#Sight Village

[ichristian-news]

❤️Love At First Sight...Village: 19 Years On!!! ❤️

From Sight Village, guitars and supercars, what a journey…So Far!! 💪🏼 😀  This weekend we’re celebrating a brobdingnagian 19 years since the ‘Blind Sightseers’ first met at Sight Village, Birmingham, UK. We’ve been simply stunned how God has joined us together with the incredible love we thought we’d never find, taken us to places we thought we could never go…And He always gives beyond anything…

[lesliemeyers]

y'know thats pretty goth

[feshsticks]

you cannot tell me this woman has any long distance vision at all. also

[littlepawz]

Gouqi island is located in the Shengsi archipelago of about 400 islands. Jane Qing captured the stunning images of this city of seemingly endless buildings, which were a part of a fishing village years ago. The region has a history of doing well, even today, in the fishing industry. Yet, this particular island seems to have been forgotten.

Each discovery of abandoned cityscapes is captivating, but one covered in beautiful ivy and greenery surely enchants in its own way.

~Shengsi Islands - Gouqi Island / Jane Qing Photography~

[satans-knitwear]

I have made some intimidating dragon wings for the baby-bean.

[justaz]

merlin being forced to confront the fact that he’s failing his people bc he’s sitting idly by while uther slaughters them all and coming to the decision that he has to act to save them but that’ll make him camelot enemy no. 1 but technically he already was they just didn’t know it. merlin spending a week all morose but unwilling to talk about it and spending as much time with his friends as possible. on his last night in camelot, he goes to arthur’s chambers and the prince is confused on why he’s there. merlin drops a sealed letter on his desk before pulling arthur into a gentle and emotional kiss. they barely separate, their lips hardly a breath apart, and merlin asks for forgiveness. arthur, thinking he’s apologizing for the kiss, tells him there’s nothing to forgive and goes in for a second kiss but merlin pulls away, knowing that that one brief kiss was all he could handle. if he lets arthur kiss him the way he’s dreamt of being kissed, he won’t be able to do what he needs to do, he won’t be able to leave. merlin tells him good night and leaves before arthur can react. he’s gone by dawn.

[beesgav]

I like the idea of the Toa Mata being... around when needed, but for the most part just kinda going off and doing their own thing since they're not really beholden to any rules. It's a very special thing to actually see one of the Toa chilling out somewhere

[caitlynmeow]

Alcina @ Cassandra 😭😭😭

[feathersea]

Pov: he just saw you run away from a village he was ransacking

Ps: Killer's about to pounce on you

In this AU he's rides a Night Fury, and he turned to crime after some interesting events I'm cooking up. Giggling.

Also, I can't do colour, so I tried some black and white stuff for the funzies.

[katetcake]

I don't really like that Tulin turns out to be a descendant of a Sage and that's why he's able to control wind.

Like in BotW (and AoC), Revali was special because he developed his ability through hard work. He was the strongest/most skilled warrior the Rito had. That was the emphasis of his character. There was no talk of his history (like Zelda), his lineage (like Zelda/Sidon/Riju), or any devine rites (like Link/Zelda) or devine powers (like Urbosa/Daruk/Riju/Yunobo/Mipha).

Revali was just a guy. A guy who was good/strong enough to stand amongst essentially demi-gods in spite of his totally ordinary background.

Same with Teba. He was just a guy who heard the story of Revali and wanted to be strong like him. He looked up to Revali and his achievements so much, he became the hero his people needed.

We could've had that w/ Tulin. Make him have natural skill which he hones into the mastery he shows in the game. Someone who grew up w/ stories of the Great Master Revali. Someone who saw his own father, just a normal guy, rise up to help the chosen of the Goddess defeat the darkness around Vah Medoh. Tulin could have been someone so inspired by his community and family he became great. Someone the Sage could acknowledge and pass on his gift and title to despite not being related.

This also allows for the impulsive/prideful loner to humble teammate storyline to work too.

Idk, it just bothered me a little too much. The Rito of BotW (and AoC) never had any mention of lineage or devine intervention. It made them feel like they could achieve greatness instead of them being destined for it, regardless of who they are.

[scienceoftheidiot]

British Isles people : do not fuck with the standing stones !

The Auvergnats : so we built our house around the menhir. Around it. The menhir is stuck to the wall. It's the corner of our house. It's there. We didn't move it but we wanted to build our house so we did it. It's still standing.

[rustedleopard]

So you guys remember how after Hinawa was announced as dead, Flint was immediately tossed into jail after he (very understandably) lashes out in his grief. And then by the time he breaks out of jail (not released by a fellow Tazmillian, breaks out with a nail file), the service is already over and she's buried six feet under the dirt with no proper goodbye from her husband or even a glimpse at her or anything???

That was fucked up

[crowtrobotx]

Check Engine

Ya girl has completely gone off the deep end. Did someone order a Mechanic!Karl fic that’s just going to likely end up being filth? Well, too bad. You’re getting it. First chapter isn’t much aside from reader (GN) thirsting. (Never fear Chrysalis fans, this is but a temporary diversion into madness lol. My main focus is still that particular work.) Words: 3,533 Characters: Karl Heisenberg x Reader Warnings: Minors DNI - Eventual Smut and hysterically bad PWP to follow, provided everyone feeds my ego enough. Read on AO3

You had no idea what had possessed you to bring your car to this body shop, but you were simultaneously thanking and cursing whatever it had been that guided your hand and made you turn onto the lonely gravel driveway after work, finally deciding that you could no longer win the staring contest between yourself and the check engine light. The sign, the exterior - everything about this place had seen better days, but you didn’t have the money to fork over to a more reputable establishment and at the very least it was on the way to the little place you’d started renting just outside of the city limits. The yard surrounding the building proper was littered with rusted out cars and bikes that you were pretty sure couldn’t possibly be salvaged, and there was an unsettling abundance of signs taped to the window warning any trespassers of what might befall them if they tried anything sketchy. The faded logo on the lopsided sign by the roadside looked like it might have once been a stallion’s head framed by a metal horseshoe, but between the sun and pure neglect it had faded to something almost entirely unrecognizable. Still, every morning on the way to your new job you’d passed this place, and no one seemed to be actively being robbed or shot on the property. It was probably fine. You’d taken a cautious step out of your vehicle, the barking of an unseen dog giving you pause. If you hadn’t been feeling so bold that particular day, jacked up on a particularly adventurous coffee order, you might not have decided on a whim to pull in and would rather have called ahead and given the owner the courtesy of a heads-up. But, no. Today you threw caution to the wind and gave a middle finger to all the pragmatic thoughts that screeched at you to get back behind the wheel and peel out of there as fast as physics allowed. 

Having only lived in this town for a few months, you didn’t yet have the luxury of knowing what businesses you wanted to frequent or who was trustworthy or even where everything was. Hell, you didn’t even have friends here – you’d left everyone behind when you’d accepted your new position and decided to start over fresh. It might have simply been easier to jump on the highway and go looking for a more populated area, one that had a massive cineplex and ten Starbucks stores and a respectable car dealership. Your ego simply wouldn’t allow it. Your parents had questioned your choice to move to what was comparatively such a small town, but the promise of a quiet change of pace had been enough to entice you to take the plunge. You felt the thrill of rebellion coursing through your veins as you straightened your stance and made your way into what seemed to be the main entrance, a silent pep talk fueling your every step. 

Granted, nothing about this mechanic seemed quiet.

You’d heard the ancient radio blaring before you’d even parked your car, the tinny audio almost enough to make you want to overnight the owner something less outdated purely out of the goodness of your heart. Add on top of that the clangs and whirrs of the machinery that were to be expected, plus the periodic exclamations of FUCK and STUPID PIECE OF— and you were beginning to understand why the shop sat on the edge of town, with fields in every direction unmarred by the cookie cutter housing developments that tended to descend on these areas like locusts. It seemed that whoever operated this joint wasn’t very interested in mingling with the local populace - you hoped that meant that whatever they charged you wouldn’t completely bankrupt you, but you kept that little tidbit of information to yourself. As it turned out, the interior was much the same as the sight that had greeted you when you pulled up. A near cataclysmic pile of junk was present everywhere you looked - you could just make out the workspace in the back of the building that looked at least a little bit clear, but between the low light caused by multiple dead bulbs and the thick coat of grime that seemed to cover everything in sight, it didn’t look much more inviting. The voice you’d heard was coming from that general direction, it seemed, and you cleared your throat, hoping that whoever was back there would be alerted to your presence. Of course, no matter how many fake coughs you managed, you still found yourself standing alone but for the woman in the poster on the opposite wall, scantily clad and leaning seductively against the hood of a restored classic Chevy. Fuck you, Mom and Dad. I won’t be bested by a shady repair shop. A cautious ding of the call bell yielded no results. You ended up having to shout into the void, doing your best to sound polite while you hollered for someone, anyone, to help you. More than once. When the radio suddenly went silent and the intermittent curses ceased, you knew you’d been successful. You waited with baited breath until at last a man stalked up to the counter, his expression almost the comical opposite of the smiley face printed on the “Ring for service!” sign taped to the counter. “Yeah?” He looked less delighted at the prospect of a new customer and more irritated that you’d had the audacity to show up and offer him a job. You stared back, at first completely unsure what to make of him. He wasn’t very tall, but he was broad and struck and imposing figure nonetheless. His wiry gray hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, the flyaways zigzagging away from his face like thunderbolts, and his messy silvery beard was uneven and looked in desperate need of a trim. His forehead was lined with lines that told of a life not particularly easy, and his light blue eyes darted anxiously between you and the exit, as if he expected your presence to herald something terrible. If you had to guess his age - maybe 45? 50? He looked like the type of person who might have been older than he looked - there was a weariness to him that you got the feeling he might never admit to but was detectable all the same. The dark blue coveralls he wore were halfway undone, tied around his waist and leaving him in a stained, dirty tank top that presumably had been white at some point. Now it was threadbare and almost gray, but you weren’t complaining - it meant you got a peak at the dark chest hair peeking out over the brim, and his biceps that flexed beneath skin criss crossed with old and new scars. His undershirt also didn’t seem to properly fit him - it was particularly tight around the middle and seemed in danger of riding up at any moment and oh dear god you were not about to thirst over this complete stranger and his dad bod, what was wrong with you?

If you wouldn’t have felt like a character in a sitcom, you might have slapped yourself across the face to bring yourself back to reality. He raised a brow at you, hands busying themselves with a rag that seemed far too dirty to have any chance at removing any of the god-knew-what trapped beneath his nails. Somewhere in the back, an alarm rang - some machine protesting his lack of attention. Just as he drew a breath in to chastise you and no doubt ask if you were stupid or something, you managed to sputter out an explanation for your visit. “Hmm,” he peered out the window at your back toward where you’d left you car. “When did it start doing that?” “Just about halfway through my move here,” you said, your confidence waning with every passing moment. “I’m uh, I’m new to the area. I drive through here on my way to work and I thought–” “You thought you’d just show up without so much as calling and that I’d just be dying to fix that hunk of junk? That I’d be jumping for joy and kissing your ass for deciding to grace my shop with your presence?” You gaped wordlessly for a moment. “N-no. Of course not, I just–” The man barked a laugh, revealing straight but slightly tobacco-stained teeth. You hated that he was vaguely handsome - not in the way most people would consider, of course. In the way that someone with slight mental derangement and daddy issues might find attractive - lucky for him, the dry spell that had plagued you over the last year was playing into his favor. It was throwing you off of your game, undermining all of the conviction you’d built up before entering. “I’m just kidding, doll. Calm down,” he said, cocking his head thoughtfully. “Sheesh, unclench your ass. I know that model, got a good idea of what might be causing it. I can probably fix it within an hour but I’ve got this other piece of shit to get back to working order first. Owner’s a real bitch and I do not want to deal with it if it’s not done by closing - can you wait maybe a couple hours?” Relief flooded your body. A couple of hours out of your night was far less terrible than the scenarios your mind had thought up when you’d first noticed the issue. You’d imagined weeks without your car, paying not just for the repair but also for a rental or a rideshare service that would not only add to your expenses but also mean you had to make dreaded small talk with strangers on the way to and from work. “Yes - that’s fine,” you exhaled shakily. “Thank you.” He nodded. “Got a lovely little waiting area behind you - make yourself comfortable. You want a soda or some shit? I think they’re ah…. Expired, but not by much.” “No, that’s okay. I’ll just play on my phone or something, thank you.” After a gruff nod, the mechanic disappeared to the back once more, and the radio resumed its obnoxious screeching. You noticed, with some amusement, that the shouting seemed to have died down somewhat, though not entirely. He seemed to be doing his best to deliver on his version of customer service. Whatever, you thought, if he fixes the car tonight and I don’t have to sell a kidney to pay for it, he’s my new favorite person on earth. As it turned out, the “waiting area” was little more than a bench with a wobbly leg, an end table, and a television with no remote that appeared to be perpetually stuck on the History channel. It was mounted far too high on the wall for you to feel around for any buttons, but you weren’t overly bothered by it. You had a mostly full phone battery, and a three hour video essay to catch up on. Of course, as seemed to be your luck as of late, a problem immediately made itself known - there was no wifi here. You sighed. Really, you should have expected it - the service you got in your apartment was shoddy as it was, why would some backwoods auto body shop be any better? With a sigh, you glanced at the end table and noticed the collection of magazines provided for the entertainment of the guests unfortunate enough to get stuck here while waiting for their cars to emerge from the mysterious garage out back. There was an eclectic mix, and you decided to live a little and fish through the pile without looking, pulling out a copy of National Geographic and resigning yourself to whatever contents you found within. Your mind wandered while you read, as did your eyes. Left alone with your thoughts, you were forced to consider the possibility that you’d made a mistake. Your father probably would have been horrified to hear that you’d simply showed up somewhere without giving the business a thorough search online and reading reviews. The owner - at least, he acted like the owner - had seemed relatively normal, if a little odd, from your brief interaction. But who knew - it was also entirely possible that there was a reason this place sat so separate from the city center, and he might very well end up wearing your skin as a mask come morning. The way things had been going for you, you weren’t sure that was such a bad thing. Truthfully, your move had not been as serendipitous as the movies had made it seem. You had expected a wholly beneficial change, that by casting aside your old relationships and job and apartment you would finally shake the feeling of stagnation that had settled heavy on your shoulders these past few years. But instead, you’d been greeted with roadblock after roadblock. First, the movers had forgotten an entire truckload of your things. Then, the exceedingly polite but hugely inept lady in payroll had managed to make your first paycheck hit your account several weeks late. Add to that the general fish out of water feeling that was bound to accompany any move, and your car deciding to try to kick the bucket felt like the final nail in the coffin. You could not, under any circumstances, admit that perhaps you’d been unprepared. Giving up was out of the question. If this mechanic turned out to be a complete scam, it might break you. Your eyes flicked up periodically from the bright photographs of penguins in the Antarctic to take in the details of the small part of the shop you were privy to. There were scant few decorations - no real attempt to make any visitors feel at home. There wasn’t even a coffee machine, or a mini fridge with complimentary bottles of water. You could vaguely see into a side room that looked like it must have been the owner’s office. There were a few pictures on the wall of him with some fancy looking cars, a couple of certificates that indicated that the building and business had passed the most basic inspections for human habitation. And, dear lord, were there a lot of posters with terrible jokes on them. Your personal favorite was a metal sign peering at you from behind the service desk that read “Unattended children will be given candy and a puppy.” You couldn’t help the small smile playing on your lips. Most businesses would have plaques commemorating their customer service awards, or how they were voted on of the local Best of’s. This guy seemed like he was daring you, personally, to leave a Yelp review. You wondered briefly if he was single, then gave yourself a hard pinch on the wrist and reminded yourself that you needed to find a new therapist.

Time passed, at once both too quickly and unbearably slow. Every time you looked at your phone, it felt like it was playing a joke on you - more than once you considered standing up and hunting down the mechanic to tell him you’d just come back some other time, with the intention of not returning. But just when you’d mustered the courage to stand, he appeared as if summoned - a few locks of his hair had escaped the ponytail now and fell haphazardly near his shoulders. He was covered in a fine layer of sweat but flashed you an easy grin all the same. “Brought you that soda whether you want it or not. You looked so sad out here I could hardly stand it. I’m takin’ your car back now, should just be a little bit. Name’s Karl, by the way. It’s on the - it’s on the jumpsuit, but it’s hot as balls in here. You know how it is.” You accepted the lukewarm can with a quiet “thanks” before handing him your keys and stopping yourself before asking if he’d be so kind as to just run you over while he was at it. After he disappeared out of sight and you heard your car engine rev to life, you sighed and slumped in your seat, letting your head rest with a thump against the wall at your back. The drink in your hand felt like it weighed about 50 extra pounds. Now you were really deep in it. You couldn’t well tell him to just stop now that he was actually in the middle of working. But you did want that fucking light to stop glaring at you every time to fired it up - shit. You glanced at the can - the expiration date was six months ago. ….whatever. You switched between the magazine, a previously downloaded podcast on your phone, and staring thoughtlessly at the fuzzy television for the next twenty minutes. You were hungry, and tiredness from your day was starting to settle into your bones. All of the self-assuredness that you’d felt when you’d arrived had given way to loneliness, and with that, the feeling that perhaps you didn’t know nearly as much as you thought. The other problems you’d been ignoring started to loom large in your mind - the broken sink you had to call the front office about, the vinyl record of yours that had broken during the move, the fact that it felt like your new boss might have a vendetta against you. You glanced down again at the article it had taken you far too long to get through. You read over the same sentence once, twice, ten times without absorbing it. This was supposed to be your fresh start, your magical new leaf that would change everything. No more would you be trapped with jobs and partners and shitty landlords. You were going to prove to everyone that you were capable of doing something great on your own, that your judgment was sound and that you didn;t need anyone else to get by. Everywhere you went, you felt the sensation of otherness, for lack of a better word. The flyers pinned on the cork board at the grocery store were for clubs and events that didn’t involve you. People greeted one another by name except for you - oh, they were polite, but you still had the nagging feeling that you were just a novelty, something looking into the window from the outside that would never be invited in. Perhaps you hadn’t put as much thought into this massive overhaul of your life as you’d insisted. Perhaps everyone else had been right and it would have been smarter and more responsible to stay where you were - even if that meant standing still. Maybe it really had been as good as it would get, and you’d fucked it all up. Once again, Karl had impeccable timing. “So, funny story, turns out I might have lied.” He leaned easily against the doorframe, strong arms crossed in front of his chest.

You lowered the magazine and blinked at him owlishly. So engrossed had you been in reading about global political events that had long since come and gone that you’d almost forgotten you weren’t alone. “Oh?” A sinking feeling descended upon you. You’d tried to quash any thoughts of him pulling the classic repairman tactic of finding “extra” problems to charge you for while he was at work - you had told yourself you were smart enough to recognize it if it happened, but your spirits were so dampened at this point that you felt like just letting him do whatever the hell he wanted if it meant you could get out of here without a fight. “Don’t like the drink?” He nodded toward the unopened can at your side. He sounded, oddly, rather hurt.  He scratched his beard thoughtfully, eyes roaming you once before meeting your gaze. You almost melted into a puddle. Wow, you needed to get laid. “Oh!” You waved your hands disarmingly. “No! It’s not that, I’m just - it’s been a long day. I honestly forgot it was there. I’ll have it when I get home. You were saying something about my car?” “The car? Oh, yeah. Ain’t nothing wrong with that hunk of junk. Just a stupid communication issue in the electronics. Without gettin’ into too much detail, basically the thing that’s triggering your warning light is less an actual problem and more just something misfiring. I can reset it for you and have you on your way - just wanna double check and make sure I’m not gonna be wrong twice. Not usually wrong the first time, mind you - I’ve also had a long day if you don’t mind me saying.” He shuffled in place almost awkwardly before stretching, almost as if to feign indifference to your opinion. When he did so, much to your delight and horror the tank top did indeed ride up revealing a thick stretch of hair that made its way from below his belly button to - 

“Yeah, I can wait a little longer,” you said hastily, forcing the magazine in front of your face to hide the obvious and burning redness spreading up from your chest and burning a path across your cheeks.

[incorrect-fnaf-quotes]

The reason that Y/N discovers that Vamptrap has been with them—both as himself, and disguised, is simply because he chooses to reveal it.

Not immediately. But after a good few chats as Vamptrap, and as William, he’s just kind of like “You know what I should do?” and then waits for Y/N.

During a little encounter with Y/N as his disguised self, Vamptrap chooses to reveal himself then.

[fashionbugster]

animal crossing x fashion dreamer | phoebe

you can't keep a good bird down.

[rewrittenmindscape]

I was bored so I gave him his eyesight back

I didn't care enough to flip him properly