Latest Posts by nuffintop - Page 2

The Jealous Model

Just imagine Adrien experiencing both waves of pride and jealousy, while he watches Luka perform on stage. Happy that he can hear the song Luka worked months for, get the attention it deserves, screaming along with the crowd, while Nino shakes his shoulder, while he repeats in his mind: That's my fucking boyfriend!

Then comes the attention. The fans that would meet him afterwards. Luka would smile towards him him sadly, before turning to take a picture with another fan. Adrien was used to being on the receiving end of many fan signings. He knew how tiring it was. But, he would be lying if he said he wasn't jealous. He wanted to lay over Luka's back like a cat, and hiss at everyone. But he wouldn't. That still didn't stop him form sulking as Luka walked him home.

Adrien's just a silently, jealous, pouty boyfriend.

"They're Just Friends."

Adrien, being carried off by Luka: Luka? What are you doing?

Luka: you.

Adrien:

Luka: Marinette, told me to do what I love, I'm just taking her advice.

Continues to carry a very flustered, scared Adrien, past his gaggle of fangirls

Extra:

Marinette:

Kagami: stares.

Marinette:

Kagami: stares.

Marinette: Um, Kagami?

Kagami:

Marinette: please, say something.

Kagami: You never did to Adrien, and hoped he would like you

Marinette: I--

Kagami: I'm just using your method

Marinette: To get who--? Adrien's with Luka, and--

Kagami, pulls Marinette down by her collar, smiling:

Marinette: ...oh, Me!

"You mean to tell me, I whored myself out for attention and you give me nothing!?"

--Asmodeus to Solomon, probably.

Kindly, step on me?

I have come to the realization that I have not shown enough love this week. Thus, I shall proceed to simp.

Women <3333333!

That's the post.

Rwby Rants

Ruby, gushing about Wiess: My girlfriends Wiess-fucking-Schnee, she would freeze all of you with zero hesitation. She has tried to stab me many times! Her Semblance is out of this world!

Emerald and Blake about to let go of some suppressed rage:

Emerald: Yeah? Well, mine leaves for long periods of time, coming back with a bottle of issues, emotional manipulation and the autumn maidens power, and a chick with an umbrella!

Blake: Bitch, my girlfriend has anger issues, using her prosthetic as a weapon to make things go KABOOM!

Qrow: My boyfriends dead.

I just stopped trying to run away :D

Mc: I have an unhealthy attraction to you, I should stop --

Mammon: Really? My Human.

Mc: I should stop trying to fight it. Want to go annoy Belphy?

Everyone is basically my Yellow!

procrastinating sucks. Everyone knows this. What sucks is having your entire workload glare at you, while you try so fucking hard to ignore them, making yet another playlist for everyone you care about, when your music taste is basically non-existent. But will I continue to do it? yes.

Doing my forgotten work is the future, sad me's problem <3.

Yang and Blake are my babies

My angsty head-canon is that Blake still, even after volume 6, and after getting rid of Adam, continued to blame herself for what happened to Yang. To the point where, whenever they aren't busy saving Remnant and have time to themselves, Yang goes out to train, Blake follows after her. She lays down in an area where she can watch Yang; hear her sounds, the laughs she lets out when she, idk, uses brute force to cut down a tree! Her blonde her tied up for those few seconds. Red eyes glowing. Blakes' book would be forgotten, until Yang turns around to look at her, eyebrow raised; childish grin on her face. Blake's eyes drift down, her ears twitch.

She wouldn't look back up at her, but she would remember the moment they met. Yang asking her name, introducing herself, giving her hand out to shake. She would remember how she tried to ignore her, how dismissive she was, and how warm her hand felt. Blake would look up, staring at Yang, her hands, the way she moves with no hesitation, the sound of her punches. While her ears press against her head, she would stare, feeling guilty, knowing that Yang didn't blame her.

But each time she watched her train, she would think of the day she willingly refused to grasp her hand in her own. How she lost a single happy memory with her. I imagine when it gets that bad, Blake would walk over to Yang -- whose adrenaline at that point is through the roof, chest heaving, covered in sweat, hair flowing down her back in a nest of tangles. Saying nothing, Blake would stand in front of her, till Yang, smiles with complete joy, dragging Blake closer to her by her waist, pressing her hand against her dark hair. Breathing against her hair, while her heart and breathing rate calms down. While Blake wastes no time, hugging her back, promising to never let go of her.

"I'd watch the world burn, knowing that none of the flames would dare to touch me. Why would they consume a monster who doesn't fear fire? They'd run, bringing me along with them, bursts of orange, red and gold, would cover the sky; touched by the wings drawn on my back. Fire in my hand, I'd walk past the rubble, angry that this moment of joy would end."

--I'm totally sane.

"She healed him, replacing his heart with hers. He left, leaving behind a broken, wounded marionette. Never to return."

--This Isn't how It Ends

His arms were my home; in his eyes I saw stars, a million light years away from me. He too has been taken from me, reaching heights I can only dream to reach. But why would I leave Earth when your body lays here besides me? When dreaming is worthless when my hand no longer holds yours. Why should I live on when you're the only star I wish to see. Open your eyes for me, one last time. One last time. Let me see the jewels reflected in your eyes -- staring only at me.

The stars Tell Their Story 

Cruel Monsters

Locked up from the moment he was born; from the moment his cries deafened the doctor's ears, stripped of all his rights since the day he could walk: His names, his possessions, his very identity, stolen. His existence erased by those sworn to look after him. They sealed him away in the darkest corner of the mansion. The maids, the butlers, the younger children were told the third floor was cursed. No one ever dared to look for him. His cries were known to be the cursed singing of a banshee, the door rattling, labelled the persistent attacks of a vengeful demon. He became labelled a malevolent phantom. Forgotten as the years went by

That was the life of Ares Vaughn-Fallen.

Love. Kindness. Warmth, were feelings experienced only in books. Anger. Hatred. Sadness -- those were the emotions which spilled from the pages of writing, down the bleeding walls, sliding up his body; drowning him in its grasp.

He knew nothing except the feeling of the hard mattress pressing against his back. His eyes knew no colour except the white of the walls around him, a shade darkened by the black curtains that covered the windows, blocking his source of light. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen the sky. Felt the sun's rays blinding him. He remembered falling asleep, smelling his rotting flesh. He didn’t think he would miss the plain walls, the haunting curtains, but as his eyes refused to open, felt his physical body get dragged out with little care, he wished to escape the dark world forced upon him. A cold, unrelenting darkness.

His routine changed.

A scream woke him from his slumber. The darkness had gone. As his eyes locked with those of his saviour, he remembered how bright the sun truly was.