge about him isn’t something she’ll make a big fuss of. She just... Again, she thinks it’s a little sad that nobody seems to really know him.

Asking him something far more outright than she’s currently done like Would you want people to know the real you? (because ‘Wouldn’t there be too much room for error if you had too many stories?’ and ‘If things get outta hand, then who can really know you?’ are, in fact, way different to her) is counterintuitive to everything, though—if only because, if someone ever asked her that, she wouldn’t hesitate to knock teeth outta their mouth.

At least he’s never as violent (well, as far as she knows, anyway). At least his bobbin’ and weavin’ amounts to somethin’ besides irritating the daylights outta her.

(...maybe one day, though, you can trust me enough? —that’s the type’a thing people gotta earn, though, so she won’t ask that, either.)

“...my fists are perfectly cool, though, I’ll have you know.”

As a matter of fact, they have been for a little bit now; she even stood by, calm as anything, as he lowered himself back into the futon, turned onto his side and put his back to’er and everything. The roll of her eyes is second-nature, when it comes as a reaction to some shit he’s doin’, but the fondness is a bit of a more recent development (not that he’s gotta know that, though.)

(...then again, when it comes to all that’s gone down tonight, he probably already knows. Well, no big loss.)

“But fine; also, you can just say you’re tired, yanno.” She adds on, another shake of her head following just once again fond. “No need to send me to bed.”

Him enacting some kinda bedtime is the least of her concerns, though, so she has no trouble relenting. If nothing else, too, she intends to leave everything there—she turns on her heel to flip the light switch off, turns her own back to his just to do it, but then—

—but then he says that, and it stops her cold.

The fact that it isn’t an unheard of sentiment for her isn’t what makes her do it, it’s the fact that he’s being simple with it. There’s been a million and one caveats to hearing those same words outta other people’s mouths (and she remembers them, remembers every single one, but she has to physically bite her tongue to keep the thoughts at bay), but when he says it, it’s just... Plain.

‘It’s a nice name. Sakura.’

(...am I hoping for anything else?)

...idiot. Don’t do this to yourself.

She flips off the light before she turns on her heel again to walk back to the futon in the dark. Ironically, she’s always been a little scared of it—nobody ever cared to make sure the monsters in her closet didn’t exist—always seeing it as this maw of nothingness that’d sooner swallow her up than anything else, but...tonight, it isn’t so bad.

(If only because the one in her chest is the one threatening to eat her alive.)

She crawls right under the comforter with him, though, and just turns her back to his again, too. Tries, for some time, to not say a damn word. Part of her can’t—if she opens her mouth, there’s equal opportunity for her to cry and for her to get angry—but another part of her can’t not say anything.

“You think so?” If her voice sounds small, that’s not her business. Not much of his, either.

“...you’re the first person to add nothin’ else to that.”

[objektum]

OBJECTUM PEOPLE. How did you figure out you're objectum. GO

[arsenicflame]

It's a time-honoured tradition- every time Sam comes across Izzy (and Ed) in their travels, he asks Izzy to marry him. And every time, Izzy turns him down.

At this point, Sam is asking more for the sake of it than any belief Izzy will ever say yes, a remnant of childhood dedication touched with 30 years of heartbreak and regret- though even now, a small part of him still holds out hope. Sam's promises have only got more extravagant over the years, from a job as his first mate, to a captaincy, a fleet at his command, a whole fucking island if that's what Izzy wants- but he knows it isn't though, not really. If Izzy was ever going to agree to marry him, to leave his life and go with Sam, it wouldn't be for anything Sam could offer him. Izzy never did care for flashy shows of wealth, for a ship or to be captain. The only thing that ever mattered to him was loyalty given, and loyalty shown in return. 

It all comes to a head after Stede left and came back, after Izzy lost a toe, lost his leg. Sam hasn't seen him since before things with Ed started to really slide off the rails, before stress permanently set into the lines of Izzy’s face. So, when he sees a dishevelled man with a hoof for a leg in a no-name port, he doesn't even consider the idea that he might know him. It's only when he turns towards him, and Sam catches a glance at those oh too familiar tattoos, he realises this is Izzy, his Izzy, that stands before him.

Knowing Izzy's discomfort with pity, he doesn't treat him any differently than he would in years gone by, positioning himself in Izzy's line of sight before approaching and sweeping him up into a bone crushing hug. 

“Israel-goddamn-Hands!” he exclaims, as Izzy grumbles back a begrudging “Samuel-fucking-Bellamy”, a tradition almost as old as their friendship itself. Izzy might not hug him back, but he can’t keep the corner of his mouth from twitching, just for a second.

(If Sam holds Izzy a little tighter and a little longer than usual, well. That's his business)

By the time Sam lets go, most of the crew has appeared in the town square, drawn in by the commotion. They may have given Izzy his leg and welcomed him as one of them, but still there’s an underlying tension, with nobody quite ready to set aside everything that happened before the Kraken. Seeing him cosying up to an unknown man sets everyone on edge, unsure whether to come to their first mate’s aid, or to assume that they've been betrayed once again.

When Ed sees that the yelling was Sam, his hand goes tense where it's held in Stede's. He knows the routine, has seen it more times than he can count, but as he watches them part he realises that this is the first time in a long time he's unsure of what Izzy's response will be.

Knowing that something’s different, knowing that Izzy's feeling vulnerable already, Sam doesn't go for the same flashy proposal he’s been giving for years. He doesn't promise Izzy the world, he doesn't cause a scene (or, any more of a scene than he already has, anyway). He looks at the fractured man in front of him, takes his face in his hands, and says the exact same thing to him he said when they were little more than boys. “Israel, I have to ask you. I know what you'll say, but I have to try. Come with me. Marry me and sail away with me. I'll keep you safe”

And Izzy… hesitates. He glances over at Ed, at Stede, and says to Sam “...We’re staying in port for a week. Ask me again then”

That's the moment Sam knows there is something deeply, horribly, wrong. He's not just looking at an Izzy who got seriously injured in a fight and is struggling to cope, this is something so much bigger than that- and that Ed has something to do with it. Izzy wouldn't even be considering leaving if he didn't. Whether it was negligence or something more sinister, Sam doesn't yet know, but he intends to find out.

[coldshrugs]

glamtober #31 - supernatural: mothman

my favorite american cryptid. i spent half my childhood in appalachia and those mountains are haunting and comforting. there's something nice about a fucked up creature trying to warn folks away from harm. this fit is silly but we can pretend she found it in eorzea's version of spirit halloween, right next to the sexy chirurgeon costumes.

items used:

head: tonberry head (jet black | ruby red) body: quaintrelle's ruffled dress (jet black | jet black) arms: demonic gloves (N/A | ruby red) legs: bunny tights (N/A | jet black) feet: makai priestess's longboots (ruby red) fashion accessory: fallen angel's wings

[cherrirui-official]

Halloween special while i finish stuff up lol

@saltydkart-reblogs

[wimbledon2008]

🌴🎾

[jimmyspades]

"I want you to know, wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, if you are in need, I will be there." THE BLACKLIST 1.10 "Anslo Garrick (No. 16): Conclusion"

[freaky-flawless]

The return of some old faces

I finally got around to fleshing them out, so here's some more info on them under the cut:

They're all students at New Salem University and share a dorm room together. Demonique and Luci have been longtime friends, attending elementary and middle school in Hell before transferring to Monster High together, while Fangel is newer to the friend group, but feels as though she's always belonged with these ghouls.

Fangel attended Belfry Prep her whole un-life until she was able to escape that stuffy and intolerant environment once she graduated and started college. She never agreed with traditional vampire values, and always kept friends outside of school that were different monster types, and she's absolutely thriving in campus life.

Demonique may or may not have feelings for her vampire friend, but knows that she's already in a happy and committed relationship, and so she keeps her feelings hidden. Aside from that she's super chill and often the voice of reason. She's also incredibly creative, and is apart of all kinda of clubs on campus.

As Lucifer's eldest child, Luci is set to become the new ruler of Hell once her father retires. She's actually pretty hyped about it, and figures a business degree will help her become an effective ruler. She's the campus's resident party girl, and given her popularity, she's known for throwing the biggest college parties around. Given her status, she's able to get away with more than the average student, but she tries not to abuse this power too much.

[hellsite-detective]

Hi! I remember this old post and I have no idea how to find it.

Your blog was mentioned in a post reblogged by one of the blogs I followed and thought maybe you might know what I'm talking about.

It's a Tumblr text post of someone trying to say she's a lesbian but she keeps spelling it wrong and it's more misspelled each time and then in between all of the waffling it just says "it's okay, take your time."

Thanks for your help!

-Pidge

ah, a classic post. one i think about all the time. as a lesbiab myself, i can't help but relate to it. findin' it, however, proved a bit of a challenge. see, i went down to my ol' pal, Google, at the Search Bar. havin' been away for a week, they were shocked to see me. they remarked that they thought i was dead. i told 'em that i was away on vacation with Madame Curator. a fittin' response, considerin' the sapphic subject matter of the post case. so, i asked 'em for the post, and they delivered a screenshot. from there, i went to track down the addresses, but both were turnin' up blank. so, headin' back to Google, i asked for the exact quote of "i'm a lesbiab" from tumblr. they delivered a link to a variation of the post. from there, i scrolled through the reblogs until i got to the first few, which got me where i needed to go. i did find out that both the blogs weren't gone, they had just moved to a different address. either way, i filed the case away and went about my day.

here you go! your classic post! i love this one personally and i'm glad i could uncover this classic! have a great day!

Post Case: Closed

[mappingthesky]

burning through you - part 1

i was re-watching s16 aaaand got inspired....so here's some stuff <3 part 1/????

Day One

She was a professional. Composed. Rock-solid. 

Nerves were a part of professionalism. Jane knew that. She knew the burn of anxiety in her throat, and had long since mastered the art of using it to her advantage. Its what made her such a star, her ability to turn nerves into excitement, fear into confidence. She told herself that nerves meant that what she was doing mattered, that she cared, and that she had no choice but to do well.

She was nervous then. It did amazing things for her figure. She redistributed the tightness in her chest throughout her body, using it to straighten her posture and elongate her neck. People didn’t notice nervousness if she held herself right, and thats exactly what happened now. The other girls looked at her with wide-eyed impression, intimidation. Their gazes lingered on the careful details of her clothes and the shape of her body. They reacted to her. They laughed at her jokes, recoiled at her quips. Jane saw the effect she had on the room and the people in it, be it respect or envy or otherwise. She was in her zone, as she often was, and she knew it.

She felt alright about the other girls, liked them even. Some were silly, some were sweet, some just kinda sucked. All of them put her at ease in one way or another. Nymphia, however, did not.

Nymphia was perfect in every way. She seemed to twirl on air, breezing through the room with effortless elegance. Her dark eyes glittered with life, lit by some internal spark that radiated through her skin. She was dainty, perfectly shaped, her beautiful clothes sat like drapery on sculpted marble. She was a well-composed work of art, and she made Jane nervous. Only when the next girl walked in did she realize that she wasn’t breathing, that she hadn’t been since Nymphia floated into the room. Where the other girls had reinforced her vision of herself and bolstered her confidence, Nymphia challenged it. 

Jane understood perfection. She’d molded it with her own hands, knew how it was bred, and had found that no beautiful facade could exist without a dark spot to conceal. She knew girls like this, she was a girl like this, and she’d learned that perfection was alluring, yes, but it, or what lay beneath, drove people away.

And so searched for a flaw in the girl. She kept a close eye on Nymphia those first few days, watching the way she spoke and the effect it had on the room. What she found was that Nymphia’s confidence didn’t push people away as Jane’s often did. Instead, it drew them in. She was twinkly, zany, even a tad delusional, and the other girls seemed to eat it up. 

What Jane found even worse was that Nymphia was nice, genuinely nice, even to her. Some girls were nice to Jane out of admiration, some out of fear, like she would break them if they misspoke. Others were cautious, tiptoeing around her and her precise tongue. Some avoided her altogether. Jane knew she rubbed a few the wrong way, even if she didn’t mean to. She couldn’t help her tendency to nitpick. Taking things apart was how she made sense of them, how she sorted the good from the bad, and in this she could almost justify the remarks that flew from her lips before she’d had the decency to filter them. Kindness didn’t come naturally to her.

It did come naturally to Nymphia, annoyingly so. She was light, silly, charming. She was bubbly in the way that only true confidence allows, it emanated from her with every word. She’d hugged Jane immediately, eyes glittering, offering compliments that Jane had brushed off in the moment. She would later try to remember them, searching her memory for the exact words Nymphia had used to describe her.

It was Nymphia’s ease during their introduction that bothered Jane the most. If she wasn’t intimidated by Jane, she could have at least had the decency to make it obvious. The girl didn’t seem to react to her at all, and offered her the same kindness that she did everyone else. Jane divided people, but she couldn’t gauge where Nymphia stood, and it set her nerves on fire. 

It was some time that day, watching Nymphia flit around the room and feeling the white-hot flames of fear in her chest, that Jane made up her mind. If Nymphia made her nervous, she would gladly return the favor. If Nymphia gave her nothing, she'd give even less. She resolved to pay no mind to Nymphia, none at all.

[moraygrotto]

🥤sebek. please . insert image of jerma w hand on hip sparkle on its Thursday

but yeah lol

🥤 Your character gets a big soda to go along with their lunch. They're more than full by the time their food is gone, but the soda remains. Rather than discard it, they bring the cup along with them and keep drinking it despite their belly's protests.

-

"Whoah. Sebek, was that you?"

Sebek's stomach had let out a growl that had echoed down the hallway. He was almost proud of how beastly it sounded.

He turned to face the passing classmate, and snapped something about how it was rude to call attention to others' bodily functions like that, before continuing on his way. Most fortunately, the professor of his next class allowed snacks.

At the cafeteria, he had sat with his dormmates; sweet drinks had been on sale; he had ordered an extra large, befitting his appetite, but found it still half full at the end of lunch period. Silver had assured him that he did not have to finish it, right before Lilia cut him off, intoning in a deathly serious voice that he really should.

Lilia's word was law, and besides, Sebek was not one to waste food.

He had drunk the beverage industriously on his walk to class. It was as if his insides were packed with firecrackers, the carbonation was so intense.

As he placed his cup and bag down at his desk, he felt a voluminous belch rise inside him. Sitting down, he stifled it, as well as his highly-trained throat muscles could muster.

The student next to him giggled. He froze. They had heard.

No matter, he told himself. He would only grovel for forgiveness before Malleus, on the dreaded chance that he found out about this unbecoming slip of Sebek's. This human in his class would never see—

"Y'know," they said, turning to him as he sucked another mouthful up through the cup's straw, "you don't need to finish that drink."

[chiropteracupola]

but still I keep your hand, as a precious souvenir...

[gildead]

Part 1 Part 2 (GRAPHIC CONTENT WARNING, SEE TAGS ON POST FOR DETAILS.) Part 3 (MASSIVE GRAPHIC CONTENT WARNING, SEE TAGS ON POST FOR DETAILS.) Part 4 (you are here!)

Last night, members of the Goldenrod City Police Department were stunned when a man identifying himself as a participant in the Underground Johto League turned himself in for multiple counts of Pokémon abuse and unregulated battling.

Covered in various injuries, the man tearfully recounted the horrifying treatment he subjected various poor Pokémon to. After giving the GCPD his address, officers raided his home and confirmed his story. When asked about his injuries, the man could only sob harder as he muttered about what appeared to be a ghost tormenting him.

Currently, the suspect is in jail and awaiting further questioning on his activities. The Route 34 daycare and Professor Elm are hard at work rehoming his former Pokémon and helping them to rehabilitate. Ecruteak City's gym leader Morty has promised to be on the lookout for any hostile Ghost-Type Pokémon or other spirits.

Please contact the Goldenrod City Police if you have any further information on illicit--

Gold watched as Silver crumpled the newspaper into a ball before throwing it at him. The wad of paper bounced off of Gold's head harmlessly, causing him to sneeze in response. At least it wasn't the rock like when he first appeared to him.

"Looks like somebody's famous now." Silver folded his arms and let out a huff. "Didn't I tell you to keep yourself out of trouble?"

Gold wrung his sleeves sheepishly. "Actually, you told me to-- that I should keep better track of-"

"Don't play dumb." Despite his irritation, Silver couldn't help but crack a smirk at his former rival. Even after all this time as a tormented ghost, he could be so literal minded. "We both know that wasn't any Ghost-type that made the guy turn heel. And I bet she does, too."

As Silver spoke, the Wigglytuff came waddling out from behind him and made a beeline towards Gold. Her wide eyes sparkled as she leaped into his arm-like sleeves for a hug, a breathy chirp coming from her small body. Gold felt his heart sink as he listened to her and observed the tiny scar on her white fuzzy stomach.

No matter how much the nurses at the Pokémon Center tried - no matter how well they were able to help her recover - she would likely never sing again, much less battle.

But... there was one place she could have a home with.

Gold heard footsteps crunch and snapped his head upwards. Silver had begun to walk off, clearly content with leaving the two to have their moment. Wigglytuff looked between both boys, eventually nudging Gold.

"Silver-" Gold cleared his throat, hoping to say something that had been on his mind from long ago. Long before he met his end. "I-"

"Don't thank me." Silver didn't look back. "Better she's with you than that loser."

Gold felt his heart sink again. Wigglytuff coughed and reached up to his face, patting his cheek with her stubby little hand to comfort him. She slow-blinked affectionately, waiting for his next move. You'll get him next time, her expression appeared to say to him.

Managing a smile, Gold pulled out a Love Ball and tapped it gently against Wigglytuff's forehead.

WIGGLYTUFF was caught!

Give a nickname to the captured WIGGLYTUFF? >YES NO Is 'Sable' correct? >YES NO

'Sable' joined your party!

[perenlop]

i did not purposefully model her after this character or anything and tbh i dont think theyre that similar literally but how is maya so dovewing-core…. every single dovewing song i associate with her or ive heard in an amv can also be applied to maya (except for pegasus device i think but thats an au so) and most posts i associate with dovewing i also associate with maya

i cannot escape this series

[tobethemselves]

Hello! I hope you’re doing well. The one year anniversary of Faith In The Future is this Saturday! What are your top 5 songs from the album?

Noo that’s a hard one I can’t decide 😭

Written all over your face

Copy

All this time

Angels fly

Holding on to heartache

[ofcowardiceandkings]

need to collect some sketch ideas for totk character revisits