Latest Posts by elethiea - Page 2

Mischief & Madness - Chapter 2 (Loki x Reader)

As you plummeted toward the ground you screamed, unashamedly. If you were going to die you were going to do it like you’d lived. Loudly, and without a shred of dignity. Only, you didn’t die, a red blur slammed into you and suddenly you were rising through the air instead of freefalling.

“Hold on!” An unnaturally deep and unfamiliar voice commanded, making you look up at them in surprise.

“Spiderman?” You screeched, wrapping your arms around your saviour and holding on for dear life as he swung you away from the tower.

“I’ve got you… ma’am, miss, uh.. lady.” He stammered, bringing you to the ground.

“Thank you, thank you.” You gasped, putting your hands on your knees and panting to catch your breath.

“Are you alright? You’re bleeding!” He pointed out, his absurdly and clearly fake deep voice filled with worry.

You held your hand over your chest, trying to keep your heart from doing a cartoon leap out of it. You’d done plenty of stupid shit in your life, been in more than one sticky situation, but that was the closest brush with death you’d ever experienced. You did not enjoy it.

“I’m fine, just a few scratches, Loki threw me out of a window. Do me a favour, go garrotte the lanky bitch.” You snarled, glaring up at the tower.

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Has this been done yet?

-and you matter to me,i see you and love you.

Don't forget to take care of yourself please😚

just a heads up

if you’re an active follower of mine, i do recognize your username and/or icon. i smile when i see it in my activity. i get excited when you add funny tags to things. i get really happy when you reblog my op posts. so thank you, i appreciate you massively.

I was curious about yours too but i have had a feeling you were an slytherin too.Im an slytherin and mediator^^

I'm curious. Reblog with your hogwarts house and mbti personality.

[About to enter a haunted house]

Chopper: Law, you don’t believe in ghosts, do you?

Law: Do you mean, do I believe in dead people floating around and saying “oooooh”?

Law: Of course not.

Law: But I mean, an energy, a life force, a soul that, upon death, separates from the body and inhabits another plane, crying out to the living in a horrific wail of unbearable pain?

Law: Oh, absolutely.

Chopper: Law…

dealing with the worst case scenario

your condom breaks

you feel a lump on your breast

your friends are ignoring you

you’re stranded on an island 

you got rejected by a crush

you get into a car accident

you got stung by a bee/wasp

you got fired from your job

you’re in an earthquake

your tattoo gets infected

your house is on fire

you’re lost in the woods

you get arrested abroad

you get robbed

your partner cheated on you

you’re on a ship that’s sinking

you fall into ice

you’re stuck in an elevator

you hit a deer with your car

you have food poisoning

your pet passed away

you fall off of a horse

you or your friend has alcohol poisoning

you have toxic shock syndrome

your house has a gas leak

Official concept art for The Rise of Skywalker

my version of TLJ

First/ im late /second in my state it is(usually) too hot for that /third it was unusually cold yesterday and it was rainy my brain just exploded last week was extremly hot climate change is real its scary 🤔🤔

I have been waiting all year to post this.

Im sorry for saying this but i have never watched buzzfeed unsolved before please someone can explaine me this a little bit.I don't think i have ever seen that show in any channel in my country 😶

My murderer better not be an idiot because I want a buzzfeed unsolved episode about me

Well it was nice and didn't quite kill me by being mean and stuff and also it says a bit more than i have thought myself thank you.

have you ever wondered how cool you really are? well now here’s a quiz for it, it’d be cool if you took it and put your results in the tags!!

my love language is all of them bitch i have a big heart

day one of quarantine. i’ve gathered my most glamorous friends with the most shocking secrets to my secluded mansion. but there’s been a mysterious murder…….

That sounds familiar well we are going to see how many people are inspired by them in 20 years or so i wonder if i am one of them.

Men not being allowed to be emotional & rampant homophobia are the reasons men commit suicide 3.5x more than women… most men are given no outlet to feel feelings. To the point that they kill themselves.

Reblog this sigil to attract love into your life

It's scary how accurate this is.I don't know what to do-

gifted kid burnout things that no one seems to talk about:

the raw panic of hearing about your potential, positive or negative

a weird brand of imposter syndrome where you genuinely think you’ve fluked your way through every success and you’re gonna be Exposed as a Fraud

never having learned how to study and having no idea where to start now that you need to

reading college level books as a kid but being basically illiterate now

dismissing your struggles as irrelevant because other people have it harder and i should be smart enough to handle this

feeling like you’ve lost all control over your life (maybe manifesting into depression, anxiety and disordered eating in a grasp for control over something)

being unable to decide on a career path because you could have had everything, only to watch those opportunities disappear as you fail to commit

anyone please ask your crush out like this

I turn out to be a Mirrorverse AU as well |•-•|

hellooooo i made a quiz!! please take it if you want!! :)

me: i love this man

someone: that’s a fictional character, they’re not real

me: i love this nonexistent man

Coming into a fandom late

Story Time: Get a load of what happened to me at Starbucks today.

There’s a running joke among people who know me personally that I unwittingly go out in public with a sign on my forehead stating “I Am Non-Threatening. Come Talk To Me.” Because if there’s a chance a bizarre conversation with a total stranger is going to happen, I’m typically the person it happens to.

Some context: I have been pretty darn sick this week. (It’s not Coronavirus, don’t worry.) Since the work in my queue for my day job is comprised entirely of audio narration right now, and I currently sound like a waterlogged Demi Moore, I haven’t been able to work these last couple of days. As a result, I’ve been using my down time to knock out as much of Manu’s redesign as possible. Today, to ensure I didn’t spend the day languishing in sinus misery, I medicated the crap out of myself and took Manu to the Starbucks down the block from my son’s day care.

I hit the bathroom, then picked an empty table, but as soon as I sat down with my venti Comfort Tea and started tweaking the inks on my iPad, I felt the eyes of the man next to me looking over my shoulder.

When I looked up, he had his phone out. “I’m sorry,” he said (in a thick accent I couldn’t place geographically), “I don’t want to disturb. I notice you art. You are artist!”

I tried to smile. “Yes, I’m... Well, I’m trying to be,” I croaked.

He leaned in, like he was sharing a secret.

“I am artist, too.”

He stuck out his hand.

I gently took it, grateful for the bathroom trip I just took in which I washed the scourge off of my fingers.

“Can I?” he asked, holding his phone up.

“Take a picture? Uh... sure,” I said. It’s not like he would be able to steal Manu out from under me or anything, I figured. The panel I was tweaking was magnified out to Guam.

“I am artist. Architect and Designer,” he clarified while he steadied his phone over my iPad. “I am Ilker. What is your name?”

“I’m Venessa” I said, trying to be polite. This, I thought warily, is precisely how I get myself into trouble. I’m too damn nice.

“You know, I come to America twenty years ago from Turkey...”

I put down my stylus. This was going to be a while.

“I like Turkey,” he explained. “I like the country and I like the people. But I am artist. I am not... religious man.”

I nodded.

“I told my wife I was going to go to America and she said, “what are you going to do? You don’t have job! You don’t have money! No Visa!” And I said, “I am artist and architect. I will paint and sell my paintings.

“So I come to America alone. To New York City. I sit outside, and I paint. And people, they liked my paintings. They bought them. This one for $30, that one for $50.

“One day, a man comes over to me and he say, “I like your painting. I see you are also architect.” And he gives me his number and asks me to go to meeting at his office. Because he wants to offer me a job. He starts to talk about a building contract.

“I tell him I don’t know anything about contracts. I have no Visa. I am not American citizen. But he says, “That’s okay. I will take care of everything. You will have nothing to worry about.” And this man, he gave me a job. $173,000 a year. And my wife, he gave her a job too. She was project assistant. I bring her and my two daughters over from Turkey.”

“Wow,” I said, not fully believing the veracity of what sounded like a full-on immigration fairy tale.

“Here,” said Ilker, unlocking his phone and opening up his Facebook app. “I show you my work.” He paused and looked up at me. “I am interrupting. You don’t mind?”

At this point, I was invested. I had to see. Because whatever he was about to show me would either prove or disprove this yarn he was spinning. “Please,” I said, gesturing for him to go ahead.

He opened his photos and my jaw dropped. His work... was UNREAL.

“This is building I designed on Madison Ave.... And this one in Chelsea...”

Holy crap. I had just been to Chelsea with my sister last month on a trip to see a broadway show. I had crossed the intersection of the building he was, at this moment, telling me he designed.

He flipped through more buildings. These, he’d designed in Washington, DC. In Bethesda. In Arlington. All beautiful, streamlined, modern structures I had visited and parked my car in front of. He told me he did much of his concept work freehand. That he worked exclusively in natural media. His preferred media was pen, ink, watercolors, and chalks.

Between photos of his wife and daughters, he went on to show me photos from the RUSSIAN EXHIBITION OF HIS ARCHITECTURE ARTWORK.

Y’all, I was stunned. I couldn’t believe the talent I was sitting next to. Scattered among these gloriously rendered images of some of the most beautiful building concepts I’d ever seen were paintings of scenes in Central Park, the National Mall, and nudes from a life-drawing session he attends from time to time.

When he was done flipping through his phone, he looked at me and smiled. “I hope you don’t mind that I interrupt you. I show you all this because what you are doing is very good. And you should be encouraged. To draw is to make beauty.”

I nodded, a lump in my throat. “Thank you,” I managed. “Your work is astonishing. I don’t even know what to say. What is your name again?”

He held out his hand once more. “Ilker Kocahan,” he said. “I am getting more coffee. Can I get you one?”

I looked at my still-full venti cup. “No thank you. But here, please take my card.”

He held my dinky business card like I’d handed him a treasure and thanked me.

Then Ilker got his coffee, and left the coffee shop.

At some point in his ramblings he talked about America as a place of dreams. How he credits this country with helping him rise to the top of his field where he is now able to sell his paintings for $800-$1000 a piece now that he’s retired. My heart ached to hear him talk about that, knowing how our leadership’s positions on immigrants have taken such a dark and horrifying turn.

Imagine the buildings and museums and public places that would never have been if a business man in the park hadn’t lifted up a Turkish painter who spoke little English.

And now that painter was paying it forward on me.

I still feel pretty darn sick. I’ve still got body aches and a nose that has taken the rest of my face hostage.

But today was a really good day. And I just wanted to share it with you in case you are looking for reasons to keep drawing/painting/dancing/writing. It all counts and it is all good.

If you would like to see Ilker Kocohan’s work, please click here.

Archinect

ILKER KOCAHAN's Archinect profile

Ilker Kocahan holds a bachelor’s degree in Industrial Design with a minor in architecture from the University of Marmara, Faculty of Fine A

13 Things People Who Self-Harm Want You To Know

There are many stereotypes and myths out there about self-harming. The main one being, it is a call for attention and because of this many people don’t take those who self-harm seriously. In fact, there have been moments in which people dismiss other’s suffering simply because they are self-injuring. In other cases, people can also believe that by saying, “if you love me or if you are my friend. You’d stop hurting yourself”. This can’t be farther from the truth. Here are 13 things people who self-harm want you to know:

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I made a quiz, its 36 questions, and y’all, I play-tested this, I got feedback, I hyper-analyzed, its good. I wasn’t like, I was gonna just let hogwarts houses die but apparently y’all be like,,, not knowing what a slytherin or hufflepuff is no shade and if all these quizzes are gonna ask you this question anyways: this is it. Idiot tested. Idiot approved

take it here! or copy paste if you need to https://uquiz.com/oz0xOu

No one can convince me this hasn't happened🕷

Hisoka: So here's the tea.

Chrollo: For the last time, it's called a police report.

Hisoka: Do you want the tea or not?

the fact that chrollo is polite to melody is astounding