Purple-door

Zodiac Ball
  • Aries: The temperature becomes warm, a baby dragon tries to make a swift entrance, but the glass breaks and a chaos begins, giggling and excited, blowing up balloons with scarlet lava, The party has only just began
  • Taurus: swinging on the vines outside, Mother Earth inhales with the trees in the wild, leafy weaved hair sparkling matted with Venus hairspray, held to tradition, its customary for beauty to arrive late
  • Gemini: One young, fresh faced winged creature flitters in following sprinkles of scattered chatter, in a second, it vanishes, and another one appears, contradicting everything the first creature said
  • Cancer: Arriving with suitcases, a girl with half crescent moon eyes arrives at the door, purple lunar dust she doesn't know her age, her chest has freckles like constellations, she said she was looking for home
  • Leo: Light begins peering through the window, a golden haired baby cub face arrives, snapshots flashing through illuminated eyes, crimson hair that falls behind her like a red carpet
  • Virgo: A mental hum sweeps through, in walks a youthful, earthly creature, wings held down to the ground with sewed safety pins, thinking with her eyes as they dart across the ground and sky, her mind impossible to catch
  • Libra: Pan flute music begins playing, and a cloud descends from the sky, translucent and reflective, a creature with a clam necklace and icing sugar for rouge, everybody wants to be friends with her, now the party is fun
  • Scorpio: Nobody noticed with their eyes that a mystifying essence had arrived, but everybody's soul was alerted, because they felt their spirit swamped with a watchful gaze, a ruthless guardian
  • Sagittarius: A balmy, coconut breeze blows through the party, enchanted, fiery arrows are thrown into the dartboard, a creature of many backgrounds and teachings arrives, speaking many languages and decoding secret rhymes
  • Capricorn: From a silver lining in a cloud, delicately crafted snowflakes fall down, a Princess arrives at exactly on time, riding a carriage pulled by unicorns, her name engraved on a plaque on the highest star in the sky
  • Aquarius: A rainbow of illuminated fairy lights beam from the clouds, rain drops of thought fall into your mind, a creature, clear winged and extraterrestrial speaks with every guest telepathically
  • Pisces: Music from seashells play in everyones ear, footsteps are heard from galaxies away, reverent and indefinable, a creature enters with sand webbed in her feet, Neptune dust sprinkled in her hair a teal turquoise dream reaching into the sea
aquiver | 03 (m)

aquiver (adj.) [uh-kwiv-er] in a state of trepidation or vibrant agitation; trembling; quivering

pairing: min yoongi x reader
genre/warnings: mature themes, talk of masturbation, smut, language, some type of fluff
words: 10,909
summary: Yoongi can’t remember the last time he was able to successfully bring himself to the point of orgasm, then Namjoon gives him a business card advertising ‘Healing Hands’, and that’s where he meets you; pretty and innocent looking, who gets paid to provide hand jobs for a living…
note. inspired by the novella ‘The Grownup’ by Gillian Flynn, literally just the character’s past occupation haha

» playlist | 01 | 02 | 03 |

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anonymous asked:

for the blurrb thing 'do you ever think about marrying me?' <3

Do you ever think about marrying me?

“Do you ever think about getting married?” Shawn asked you, turning down the music in his car.

His question surprised you quite a lot. You turned your head, gazing over at him. His shy eyes met yours shortly, before looking back on the road.

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atratum  asked:

miranda!

1. 

Mr. Hamilton asks her to marry him so often it becomes a game. “Marry me, Miss Barlow,” he’ll say when they step together in a dance, smiling at her as the dance separates them. 

“I couldn’t marry you today,” she’ll reply when the music joins them again, and his palm presses lightly against hers. “You will note the stormclouds.” 

“The rain would not do,” Mr. Hamilton will agree, hers for a few more measures. “Perhaps next week, when the weather clears?”

“Certainly not,” Miranda will say, and caress his thumb briefly with her own, risking the scandalized eye of Lady Heyward. “I could never marry under clear skies.” 

2. 

James books their passage under the names of Mr. and Mrs. McGraw, and although she understands the necessity–she won’t be parted from him, any more than he’ll be parted from her, and not even the relaxed atmosphere of a merchant vessel bound for Port Royal will allow Mr. McGraw and Mrs. Hamilton to share a cabin–she hates it. James is not her husband, although she’s never loved him more than she does now, the way misery loves grief. 

She’ll never have a husband again. 

1. 

Miranda refuses to marry Mr. Hamilton twice at the opera with the Dudleys, much to their amusement, but she takes his arm and arranges things so the two of them are side by side in the Dudleys’ box. He murmurs softly to her for the duration of the play, clever and wicked by turns, and she had him only the day before, on his knees in Duke R––’s library, but she’s already desperate to have him again. 

“Oh, marry me, Miranda,” he says with amused frustration when the night is over, but the conversation is not. “Come home and talk with me until we’ve put Caccini thoroughly to bed.” 

“Perhaps tomorrow, Mr. Hamilton,” Miranda says gently, and hopes that her eyes are promising him what she cannot, in their company–that she will give him whatever he likes in private, but she is clever enough to recognize the jaws of marriage, its unyielding bite. She has a few years yet before she must step into the trap. 

2. 

On the ship from Port Royal to Nassau, no one cares what their names are, or who shares her bed. She lies in the living dark of the ship at night–the men at watch walking above her head, the groaning communion of the ship and sea an endless chorus–and smooths her hand over James’s hair, mindless and repetitive. He’s awake, but quiet, his breath warm on the bare skin of her stomach. 

The last thing Thomas said to her was Take care of James

“I love you,” she says to the man in her bed. 

1. 

“I would never trap you,” Thomas swears in her bed, tender and relentless. “Would you trap me?” 

“Never,” Miranda says, pressing a brief kiss to his knuckles. “But it would not be the same. You would always have power over me.” 

He looks at her, very serious. “Would you like power over me?” he asks. 

2. 

James Flint murders a man at her word, and then returns to her, like an animal at the end of its chain. 

He tells her that Alfred Hamilton begged for his life. He tells her that her mother-in-law was there on the ship, too, and he did not spare her. His voice shakes in the telling, and she kisses him for it. 

Thomas died alone, in a cold, dark place. Captain Flint is bloodstained and grim in her arms, and she loves him, she loves him, she loves him. 

1. 

Thomas gives her a ring, a household, the promise of a title, and a small bundle of letters that would ruin him utterly if they fell into the wrong hands. He places them in hers with terrifying ease. “Come live with me,” he says, grinning like he’s won, like she’s won, like they’ve triumphed over an enemy together, “and be my love.” 

A year into their marriage, Miranda throws the letters into the fire. 

2. 

James comes home after a two month voyage and kisses her clumsily at the door, purple shadows under his eyes. She manages to get him to take off his boots before he falls into bed, but he’s too exhausted to remember his belt, or his coat. He’s asleep almost as soon as he lies down, and she sits down beside him, feels a rush of affection so strong it feels like fury. 

Oh, she thinks, looking down at the wounded face she knows as well as her own. You are all I have in the world. 

The affection dims under the weight of the thought.

The fury never leaves her. 

Accidents happen

Takashi Shirogane (Shiro) x reader

A/N: Honest to god, I laughed when I got this request but I promise I will make it pure gold! I honestly love the anon who sent this request in…thank you so much! XD

Warnings: I may or may not have made it a bit ‘saucy’ at some point…

Request: ‘How about the reader walking in on shiro walkin out of the communal shower without his towel’ – ‘comic genius’ anon

Originally posted by relatablepicsofvoltron

You woke up desperately needing a shower. Smelling of someone who had never seen a stick of deodorant in their life, you stumbled sleepily down the hallway. Almost reluctantly really. You never liked the communal showers that were available to you and the rest of team Voltron. Being only one of two female paladins, you always had to wait until none of the guys would come in and then shower. You didn’t want to walk in on one of the guys…naked. That was just, weird. You would never be able to look at them the same way ever again. It would be even worse if they walked in on you, seeing as you had different features compared to a male’s body.

Cringing just thinking about it, you held your towel over your head as you walked up to the door to the showers. Ignoring the sound of water hitting tile and the ever so obvious purple towel on the door handle. Thinking someone had just left it there, you opened the door without a second thought. Still tired, you rubbed your eyes whilst yawning, stretching out as you realised that you were not alone. Hoping to god that it was either Pidge or Allura, you hesitantly opened your eyes.

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