"Can I have this dance?"

world's most oblivious wingman

took a small break to play around with making my twi in EQ style and did some slight redesigns!

date nite

Sometimes you truly do forget and believe you are just an ordinary woman in the world and then you have a conservation with Cis Heterosexual Jessica From Work and it comes up offhandedly that you don't own any makeup and she looks at you like you've just confessed to being hannibal lector

I'm not the one now thinking about Malleus dancing with Yuu all night during Masquerade because they blabbed about how in their world they didn't get a chance to dance at the prom

Just because my D.U.I. made my community service mandatory, doesn't mean that I was any less committed.

The Vampire Diaries S1 E19 Miss Mystic Falls

one gifset per episode 19/171

Wore an extremely goth evening gown to an event tonight and someone came up to me and said i had nadja vibes, i think thats the proudest moment of my life

The fact that people have parents that weren’t born in the late 60s (or early 70s) is so odd to me like that is THE parent age. Like wdym your parents were born in the 1980s and ur my age?? That’s actually insane wtf. Parents were not meant to be in high school in the 2000s…

Summer Court Female Fashion

A while ago, I made a post about how I don't like that the fashion in acotar is so lackluster so I imagined the Male Fashion in the summer court as West/South African inspired for Tarquin. Here is the female counterpart with Cresseida in mind

Casual Fits

Evening/ Court attire

Beachwear

Jewelry and accessoires

(wips) i. love. drawing. clothes.

i need to shop for prom dressessssss why are prom dresses always so fucking ugly but like theres got to be one good option right ? seriously do these designers do prom dresses with their eyes closed why are they so fucking tacky all the time

I dream of death most nights. Normally, it doesn't follow me into waking, but I just had a rather unsettling one about the end of the world at Lake Superior.

We were up there for a girls' weekend, in a big sprawling rented house, an old spindly thing perched on the rocky coast with a long dock protruding out from underneath and more balconies than would have been possible. Some of the other women on the trip--none of whom were distinct to me as real people, just ambiguous people that were dream-familiar--had babies or toddlers. We were all out swimming, competing to get across the bay and back fastest, the way my brothers and I used to as kids, and then suddenly I was standing on the grass, looking up at a clear sky that was, somehow, twisting long dark strands downwards into a tornado.

No sirens were going off, just all of us shouting at each other and the neighbors, trying to figure out if we should shelter in the basement of this twisted ancient house which was certain to be hit, or if we should run. Some of us went for the basement; others ran for the rocky hills and forests. I wound up with an infant in my arms and his mother holding a toddler nearby. I don't dream of babies; I can't think of a single other dream I've ever had with a baby in it and maybe that's because I dream them wrong. None of the babies cried. None of them panicked. They watched the sky with us from the bowels of this house, through windows and balconies and impossible dream-architecture, and spoke in whole sentences things I don't remember.

Tornadoes are loud. I've never been that close to one, waking, but I remember the roar of a house burning down so that's what it sounded like to me. It ate into the house, and the house broke but didn't fall. We couldn't tell where exactly it was; couldn't tell if we should get away or hold steady, but then the torn electricals began to spark fires. We ran out the only route we had--the long wooden dock which extended deep into the bay. As we ran we could see the other tornadoes touching down, the sky directly overhead now a boiling low ceiling of dark clouds, but with pale skies on the horizon over the Lake, where the sun was setting. We huddled on the end of the dock, watching fires break out where the tornadoes passed. One of the babies said something and we turned to look at the deep black waters of the Lake. The ships--huge cruise ships and cargo haulers, tiny in the distance--heaved downwards and then up, downwards and then up, as though in a wave pool. Not the kind of breaking waves you get during heavy storms on deep water; rolling hills of water, the kind of thing that happens when something deep below the surface is heaving up and down. Superior is hundred and hundreds of feet deep; to move the surface of the water from the depth would take something unspeakably massive, living in the frigid depths where not even the dead rot.

The rolling hill-waves came towards us, pulling down the bay and rising higher than the houses, never breaking, and we clung to the dock as they came, no way to get back to land as the house at the end of the dock burned and more and more tornadoes touched down. We knew there was nothing to be done.

And then I woke up.

Me, fondly remembering my playthroughs of FFVII, VIII, IX, X, X-2, and XII: I don't need more blogs I don't need more blogs I don't need more blogs I do --

Though if I did RP as anyone, it'd hands-down be Beatrix from IX.

venting in tags about gender n shit (long as hell) (u can comment and talk 2 me as always :3)

it's ALISON!