Imb… soft…… 🥺
Imb… soft…… 🥺
GUYS I JUST MADE MY FIRST PHOTOSHOP GIF AND IT LOOKS SO GOOD WOW IM SO EXCITEDDD
the new ayumu ur….😭😭 I only have enough for 2 rolls!!
how dare my therapist say I am “in denial” and “ignoring my worries.” pfft. I don’t do that? never. nope. not at all.
A DRUMMER I LOOK UP TO FOLLOWED ME ON INSTAGRAM IM LOSING IT
My phone has officially died :/ I can’t use it unless it’s plugged in and even then it glitches and turns itself off. I guess it is time I update but not looking forward to the cost
MMMM JUST FINISHED MAG 170 (IM KNOW IM BEHIND) BUT OH MY GOD
when brennan said leviathan i literally gasped so loud my mom asked if i was ok
um stan king? i love him 🙈 stoopid fairy boy make my head go durrr
hh fuck,, hawks….
Day one down the drain! Time to scream into the abyss (aesthetically, of course)
Short story: The Night Watch (Assassin’s Creed: Syndicate).
Character(s): Jacob Frye, Florence Bennett (OC).
London was silent, too silent for the late Wednesday night. Normally, batches and batches of intoxicated men and women, awkwardly, patrolled the streets in search of a good, drunken night, wanting to let go of the long shifts they were forced to work. Squatting down on top of the roof, Florence watched the small group of young men in red making their way behind on of the most popular pubs in the district, pulling the thick material of her coat around her more as the harsh wind continued to blow.
“Are you sure the artefact is in here… It looks too, obvious.” She spoke, voice slightly shaking from the cold as she made an attempt to warm her hands throw her gloves. Jacob gave a short glance to the building that both of them were monitoring, the feeling of thirst building in the back of his throat as soon as the unique smell of beer rose up to the rooftops. Eyes narrowing at the entrance,the brunette turned his attention to his partnered assassin for the night, a teasing expression soon developing on his face.
“Are you saying that you don’t trust my research?” Jacob remarked, trying his best to lighten the mood and beat the boredom of having to wait and watch. Florence rolled her eyes as he finished speaking, wondering how she ever managed to get dragged into this mission. Brown eyes continued to dart from one end of the street to the other, not averting her attention in the slightest. Conversations with the man typically started and ended in a, somewhat, playful argument, whether it be about the mission or just small topics.
“Jacob, there isn’t an ounce of you that I trust.” Florence tilted her head as the main gang leader stumbled through the barely empty streets and heading straight into the pub. She couldn’t hide the small smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth when a moment of silence passed, her ego slightly increases from finally being able to leave the man speechless, even for just a minute. She could practically envision his face from behind her.
“Flora—” Jacob spoke, softly. “As always, your words continue to hurt me.” The sarcasm in his voice hit another level as he lowered himself next to her, pulling his hood up as he waited for the signal. Jacob turned to her and clutched at his heart, feigning his pain as he finished speaking: “Deeply.” Florence didn’t have to look at him to know that he was trying his best not to be too happy with himself.
“Get a hold of yourself Frye,” She quickly retorted, loading her gun without hesitation. She pulled out her hidden blade, turning to him and flashing him an infamous amused grin, a look that he gladly mirrored.
“We have a man to kill.”