AnasAbdin
if i look back, i am lost
todays bird
Origami Around
Acquired Stardust
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
dirt enthusiast
Discoholic 🪩
art blog(derogatory)
shark vs the universe
★
tumblr dot com
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
d e v o n
Show & Tell
DEAR READER
pixel skylines
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
seen from Malaysia
seen from Jordan
seen from Jordan
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from South Korea
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
@pagautaskadras
Dressing up as Edwin on Halloween was probably the best thing ever. Not like he brought the costume from Scotland, no, not at all. And he certainly wasn't too enthusiastic over anything concerning Holy Knight. Nope.
He swooshes his coat dramatically before the mirror and, deciding he looks downright awesome, heads out to the Halloween party he was invited to by a fellow fencing club member.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
collab with tha cooliest senpai Geta (i did the lines and he did the coloring)
Elliot is a total White Boy and can’t use chopsticks properly
The whole entire time the raven was standing off to the side scanning the few customers within the vicinity of the bakery. The day proved to be a rather slow one, going by at its own pace without rushing by as the hands on the clock hanging on the side wall continued to stick by, second by second, minute by minute, and hour by hour. Only a few people ever worked as employees in the shop, so typically work hours went from afternoon to dusk for a good few of the workers, as long as they had the time off of say school or other part-time jobs. That was when gold hues landed upon a figure seated a ways off with a book rested on top of his head. Brows knitted together in almost curiosity yet more confused than anything else.
Gilbert knew better than to just bother someone, especially considering he was working at the present time while the figure dosing off to the side was just… dosing. No harm, no foul in that, but wouldn’t it be far more comfortable to perhaps dose back at his home or apartment or wherever he happened to be staying than in a chair off to the side in a small bakery shop? It made far more sense, at least to the raven-haired man. Brushing his hands off a good few times, he walked out and around to approach the napping person. In the back of his mind, the male knew fully well this might not turn out so great, but the least he could do was be a little sincere to try to help someone out, especially if they weren’t staying here to eat and chat. All customers were to be shown hospitality no matter how they acted [against Gil’s better judgement], but this was a little much. “Excuse me——" the first words to slip from his lips in an attempt to get his attention.
“Excuse me——"
Someone woke Elliot up. He vaguely wondered what a book was doing on his face for a few seconds, then remembered. The bakery, right. The boring book, of course. The voice?
Sitting up more straight now, Elliot took the novel and put it down on the table. One of the workers, huh. He was somewhat thankful to the guy, seeing one of those weird dreams were starting again. They had doubled in their frequency ever since coming to Reveille. He decided it was because of the stress he experienced while moving so far away from home.
"Yes? Is it closing time or something?" he asked the tall person (waiter? cashier?) while glancing through the window. It certainly was dark, the street lamps already turned on--- wait, for how long had he fallen asleep?
God, he hoped he wasn't late to the last bus that could take him to Latowidge. The darn thing just had to have such a terrible schedule. He didn't know any taxi numbers yet, nor how to get back by foot. What Elliot couldn't boast about was his memory, maps specifically.
He glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. There wasn't a possibility it wasn't showing the right time, huh?
She has a mind to ignore the first click. It could be a menagerie of things, of insects chirping, of shoes on pavement, of crushing hard beetles under her shoes. Certainly there are plenty of things that the small click could have been. Once, she is inclined to dismiss it, an carry on her way. Twice, and she is quite less inclined. She keeps her hood so that it well cloaks her face, and scans her eyes around in irritation. Miranda doesn’t have long to wait until her inquiry is answered in its own abrasive manner.
It is a boy, not quite a man yet, but close. Very close. Either his shoulder have some room for expansion, or he will never reach his potential. For just a moment, she regrets that it is cold outside, and that he is well covered for the weather. She has always had a fondness for appraising bodies, but she allows that to dwindle in the recesses of her mind. It is not the time, she chides.
The click is from the camera, the cute little contraption box, so feared by those most vain. It is far too late for him to be a tourist snapping photos, so she assumes that he perhaps is an artist. Judging from his clothing, he is neither well acclaimed, nor starving, but those are both unimportant assumptions. She is getting off subject.
She turns away from the boy, and crisply walks in the opposite direction. Miranda has no need, or want, to face the child tonight, but she has plastered the pale image of his face and his not-yet-manly shoulders into the wall of her mind. Miranda tells herself, that the next time, she will make sure he has less clothes, so that she can get a real idea of his shape, the muscles under his skin. Perhaps he a nice neck, hidden under the layers of clothing meant to repel the cold. All for another day, she tells herself. Sometime soon.
The dark figure disappears from his sight, almost as if it were a ghost. Quite an unnerving thought- but Elliot never believed in ghost stories. If it were a real being, you could touch it. That's the only criteria.
Elliot stands around for a bit near th gates. Not for the hope of more shots, not because he doesn't know what to do. The boy can't decide on what to think of this strange happening- between unimportant and suspicious, it's a tough choice.
He decides to mull over it later. The watch on his wrist shows it's well past midnight, and he has several appointments tomorrow. Elliot doesn't want to look like one of those zombie-like students, since it has only been a month. A cup of tea is a very tempting thought as well. He turns off his camera and heads back, the memories of this evening already slowly drifting away from his head.
-End-
Leo ignored that comment and still hung around, watching the other student shift around, looking for something. Although he could make out a shape that he had only seen in movies.
Wait a minute…
He’s heard of sword collecting, but this is a school right? Granted Leo hadn’t fully scanned all the clubs and extra classes so swordsmanship might be in there somewhere, probably. He had to admit he was a tad jealous and wondered where this guy found a real sword.
The teen leaned in far too close over the stranger’s shoulder, he just had to take a better look.
"Isn’t something like that illegal?"
Putting everything back to the bag, Elliot felt rather unhappy with this. The bag's condition was not more important than the fact it got ripped so easily was troubling. And I got it only recently too! He remembered his sister's proud face when she gave it to him- it was probably difficult to decide on one (not that it actually made a huge difference but he kept quiet).
What, the guy still didn't get the memo? And being so nosy, who did he think he was? Elliot turned his head to get a better look at the--
Well, he did get a better look. If smashing his forehead into the stranger's face meant something like that.
What the hell!! Why was he so close!?? Elliot should've known the guy's voice was too close to not be near him, but he expected him to be looking over his shoulder the least.
"What's your problem?" Elliot screeched. His head throbbed painfully.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
The noise that came from her phone had earned her a few stares from a couple of people. Quietly she apologizes to some in her flustered state.
It just so happened that one of the customers had given her the piece of his mind.
"I’m so——"
She paused. Her emerald eyes grew a little bigger when she saw him. His voice. His face. The way he speaks. Everything is all so familiar about him as if she had already met him. That couldn’t be right.
You should feel embarrassed, Ad-
Ad- … He was about to say her name which surprises her more. Ada gripped the handle of her basket with the books settled at the bottom. It was then when she realized that he was about to leave.
"Wait!"
The blonde girl called out to him. Running after a stranger who just scolded her.
A mental slap will be enough, he decides. That was really awkward. And the first time something like that happened as well. The name still tingled in his brain, annoying Elliot further more. There was no possibility he could've known her. None at all.
Is she actually chasing him? What does she want from him- an argument over the phone? Elliot certainly can't think of another reason. He turns to the cashier counter and puts his books down. He'll probably come back here later instead.
"What do you want?" he sharply addresses the words towards the girl. Not his first argument, and definitely not his last one. "If you don't want to get scolded, you should think about such things before going anywhere!"
//GOD GOD GOD sorry for disappearing for so long, my computer crashed and it had to be taken away in order to be fixed, I couldn't even inform anyone because my phone for some reason doesn't allow me to use internet... I'M GOING TO ANSWER EVERY THREAD NOW AND HOPE YOU FORGIVE ME
The calming atmosphere of the small bakery was pleasant. Too pleasant, Elliot thought as he yawned and tried to focus his attention back to the book in his hands. An essay was due next week, and the main source of it was supposed to be this particular novel. He actually had to buy it since other students had been quicker at snatching all the copies the university's library had. He vaguely considered giving it away as soon as he was done with this- Elliot hadn't read anything so boring since last year.
Surely he could rest a bit? There were only a few chapters left. He didn't catch himself reading the same sentence all over again for a few minutes now. Another enormous yawn, and Elliot decided to rest the book across his face for a bit. It was a bit heavy, but blocked out the gentle light perfectly. Not a few seconds later, he was already asleep.
"Yes, of course you can!" She tells him, and makes her way over to the boy, letting the door to the shop close itself behind her. Since opening the shop she’d learned to always keep a towel or two on her at all times, a habit that is especially handy now as she ruffles through the pockets of her apron and pulls out a handkerchief.
She hands it to him, taking note of how much the blood has spread. It’s over his shirt now, as well as smeared across his face. It looks like a problem to Sharon, but the boy waves it off as if it were nothing. Sharon wonders exactly how many times he’s gone through this exact situation before.
"Why don’t you come inside so I can help you clean up?" She asks, masking her concern with a smile and a light touch to his shoulder. At the very least, she could find something to cover the blood stains with, and maybe offer him a drink to sooth his nerves.
"Is it really fine for me to use this?" Elliot asks while taking the handkerchief- it's one of those washable ones, and blood isn't something easy to take out from fabric. But the stream manages to get into his mouth, so he quickly presses it to his nose.
He only nods at the suggestion, mentally kicking himself for beginning this so badly. The girl probably thinks he's a clumsy wreck. No wonder he hasn't had any luck finding a job so far. He also takes a note of consciously checking which way the door opens every time from now on.
Cameras were always something that fascinated him, although he has never taken time to study photography techniques or anything of sort. The most experience he has is knowing the basic commands to manage his Canon semi-professional camera he owns for years, and even so there are times he got confused adjusting it.
Watching the other filming, there is the temptation to watch what the guy is doing so he can maybe learn something. And with that being so, the blond awkwardly places himself sitting at the very same bench the guy was, silently and occasionally glancing at the camera a few times a minute.
He wants to say something, of course, but he isn’t sure of what to say. The stranger seemed to be a bit grumpy, so perhaps it would be smart of him to explain that he just wants to learn before the other shooed him away or left. But it could be even worst if he interrupted the filming of whatever (well, it didn’t seem that filming people walking was exciting, but maybe that was the idea — to make a Woody Allen kind of movie).
Just gonna stand there until he figures out something to do.
Alright, so if I stop it here and film something there, that only leaves editing at home.. Finally that was something Elliot can understand. He reaches out and clicks the pause button.
Normally, being irritated with people required something said from their side first to get him riled up. But, since Elliot was pretty nervous while filming for the first time, it was easy to get annoyed with the blond guy that has kept watching him work for a few minutes now.
He closes his book with a loud CLAP and stuffs it into his bag. "What do you want?" it comes out almost like a growl.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
What do students majoring in filming even do on their free time? Try and actually use a camera first, of course. Not that they didn't learn how to use it as one of the basics in a class, of course. But it seemed as if you were supposed to learn everything else by yourself. That is why, on a Saturday morning, Elliot found himself sitting on a bench in his university's campus, a book in one hand, a camera standing right before him, and a relatively hot cup of tea between his thighs.
"I never had this much trouble figuring out my Nikon..." he cusses under his breath a few times, then adjusts the camera again and tries to record something for the first time in his university career. It's just some students passing by, but it's fine for now. He takes a sip out of his cup and mildly watches the movement in the screen.
Miranda takes a deep breath of the crisp autumn air, the scent of freshly disturbed earth lingers in her nostrils, and she calmly exhales. The trunk in her left had looks antique, like an old hat trunk her grandmother might have packed, but it is neither old, nor for things that go on heads. Miranda has always liked things that looked old, and were not. She had this particular bag commissioned by one of the few families that still create custom trunks, and this one is perhaps her favorite. Not because of the golden name plate, nor the intricate needle point that adorns the green fabric of the trunk’s body, nor the five separate locking mechanisms within it. All of these things are important of course, but this is not why the trunk is Miranda’s favorite, out of the many she has collected -one of many passing hobbies of collecting various odds and ends and knicks and knacks.
The trunk is where she keeps her most precious cargo, where it sits, perfectly still and secure, while she casually returns to her mansion outside of Reveille. This is the trunk she keeps, specifically, for her heads. Because, to be quite frank, she is very fond of heads; how they look when they’ve been removed from the body, how the skin starts to rot, how the eyes fester with maggots, how the lips droop, and show off the teeth.
But she is getting off the subject. Her trunk is for heads, be they properly acquired -as in donated for scientific pursuits- or, obtained; her trunk is for heads. The acquisition of heads, the preservation of heads, and, of course, for keeping her secrets, secret.
But alas, not may are fond of donating their heads to science. Most specimens prefer to keep theirs, even after death. This is a concept, that Miranda will never understand. Or, well, perhaps it is better stated that it is a concept she will never sympathize with, for heads are far to interesting to let them sit in the ground, rotting. Most people seem to think that their heads are more interesting alive, and Miranda can perhaps understand that point of view, even if it is something she does not agree with.
Still, the state of things leaves her with a few potential dilemmas, of which Miranda is amply able to solve on her own, for she has a strong pair of arms, and is exceptionally skilled with tools of the sharp variety. Miranda is highly capable of providing herself, with plenty of ample specimens, not all of them through accepted, legal channels though.
So on nights when it is ideal, when it is chilly, but not too cold, when it is pleasant, but not too hot, she travels with her trunk, and her cape, to one of the many cemeteries in Revielle. She is always quick in her work, years of such tasks have given her an edge of speed, and her money and connections have given her the excuse to visit as many funerals as she likes. At the point where she currently stands, taking in the earthy smell lingering in the air, Miranda has a very good map of just about every cemetery in Revielle.
She lets her shoulder raise, and fall, her head falling into a small nod as she does. She takes a few steps outside of the hallowed ground, and back onto dark pavement, pushing the black iron gate out of her way. It squeaks in the quiet night, but Miranda pays it no mind, as she taps her boots on the pavement, relieving them of any excess dirt still lingering in the crevices of her soul.
The cool, fresh air of the night settles in. Those who still haven't gotten used to the idea of a chilly time shiver alone, in pairs, in groups. The autumn is a very deceitful season- it passes through the masses and leaves them with colds and glum faces. Those who are smarter than to leave without at least a jacket are often spared glances both sour and envious.
Small puffs of visible breath are present as well. It is one of the things Elliot likes to take photos of. He himself doesn't think it's too cold, but that might be just because his blood might just be literally hot. Still, he has a jacket and a scarf on just in case. Missing classes while being a student seemed to deal far more severe damage than in high school, and he wasn't going to take any chances.
As almost always, Elliot has his camera ready in his hands. A slight fog that settled in as the evening came to its end seemed like a perfect setting for some new additions to his Reveille collection (a messy folder he kept putting off on sorting out). Some people didn't seem exactly happy with being photographed though, and so he retreats further away from the center of the city.
Some signs are indicating there is supposed to be a historical cemetery nearby, and he decides to check it out. Of course, taking pictures of a sacred place is nothing of the sorts he would do, but Elliot is still curious enough to head off towards where the arrow pointed.
It seems like he is not the only visitor tonight though. Just as he turns left, he sees a cloaked person enter the cemetery through the black metal gates.
Well that seems very mysterious. He quickly takes a picture of it, and looks at the screen. It comes out better looking than he thought. Quiet bells are ringing inside of him, the same rhythm which only ever means Danger, Danger. Still, Elliot paces towards the gates, looking around. The figure is moving through the fog, but who knows where it's going. He takes a picture again.
"Hey, what are you doing there?" he finds himself saying loudly. Well, if that is accidentally a serial murderer, Elliot can at least safely know his attitude really is very unsuitable for living. At least he can hear some voices nearby. It's somehow reassuring.
Leo had just finished moving in. It took a lot of effort, struggle, and items tumbling down the staircase to get it done right. Although Leo could have gone about it the lazy way and waited until the last minute, sometimes he felt really good about getting all this stuff done and relaxing. He was very reliable when he put his mind to it.
There was also something calming about unpacking and placing possessions in a new space. Putting up posters on walls he had never seen before was very satisfying.
The teen left for a bit to get a cup of tea, considering he didn’t have any real food items yet. Leo had gotten lost in his thoughts and somehow missed a small ripping sound that went through the air. Someone just a bit in front of him knelt down and began going through their items.
Ever the curious type, Leo came up behind him, attempting to peer over this person’s shoulder. If they dropped something, it might be better if two people searched after all.
"Hm… Do you need help?"
Even after inspecting every inch of his clothing, Elliot still couldn't find the traitorous hole that had supposedly been done. It just had to be there, right? Maybe he was just out of focus.
Someone behind him seemed to be offering their assistance, but Elliot didn't even turn his head. He should've done this in his room, where there was no possibility of encountering another person.
"No." He pulled his hand out of one of the sleeves of the jacket and neatly folded it. This method didn't work as well.
But maybe there was some fabric hanging on his saber- Elliot decided to check before shrugging it off. And, just as he thought, the tip was still hanging on to a blue thread coming from his bag.
"Well, this isn't that bad," he said to himself quietly.
It’s unavoidable. He should have known. The rain-stains along his open window are omens.
Regretfully: “I’ll help you.” The boxes are heavy. Oswald feels his goodwill weakening even if some stubborn thing in him insists on asking, “Which building are you looking for?”
He quietly prays his Xbox didn't take any damage. Or any of his electronic devices, for that matter. Or those plates and cups his dad forced to take together with him.
"Just handle them carefully." He nudges one of the boxes with his shoulder to a more comfortable position. "I think it's the first one- second floor, room... 28?"
Nothing is better than almost finishing moving in- all big boxes were in his dorm room- a single none the less, as Elliot was vigilant about reserving one right at the start.
He was making the final round from the hotel to his dorm, carrying things like his laptop, other minimal things and, of course, his fencing equipment. At Latowidge, a fencing club existed, and Elliot had already signed up for it.
Unfortunately, just a few feet away from his dorm room, something uncomfortably moved in the sports bag. The quiet sound of something ripping made Elliot stop.
"Don't tell me it's my pants..." Instead of heading off right into his room, took the bag off his shoulder and knelt on the ground. He took out most of the things and put them next to him, then examined the white clothing.
"I could swear I heard something ripping."
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
"Archaeology… Sociology…" muttering the words out of her mouth. Ada searched in the bookstore for the books she might need to use for this new school year. Half excited to meet new friends, new people that she might encounter and the courses she will take this term. However, she also wished that summer lasted a little longer. She couldn’t bear to imagine that she will have to leave home again. She loved that old big house they’re living in. The one that her father inherited from his parents, her grandparents. She will miss going to the basement, where she cleans few of the objects that was displayed there.
The sound of her alarm suddenly went off and snapped her out of her small world inside her mind. Scrambling to get her phone, she pulled it from the pocket of her jeans and pressed the stop button. A sigh came out. It was merely a matter of minutes before she found one of the books she ought to buy.
Getting the right textbooks yourself was an unusual experience for Elliot. He came into one particular bookstore with a list, but had only managed to find two so far.
"'Cinematic Storytelling', that's not it..." he mumbled to himself, glancing at his phone again. There were so many textbooks in this area it wasn't easy to find a particular thing.
A loud sound from his right startled Elliot. He turned his head to see a blonde girl clumsily trying to silence her phone.
"Can't you try and be more considerate of your surroundings?" the words slipped out of his mouth themselves. "You should feel embarrassed, Ad-"
What?
He snapped his mouth shut before he could say something completely dumb. Ada? Where did that come from? Did he confuse her with someone? He doesn't even know an Ada! Is that even a name!?
"Turn the sound off the next time!" he finally spat out and returned to searching for his textbooks.
"Just fine," he echoes. He picks up the fallen box and considers its weight for a moment. Then Oswald walks briskly after the boy’s retreating figure and balances the box on top of his tower.
"I’ll leave you to it, then."
Elliot relaxes his face once the stranger approaches with the box.
"Tha-"
The upper box wobbles for a second, then falls down bringing three other boxes together with it. He stares at them, trying to process what just happened.
Is this guy a walking disaster or something?
