and her dress.. there are no words

cake + dresses = ♥ (NCT Jaehyun drabble)

MASTERLIST

This was written by Shreya from @fauremeetsfettywap​! She asked me if it’d be okay to post this on this blog, which I think was pretty cute and sweet of her! Hopefully you’ll like this short drabble….

also thanks for 4700 followers yallllllll that’s a lot of people, imma be more active from tomorrow so hopefully you’ll be supplied with some lit memes and content! also when i hit 5K, i promise i’ll do the follow forever i just keep forgetting to do it and/or don’t write it up fast enough👀😭


jae’s birthday surprise

word count: 293

Originally posted by neotechs


You take a look at yourself in the mirror. Perfect, just the way he would like it. You slipped into that new red dress you bought the other day, the one that hugged you in all the right places showing off your body and more importantly your legs. You carefully dab some red lipstick to match your outfit and ruffle up your hair a bit. You never let it loose but it just felt right today. You flash yourself a big grin and head to the dining table. 

It’s Jaehyun’s birthday today. You managed to slip away early from work to keep everything ready for dinner. He’d be back from recording in some time. You made sure your place was neat (shoved your stuff in a cupboard) and dinner was ready with the table was all set. You open the door to your apartment, leaving it only half-closed so some air can come in. You bend over the carefully set table and light a lavender-scented candle and let the scent waft through the air. “Perfect”, you think to yourself. 

You head towards the another corner table and bend over to light another candle and as you blow the fire off the matchstick a hand touches your waist and you immediately spin around to find yourself in his strong grasp, comforted by the warmth of his eyes. You look at him and grin goofily and say, “Happy Birthday, Jae”. He smiles a full smile to this, dimples and all, and pushes away strands of your hair from your eyes, fixates on them for a moment as his fingers gently touch your cheek and pulls you close so you can feel his breath against yours, and whispers, “Why’d you hide those legs for so long?” 

TMNT Bodyguard!AU

Leonardo/Part Three.

He had only expected it to be once.
When Leonardo had walked in and seen how incredible she looked, he had been struck stupid. The dark blue dress looked like it had been pulled straight from the night sky and wrapped around her figure in the most elegant way.
It only added to her beauty.
Leo hadn’t been able to say a word or move a muscle as her heart thumped wildly. Poison? Heart attack? No, neither of those. It was something a little stronger that had him paralyzed.
And all at once, it just came to him. Everything he had been feeling and thinking for these couple of weeks burst inside of him and he could make only one coherent thought:
Kiss her.
So he did. And he had expected it to be one kiss. She would pull away shocked and he would apologize and never do something so stupid ever again. But then, oh, she kissed him back. And he just couldn’t stop after that.
The two of them had taken to sneaking around the safehouse, whispering to one another and kissing whenever they could.
It was against the rules.
It was wrong.
And surely, the men had figured the whole thing out.
But he couldn’t stop. Leo didn’t think that he was in love or anything, it was too early for that. But he thought that maybe he could, if he was given the chance. That maybe a small tyrst could turn into something bigger, better. Maybe…
The relationship did not distract the turtle from his job, if anything it made him better.
He felt more protective then he ever had before. It had been three weeks since they had begun sneaking around and the charity ball was only hours away. Leonardo had been so busy planning patrols and security measures that he had barely seen Y/N.
But as she was slipping into that midnight blue gown, he had a sudden urge to “check on songbird”.
After all it’s what a leader does, isn’t it?
He slipped into her bedroom, smiling as he shut the door behind him.
“You ready?” he asked.
“I think so.” she replied.
She spun around, the long skirts spinning around her in a whirl of soft fabric and little gems. It was like starlight.
Leo walked foward, taking one of her tiny hands in his.
“I love this dress.” he whispered.
“Oh,” she teased. “Did something special happen involving it? I can’t remember.”
“Then let me remind you.”
They kissed once more, his hands grasping her waist and pulling her foward. For a moment, he forgot everything. The mission, the damger, all the rules he was breaking.
All of it.
It was just a moment of affection and maybe a little passion as well. And it was ruined by a knock on the door.
“We’re ready, sir. Is songbird prepared?”
They pulled away and Leo sighed in disappointment.
“She is. We’ll be out in a minute.”
Y/N grabbed her little purse and gave him one final kiss before saying
“Shall we?”
“After you.”
Leonardo was grateful that they had one car to themselves, with a privacy window. They were able to kiss a little more and talk privately as they made the drive to the ball.
They had agreed that Leonardo would pretend to be her date to the public while pretending not to be her date to the men.
Y/N, of course, had to point out the irony in the situation.
Leo was more then aware.
The night went well enough, with dancing and mingling and a hell of a lot of staring. Because who had expected the senator’s beautiful daughter to bring along a giant turtle?
Y/N didn’t seem to mind at all, even telling Leo that this was that first time she had enjoyed one of these. Until one of his men came along and whispered something to him.
Leonardo paled. And then composed himself before turning to her and whispering
“Is Amy here?”
It took a moment. But the second she remembered the codeword, Y/N took his hand and they began to weave their way through the crowd.
“Where? Where are they?”
“My men are tailing them. This way.”
He turned a corner and then two more until they found themselves in front of a set of large, gold doors. They opened to a balcony and one of the most stunning views Leo had ever seen.
The garden below them was filled with bright, blooming flowers. The foutains glowed in the moonlight and a million stars twinkled in the night sky. It was perfect.
Leonardo looked at her and it was enough to tell him that she was thinking it too. His men would catch the stalker. Her father would pay him. And Leonardo would go home.
Secretly, Y/N hoped that she would ask him to stay with her and that he would say yes.
But she knew that it couldn’t happen.
His father wouldn’t allow it and he could not betray the family rules.
All Leonardo could do was make this moment worth something, something they would both cherish for the rest of their lives. He cupped his hands around her face and Y/N reached up with her own hand to touch his. Her eyes closed and Leo leaned down to kiss her one last time.
His lips hovered above hers.
This was the time to say something romantic and unforgettable…but he couldn’t think of a damn thing. He just kissed her.
The last perfect moment.

In another life, I would make you stay

Summary: Just the fact he was able to stand by her, he felt blessed.

Word count: 1036

Pairing: Jaebum X OC

Warning(s): sad

A/N: i feel like it’s kinda messy and maybe too repetitive and maybe inconsistent or senseless but pardon me. i just wanted to post something up within this week ;-; i should think of the quality of my works instead OTL

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Her erratic breaths made a lovely melody accompanied by the city’s noise. Her weak knees pressed against the cold pavement did their best to kept her straight. Her once beautiful dress was now a dirty mess ripped to shreds that only reminded her of her despair. Her brunette hair which used to be braided was now loosely blown by the chilled air of the night. It hurt. Betrayal hurt. Shutting her eyes closed, she stood up and started walking aimlessly. Their taunting laughter still echoed in her head. Their empty eyes still followed her. Then she was at the museum. Their museum. Where they promised they would always be together. Where secrets were shared. Where she learned what love what suppose to be like. Or so she thought. The sound of a broken glass the startled her waking her up from her painful trance. “Princesa, what are you doing here? What happened at the party?” an old man asked leaning an oval shaped mirror against a wall. “Nothing abuelo, I’m just tired”  she tried to lie, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat. The wrinkle’s man face regarded her in concern, but when she turned away he sighed. “Just remember princesa, tu eres más fuerte que tus demonios.” Just when the door closed again she opened her eyes to confirm that she was alone. Suddenly she fell to the ground letting cries escaped her mouth. How could she be so naive? Lifting her face from a shield her hands had created she saw the reflection of the mirror shone in the darkness. Whimpering she dragged her body to the wall and took the mirror in her trembling hands. Upon seeing the image reflected she stayed in silence before letting a scream fueled by hatred. So under the gaze of the city that never sleeps she swore that they would never hurt her again. That they would pay. She would make them pay for what they had done. Because after all, she was stronger than her demons

anonymous asked:

Kol and Caroline prank Klaus please? Thank you xoxo

here you go. sorry about the wait. also semi-dedicated to @thetourguidebarbie in spirit of her birthday having been last week.


Vibrant Violet Vixen


ao3 link: here

word count: 519

warnings: fluff, pranks

summary: Klaus finds himself an unwilling victim of Caroline’s prank war with Kol.


“Kol!” came Klaus’s enraged roar, echoing loudly through the empty halls of the Mikaelson Manor. The man himself came into view only a few moments later. He was dressed in his usual dark Henley and dark jeans, but what was truly remarkable was vibrant violet hair color he was currently sporting, product of a long-lasting hair dye.

The dye was courtesy of Caroline, but the scheming was Kol’s part.

They had been locked in a hardcore prank war for weeks now, grating on all the Mikaelsons’ nerves but especially Klaus’s. Now, Caroline had, attempting to out-prank Kol, set the younger Mikaelson up to take the fall for the blonde’s mischief.

“Kol!” Klaus cried again, causing the walls of the front hall to reverberate. A delicate vase from the Renaissance age slipped from its side table, shattering into millions of shards against the hard marble of the floor.

“Stop screaming, brother,” Kol replied, flashing in front of Klaus and leaving the front door wide open. “We can all hear you.”

“Kol,” his brother growled. “What did you do to my shampoo?”

Kol’s eyes traveled up, up, up to the brightly-colored hair of his brother. “Nothing.” He smirked convincingly.

“What did you do?” Klaus repeated with more emphasis, lunging forward swiftly at his brother.

“I swear, Nik.” Kol stepped back and held his hands before him in universal surrender. “I did nothing. You can ask that blond vixen of yours. Caroline’s the culprit, not me.”

Despite his trickster spirit, Kol was being honest here.

Klaus scowled at him, and Kol’s smirk widened.

“Ciao, brother,” Kol said, smiling like a creepy Cheshire cat. He blurred past Klaus, heading out the back door of the Manor.

“Caroline?” Klaus grumbled.

There was a blurry streak of blond and floral print as Caroline attempted to escape to the front door, but she was no match for Klaus’s hybrid reflexes as he grabbed her slender wrist and tugged her into his embrace.

Her previous momentum caused them to go crashing into the wall, and Caroline used the distraction to try and slip away from Klaus, but he only tightened his grip.

“Did you switch my shampoo with hair dye?” Klaus demanded grumpily.

“So, what if I did?” Caroline leveled the hybrid with an even cerulean stare. “You can’t do anything about it now.”

His temperament shifted to amusement as a daring grin split his frown. “I can’t do anything about it?” he repeated, challenged. Klaus leaned in, pressing his tempting mouth to Caroline’s fair skin. He lay short kisses there, lip wandering further down to the neckline of her dress, sucking purple-pretty bruises wherever his mouth travelled.

Caroline sighed breathily, eyes fluttering shut, but they snapped open again when Klaus bit her skin brutally with his fangs, drawing blood. She hissed.

“Didn’t like that, did you?” Klaus asked with mirth in his voice.

“Just get your mouth back,” Caroline ordered, irritated, attempting to shove his face back to her neck.

“No,” Klaus replied. “I don’t think I will.”

Instead, he heaved a squealing Caroline above his shoulder and sped off in the direction of their bedroom.

Imagine a modern Persephone, her lips the color of pomegranate wine, hair black as obsidian, and her skin the color of fertile earth. Her dress moves with the colors of spring, shifting from the deep greens of meadows to the flowers in bloom. The crown atop her head is made from the stones and gems of her husband’s - her - kingdom.

Imagine a modern Persephone who walks through graveyards with Hecate. They hold the hands of grieving loved ones. She whispers words of comfort as she escorts a small child down to the underworld.

Imagine a modern Persephone who stands at the forefront of the environmental movement. Her Godhood is tied to the earth and below, and she will do whatever is necessary to see that it survives.

Imagine a modern Persephone who is as ruthless as she is beautiful. She was never the damsel the stories paint her out to be. She is forever the Dread Queen, the Maiden on the Throne of Iron.

She found a god she loved and went with him willingly. As the goddess of Spring, she knew what the pomegranate would mean. She chose to leave her mother, and in doing so, became Queen of the Underworld.

Imagine a modern Persephone who teaches young girls they can be rebellious. She whispers in the ear of every girl, “Follow your heart and to it stay true, and you shall never know fear.

Artemis has her huntresses, and Aphrodite has her doves. Persephone refers to her daughters as the destroyers, for like their patron, they carve their own way.

Some of the days will be like children running, playing and laughing at the park. Families eating together inside a comfy restaurant. Teenagers walking hand in hand. A lovely lady inside a fancy boutique trying a dress with her smile and lips apart. Some of the days will be sunny as if the whole world decided to spread a happy vibe. But we both know darling, that some of the days will also be like silence in a crowded room. Like a man alone sitting on a bench watching people passed in front of him from morning to noon. Some of the days will make you love yourself more, yet some days will make you realize how people tend to judge one another. Some of the days will make you feel like you wanted to change the world because of everything you feel—because of the worst things you’ve seen. Some of the days will make you want to smile at every single stranger who you’ll meet. As if you wanted them to see how wonderful the day is. Some of the days will tell you who you are, and some days will drag you somewhere else trying to tell you that you’re lost again. Yet also maybe every day might be all the same to you. Because you’ve been doing the same thing again and again. But darling, when you try to look back, years from now, you will always find yourself wondering what time can do to us. That no matter how many times you tell to yourself that nothing is different, if it’s not you, then the world will always make you realize that a lot of things already changed. Including every people around you. Even you.
—  ma.c.a // Days in a Year
best drag race seasons (indisputable)

all stars 2: the best. no season of any show is better. every aspect, cast member and conversation could not be created better for television. alaska’s meltdown, alyssa being behind the mirror, the Return Of Rolaskatox™, phi phi saying she’s trying to redeem herself but not changing at all, $10,000 via paypal, tatianna and alyssa both returning, adore leaving, KATYA SAYING PARTY

season 5: a close second. rolaskatox, first double elimination, BACK ROLLS, roxxxy hating jinkx with every fibre of her being, alyssa vs coco, lil poundcake, the roast of serena cha cha, roxxxy’s fucking wig reveal

season 4: simply iconic. sharon vs phi phi, everything latrice said and did, willam being eliminated, dida ritz’s lipsyncs, the wrestling challenge, sharon’s rupocalypse now look, “GET THOSE NUTS AWAY FROM MY FACE”, the snatch game failure

season six: a comprehensive look inside the mind of a crazy person (laganja). ornacia, THIS IS JUST TOO FUCKING MUCH, not today satan, laganja’s no smoking sign on her head, kelly mantle’s bacon dress, every blessed word that came out of biancas mouth

2

Mind Reader

Characters: Dean x Reader

Warnings: angst adjacent, smut, dirty talk, LOTS of language

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: I was looking through some REALLY old requests and I came across an idea from @jennalyncarrigan1230 from who knows how long ago. She pitched an idea that I have twisted and LOVE the outcome. I doubt she even remembers sending the ask, but her initial idea sparked this smutty goodness. This took on a life of its own. I haven’t wrote Dean smut or ANY smut in quite some time. This is officially DIRTY. Or at least by my standards it is. Hope you enjoy. ;) Italics & Bold indicate reader’s thoughts.  This has very little plot. Just the poor reader thinking her secret dirty thoughts about Dean only to have them be not so secret anymore.

Feedback Appreciated

Tags at the bottom

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Soulmates

Pairing: Harry and Y/N

Word Count: 1600

Prompt (AU) : Harry took his anger out in sex-and you weren’t supposed to do that. He would go to the bar and find others just as terrible and lonely as him, drink, and then sink his sorrows into anything with breast and a hole were to put it. Niall always rolled his eyes the next morning and say to Harry “you’re a proper dick, yeh know that right?”, to which Harry would lift his middle finger up and respond with, “if soulmates are real she would love me anyhow.”

“Harry when you meet her your life will change,” Anne says, handing him a cup of tea.

Harry rolls his eyes, “I don’t care to meet her. It’s all bullshit,” Harry grumbles.


Y/N was never much of a talker; she had maybe said eight sentences in her whole life time. She wasn’t sure where the fear really came from, the fear of saying the wrong thing, of being too loud, of not being heard, so she kept to herself. People didn’t seem to understand though, they couldn’t comprehend why she chose to not talk, so she was labeled as weird, freak, stupid etc. Then they labeled her as mute (and she was) but she hated that term, she really did, Y/N just hated being labeled. At first it hurt, it really did, but Y/N soon learned to ignore them, she could only really care about what her Soulmate would have to say, and deep down a part of her wished that they were like her, quiet.

Soulmates, Y/N had been waiting for hers for a long time. She could remember sitting in class in fifth grade, when the teacher explained the process. She explained how everyone was born with a mark, a mark that only their other half had and she made them find that mark. Y/N’s was on her wrist, it was small, and lighter than her regular skin color, she wasn’t sure what it was at first, it just looked like a stick. But the teacher explained how the mark gets more detailed as they get older and closer to finding their person, and Y/N had noticed how that mark slowly grew into a small flower, a petal or two still missing.

Her teacher explained how every person was made for the other, and that they would feel their soulmates emotions, pain, negative thoughts, happy thoughts. They were connected and no matter what the other would always feel what their person was feeling. Y/N had learned that her person always seemed to be grumpy.

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shakespeare aesthetics

romeo and juliet: suburban july. scraped knees, bruised knuckles, blood in your teeth. bare feet on hot concrete. restlessness. your high school’s empty parking lot. love poems in your diary. a window open to coax in a breeze. burning inside. an ill-fitting party dress, a t-shirt you cut up yourself, the time you tried to give yourself bangs. biking to your friend’s house. bubble gum. gas station ice. the feeling that you’ve met before. rebellion. a car radio playing down the street. cheap fireworks. a heart drawn on the inside of your wrist with sharpie. switchblades. red solo cups. dancing in your bedroom. screaming yourself hoarse. running out of options. the forlorn-looking basketball hoop at the end of the cul-de-sac. climbing onto your roof at night while your parents are asleep. flip-flops. a eulogy written on looseleaf. the merciless noontime sun.

hamlet: speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a browning garden. a half-remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn, mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter and spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you’d say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins, books with cracked spines, books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls’ day. a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor. uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a child. a dirty night gown. a big black t-shirt. a collection of your favorite words. soil under your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

twelfth night: wicker deck furniture. new england summer. big dark sunglasses and a blonde bob. a storm over the ocean, patio umbrellas flapping in the wind. chlorine smell. muffled laughter. sarcasm. starched cuffs. day drinking. bay windows. the idea of love, love for the idea of love, love for love’s sake. hangovers. wandering over the sand dunes. a vagabond with a guitar, a crab fisherman with tattoos, a pretty boy with a slackened tie. a light house. growing too close. boat shoes. feeling yourself change. finger guns. big floppy sun hats. double-speak. a song you keep listening to. turning red under their gaze. margaritas drunk on an inflatable pool lounger. string lights on a balmy night. sleepy june days. fights you’re unprepared for, hope you weren’t expecting, pranks that go too far. bad poetry. pining. pool noodles. becoming less of a stranger.

macbeth: the space where your grief used to be. a bird that’s lost an eye. old blood stains. heavy blinds. the smell of sweat, the stillness after battle. a fake smile. a curse. the taste of metal at the back of your tongue. your house, unfamiliar in the dark. a dusty crib. a sulfur smell. an orange pill bottle. streaks in the sink. a black cocktail dress. your hand on the doorknob, shaking. chilly breeze. crunching from the gravel driveway on a moonless night. clenched hands. a rusty swing set. a flashing digital clock stuck on 12:00. a snake that crosses your path, an owl that watches you, a dog that runs when you approach. red smoke. dark clouds. cool steel. tile floors. footsteps in the hallway late at night. a baggy suit that used to fit before. visions. insomnia headaches. nursery rhymes. being too far in to go back now. 

much ado about nothing: the high drama of small towns. a pickup truck, military supply duffel bags in the hall, hugs all around. tulip bulbs. a wraparound porch, a pitcher of iced tea. barbecue. a rubber halloween mask. someone on your level. indian summer. ill-timed proclamations. stomach-clutching laughter. rushing in. not minding your business. crepe paper. white lies. secrets written down and thrown away. southern hospitality. homemade curtains in the kitchen, a sink full of roses. hiding in the bushes. old friends. the wedding dress your grandma wore, and her mama before her. a dog-eared rhyming dictionary. camomile with honey. the intimacy of big parties. lawn flamingos. gossip. a crowded church. friendly rivalries. unfriendly rivalries. shit getting real. love at five hundredth sight. not realizing you have a home until you’re there. 

king lear: cement block buildings. power lines that birds never perch on. the end of the world. useless words. rainless thunder, heat lightning, a too-big sky. arthritic knuckles. broken glass. chalk cliffs. the pulsing red-black behind closed eyes. something you learned too late. wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk. a cold stare. empty picture frames. empty prayers. the obscenity of seeing your parents cry. a treeless landscape. bloody rags. grappling in the dark with reaching hands. the sharpness at the tips of your teeth. the blown-out windows of skeletal houses. decay. jokes that aren’t jokes, shutting up, holding your tongue. prophecies. aching muscles, tired feet. stinging rain. invoking the gods, wondering if the gods are listening, wondering if the gods are dead. white noise. shivers. numbness. the unequivocal feeling of ending.

a midsummer night’s dream: wet soil/dead leaves smell. listening to music on headphones with your eyes closed. wildflowers. the distant sparkle of lightning bugs. a pill somebody slipped you. fear that turns to excitement, excitement that turns to frenzy. mossy tree trunks. a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness. night swimming. moonlight through the leaves. a bass beat in your chest. a butterfly landing on your nose. a kiss from a stranger. a dark hollow in an old tree. glow-in-the-dark paint. drinking on an empty stomach. a twig breaking behind you. spinning until you’re dizzy. finding glitter on your body and not remembering where it came from. an overgrown path through the woods. cool dew on your skin. a dream that fades with waking. moths drawn to the light. giving yourself over, completely. afterglow. the long, loving, velvety night.

Every Possible Past

Lars sat with his knees pulled close to his body, leaning against the rough-hewn surface of the kindergarten wall. He trailed his finger through the thin coating of dirt on the rockbed floor. He drew distracted shapes and wrote out words and names in the dirt, all of which he wiped clean and started anew, his brow furrowed.

Pad watched from behind. Unseeable, her eye flickered between Lars and the drawings in the dirt. She picked up the hem of her dress and moved to his side, sitting down with only a few inches of space between them. Lars said nothing. Pad didn’t either, for a while.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Me? Nothing,” Lars muttered. He erased a smiling sun and started anew. “Thinking.”

“…About?” Pad asked after a moment of hesitation.

“Stuff,” he answered. He picked his hand up from the dirt, seemingly lost for what to do. “Like, about this. Here.” Lars motioned to the rock walls stretching too high to measure, filtering through just enough light to see the rock dust trailing through the air, large and enveloping. “Where I’m stuck. Forever, maybe. And I’m thinking about if just…if I coulda avoided any of this if I’d just stopped being a coward sooner. That ‘stuff’.”

“Oh,” Pad answered. She stuck her own finger in the dirt, tracing squiggles. “No, you couldn’t have. You don’t have to worry about that.”

Lars blinked. “I didn’t even explain.”

“You’re concerned that your fate may have been avoided if you had helped Steven escape from Topaz sooner.” Pad added her own smiley face among the squiggles in the dirt. “Or perhaps if you had saved your blond friend on the ship when Aquamarine and Topaz descended upon you.”

Lars straightened, back against the stone wall. Then he pushed himself standing. “How do you know this stuff?”

Pad paused, her finger trailing midway through the dust. “Oh. Oh of course. My future vision is broken. It can only see the past.”

“So you can see…what, everything that happened?”

“And everything that might have happened. Like an endless tree.” She stood, and dusted herself off. “Most Sapphires can see all the possible things that might happen. I can only see the things that might have happened.”

Lars swallowed, and he stammered, and slowly he found the words. “The things that might have happened.”

“Yes.”

“So you can tell me what would have happened to me if I’d done this differently.”

“Oh, yes!”

“What would have happened if uh…what if I had helped Sadie when she needed help on the ship?”

Pad remained silent for a few seconds. A hollow wind blew through the caverns. “Ah yes, I see that vision now. You would have plummeted into the water with all the human others. And Steven would have vanished on the ship. You would have returned solemnly to your home. The next morning, you would have entered into a building with a large ring on the top.”

“The Big Donut.”

“Yes. That’s what the sign would have said.”

“What about Sadie?”

Another few seconds of silence. Pad clasped her hands together. “She would be there too. But you would not speak much with her. The disappearance of Steven would have left you both in turmoil.”

Lars wrung his hands together. “Okay… okay okay. That would have happened a couple days ago, yeah? What would be happening right now? If I was home? Where would I be?”

Pad shook her head. “Oh. I can’t see the possible presents.”

Lars licked his lips. Then he nodded. “Okay so…if I asked you tomorrow, would you be able to tell me what would have happened today? If I never left home?”

“Oh, yes. Yes, I would be able to tell you that.”

“Okay. Okay then.” Lars leaned against the wall, sinking slowly down it. He patted the dusty ground beside him. “If you’ve got some time now. Then could you tell me what um—if I had gotten off that ship, and stayed home—what would I have done yesterday?”

Pad picked up the hem of her dress and dropped into the offered spot. She fell silent a few moments before her mouth opened. “You would have returned to your place of work once more—the Big Donut. And you would have spoken to Sadie. She would have been difficult to console, as would you, but you would have triumphed eventually. She would have laughed at a humorous remark you found from the internet. This would have made you proud.”

Ten years pass quickly for Gems, not so much for humans. Lars wasn’t sure how these last ten years had passed for him, slow and fast at the same time. His physical body has not changed much, though his hair has grown much longer.

Lars leaned his back against the rough stone wall, free of dust now, and he waited for Pad to appear by his side.

When she did, Lars sunk to the ground, knees against his chest, and patted the same spot as always—as he did every day—for Pad to sit.

“So…tell me about yesterday. If I had stayed home, what would have happened yesterday?” Lars asked with urgency. It was the same question he had asked every day of the last ten years, but he was anxious now. He knew what might occur.

Pad smiled. She clasped her hands together. “You would have taken Sadie out to a food place along the beach. It would have been the one she told you she loved as a small human. And you would have taken that polished and cut stone out of your pocket, in the soft black box, and you would have presented it to her. You would have lowered yourself onto one knee first, and unfurled the box, and said, ‘Sadie, would you marry me?’”

Lars’s heart pounded in his ears. He swallowed dryly, leaning in. “What would she have said?”

“She would have said ‘Of course Lars. Of course.’”

Lars let out a strained breath, a noise of relief, or perhaps disbelief. He blinked harder, and leaned back against the wall, and traced his hand through the dirt. “Oh my god… Oh my god she would have said yes. She would have said yes.”

“Yes, she would have,” Pad answered.

The noise Lars made was soft, and wet, and it echoed out. Bouncing against the vast and dark heights of the kindergarten walls, absorbed and deflected in the cold hollow shells of Gems long extracted. And then it was lost to the cavern, that isolated and dark sealed off place. Inescapable.

A hollow wind replaced it.

Lars’s hand traced the shape of a heart in the dust, and the small strained noises from his throat dried up until only tears leaked down his cheeks. His hand stopped once it trembled too hard to trace anything more.

Sixpenceee Glitch in the Matrix

I had a glitch in the matrix once, sort of I think. So when I was a kid we lived right by this giant, incredibly expensive, creepy af hotel called The Mansion. Now me and my friends would go down to the park and play in front of this place, and since it was closer than our houses and open to the public most of the time we’d go inside any opportunity to go to the bathrooms. They were fancy and we had fun pretending we were rich. So one day my mom and I were in there, coming out of the bathroom. A woman we’d never seen before appears, beautiful, tall, dark. It was easy to assume she worked there due to her clothing. She sees us, dressed in my dirtiest play-outside-clothes and says, “would you like to see our million dollar chandelier?” So my mom and I look at each other like obviously, we’d never explored the place. So this woman turns around and starts walking without another word to a room I didn’t know existed before, her heels the loudest thing in the building, echoing against the arched ceilings and marble statues. When she stops she shows us the chandelier, which was pretty ugly imo but whatever we were like, cool. Then, after a split second we turn around to ask her something and the woman was gone. These rooms are huge, it takes a full minute to even reach a door to get to the next room, which we can see into through the giant doorways. and her shoes were so loud we would have heard them. So we’re freaked and get the hell out, running past the scary statues to the outside door. I grew up near there and neither I, my mom, or anyone else I know has ever seen her since.

A+ dwsa things

• when wendla hands her voice a guitar, and her voice hands her a dress through the mirror at the very biggining

• when wendla is being dragged into the abortion clinic, yelling “mama”, her voice dies out and it’s Sandra Mae yelling the last “mama”, in vain

• the vast difference in meaning between word of your body, and word of your body reprise

• the only characters to make it out alive and happy are the gay characters

• the fucking lighting for touch me, and for mirror blue night

• finger gloves

• the way Moritz’s voice pulls him aside roughly when making an excuse as to why he can’t walk Ilse home

• Moriz’s visual realization he’s dead

• the way Moriz hesitates before reaching for the gun his voice holds up to him after “and then there were none”

• the way the boys move the bed around and sing in the back (save for ernst) in “the dark I know well”

• Moriz puts Ilse’s jacket back on for her after her solo in blue wind

• the drummer

• the way the teachers unfold Melchior’s fucking porn letter and it’s deadass about six pages long

• Melchior signs something, without any subtitles on screen, at the very last scene of the play

I commissioned a modern Tarzan and Jane from the incredibly talented @punziella and here’s the final result!! I couldn’t be happier with it, it’s absolutely perfect and I just love it so so much I can’t stop staring at it, thank you so much Pauline!!

carried on the breeze [you’ll never find me]

inspired by this post from @stranger-who-writes-fiction

kara has flown myriad out into space,

and alex has gone after her in that damn pod. sure, getting the thing to space wasn’t a problem - reentery however was where things were going more than a little screwy. in no seconds flat  alex finds herself in a falling deathtrap with her unconscious sister draped mostly uncomfortably across her.

this pod was not meant for two.

nor, apparently, is it meant for rouge humans hijacking and then flying it, poorly but still functionally, into space to save their superhero little sisters. yet, alex had done it anyway.

and now, well, with the planet rapidly rising up to meet them, alex realizes the steering is gone. realizes that the best she can hope for is sending out some sort of signal and hoping that wherever they landed…the deo finds them first.

too bad it was going to be a water landing. which, god, that wasn’t what alex wants. any type of crash landing would probably kill her on impact, but at least crashing into some sort of land might ensure kara’s survival. kara who is still unconscious.

alex knows she has seconds left to come up with a plan. she’s feeling a little ill, the pod spinning around and with one arm holding kara to her chest, alex is left to crane her neck over her little sisters shoulder just to look at the console.

her eye catches a red button.

under the console, hidden from the normal line of sight - alex has to wonder if red buttons hold the same meaning on every plant. alex has to wonder why she never asked.

[to be fair, it’s an obscure question, but god, alex wishes she’d had  the foresight to see this coming]

what she doesn’t see coming are the clouds, the fog that seems to be way too high in the atmosphere, plunging the pod and the danvers sisters into a grey half light.

Keep reading

3

“In my opinion, aunties are the true style queens,” says Ruth Ossai. The 25-year-old photographer is referring to the well-dressed women of a certain age in Nsukka, a university town in Nigeria, though her words ring true for communities all over West Africa. In these parts, fashion choices only get more audacious with age. “There are so many stylish young people, but the elders carry themselves better because of their grace,” she says. “They carry a sense of tradition unapologetically.”

See Ossai’s style portraits and read the full story here.

The Dress

Hey guys! This is an imagine about the reader doing her best to tease her friend, Tom, because she’s unsure of his feelings for her, in a really hot dress. I’m not even going to lie to you, this story is pure smut? The middle is soft and sweet, but everything else is ?porn? I hope you like it!

The Dress

She and Tom had been ambling through the various art exhibits at her city’s center since before ten A.M., and after they were invited to a lavish restaurant with a group of their friends, she insisted that she change her clothes. From a simple, floral sundress, she slipped into something a little more uncomfortable while Tom waited in her living room, doing his best to keep his integrity and not to sneak a peek. Truth be told, he thought that she looked beyond fine in her sundress. The back dipped low and he could tell that she didn’t have a bra on, plus the flowing fabric of the dress shifted around as she walked and Tom enjoyed flashes of her smooth legs. She looked sweet and innocent, and there was something absolutely perverse in Tom that just wanted to mess it up. Alas, they had chosen to take it slow, so take it slow he tried.

    As soon as they had met, Tom knew that she was the only girl for him, but as of then, she wanted to focus solely on her education. He understood, of course, seeing as her schooling was on the same level of importance as his acting, and he didn’t want to disturb her. He couldn’t bare to be without her once he had began to know her, so he settled for being her friend, but he was positive that it was slowly killing him.

    She was the most kind-hearted person that he had ever come across, always doing what was needed to help others. Beyond that, he’s made the mistake of accompanying her on her trip across town to babysit her cousin’s children where he discovered that she was also the most nurturing soul out there. During their stay at her cousin’s home, he had watched as she simplified Philip Roth’s, ‘A Defender of the Faith,’ into terms so easily understood that four year olds could pick apart the intended theme. Beyond that, she answered all of their questions, even the ones that had him snorting under his breath, with complete respect and sincerity. It was right then that he could feel himself drifting into the haze love with her.

    He felt his heart warm towards her again when they went out for dessert and she took a bite of her sundae, eyes blissfully shut as her lips closed over the chilled spoon. As soon as her lashes fluttered open, she offered Tom the next bite. Ever since then, sharing had been their thing and it was hurling him into love with her.

    She wore his clothes, always giving them back smelling of her perfume. He borrowed her favorite books, films, and favorite places in the city to hide out and be alone. Time and time again, when he was in immediate need of a vehicle and couldn’t find one to rent fast enough, she had handed over her car keys without a second thought. Tom smiled as he waited for her to get dressed, fiddling with the ginormous copy of Edgar Allan Poe’s short stories, a personal favorite of theirs to read.

In her room, she stood between two options. One dress was wholesome and cute, a typical outfit of hers, and the other was daring, sultry and, for lack of a better word, tiny. She hopelessly coveted Tom’s affection, but she was unsure of how to obtain it. Sure they had flirted from time to time, but she wanted to make him want her indefinitely, and if the dress would help her accomplish that, than so be it. He was all that was in her heart and all she wanted to do was to immerse him in love. Her best friend had encouraged her to purchase the dress for this very reason, and she refused to let something so pretty rot in the back of her closet. Slipping on some high heels and adding another coat of mascara, she exited her room.

“Are you ready, my love?” Tom called as he listened for the sound of heels clicking against her wood floors. He turned around and saw her before she could respond.

    She looked so lusciously risque that Tom couldn’t even form an eloquent thought in his brain. In the crest if the hallway, she stood in front of him wearing a dress so small and delicate that Tom was certainly convinced he could tear off her body using only his teeth, and sweet heavens, oh how he wanted to.

    “Holy mother of fucking hell,” Tom hissed through gritted teeth, “you’re going to fucking kill me, babydoll.”

    Truth be told, her dress had been located in the lingerie section of the store, but after sending photos of the dress to practically every contact in her phone, despite Tom, she decided it was approved nightwear. People wore less and got away with it all the time, she thought.

She was dressed in a soft, blush-toned, silk nightie that barely reached the top of her thighs. The straps were made of lace and the front dipped low so low that if she were to bend down to touch the floor, the dress would move to reveal her bellybutton. Her back was exposed, seeing as the nightie was backless and she’d made sure to get the next size up so it would be just baggy enough to show a little side-boob. The heels she wore were tall and nude, and they elongated her legs so well that they looked endless.

“Ready?” She chirped, making a show of swinging her hips as she walked past Tom, eager to unveil her dress’s scandalous lack of backing. She heard him mumble unintelligible curses once more.

“You, are you, wearing, you’re going to wear that out?” Tom asked as he locked the door, realizing that there was absolutely no way that he was going to make it through dinner with her when she was practically naked in front of him. He knew it was not his place, or anyone’s place, to dictate what she wore, but he was seriously concerned for his sanity at this point. He was either going to need to leave early or masturbate in the bathroom.

She cocked her head to the side to gaze up at him through her lower lashes, “yes, Tom,” she said, placing her hands on his chest, “why wouldn’t I? Don’t you like it?” She knew full well that she was laying it on thick, but she was determined to break him down.

He swallowed thickly. She was looking at him how he always imagined she’d look at him in bed. Her eyes were glossed over, she rolled her lower lip beneath her teeth, her chest moved rapidly up and down, she smelled like freshly picked daisies and Tom knew he was so beyond fucked. Was she doing this to him on purpose?

“I just don’t want you to be cold is all,” he stuttered out, which was true, but not his only unease about her napkin of a dress.

She’d thought this out as well. It had come to her understanding that Tom liked to see her in his clothes, so she smiled up at him, leaning even closer if humanly possibly and with her lips pressed an inch away from the base of his throat, uttered, “could I borrow your jacket? I don’t have one that’ll go with my outfit, but I really like yours.”

Tom coughed, “yeah, of course you can, sweet girl,” before removing his jean jacket and draping it across her shoulders, praying that she would at least button it up.

Curling her arms around Tom in a hug, she whispered words of thanks and left his coat perched gently atop her shoulder blades. She turned and began to make her way down the apartment complex’s hallway, not waiting for Tom to catch up.

“I’m going to die,” he mumbled before readjusting his jeans and hurrying after her.

On the walk there, she had teased him like no other, and Tom was becoming not only extremely hot, but very bothered.

First, she’d paused and asked him if he could check to see if her buckle on her heels was broken. She had rationed that she would do it herself, but her dress was too short. Once he’d knelt down, she’d shifted so that her leg was lifted almost over his shoulder and ruffled her hands through his hair, claiming that she needed to steady herself so she didn’t fall. She let out at airy groan as soon as his hand curled over her ankle to hold her still, brushing off his raised eyebrows as her just being sleepy. Tom had gotten a clear look at the white, lace panties she was wearing by accident, but he suspected she had done moved just so he would see.

Then, she had asked him if he could hold her phone for her, seeing as she had forgotten her bag. When Tom said that he could, she ignored his outstretched palm and slipped her phone directly into his jean pocket herself. Frankly, Tom was getting a little pissed off.

To make matters worse, when they rode up in the elevator together to reach the restaurant, they’d unluckily gotten stuck on the busiest ride. When he crowded into the corner, she had made sure to rub her bum against the bulge in his jeans the entire way up, apologizing when they got to their floor, telling him that she was just too close to the man in front of her. At this point, Tom knew better. He didn’t know what she was playing at, but he was going to demand to be informed as soon as they were alone.

He’d just have to make it through dinner.

    However, Tom couldn’t even make it through the appetizers before he demanded to speak with her alone. Their friends had taken notice to her attire immediately after she took off his coat because it was so different than what she normally wore and had teased the pair throughout the entirety of their time together.

    Everyone was well aware of their feelings for one another, and did their best to mush them together as often as possible. Due to their party being so large, she was practically sat on Tom’s lap and she offered him food straight from her fork, which wasn’t unusual for them, it just felt different tonight. There was nowhere Tom could put his hands without touching her bare skin and he’d just about lost his mind.

    Securing a firm hand around her waist, Tom yanked her back roughly against his chest, “we’re going out outside right now.” They were sat so close together that Tom could hear her heart beat faster.

    “Why?” She asked, her brow furrowing.

    Tom stood, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her away from their meal, “are you honestly asking me why?” He scoffed, grumbling out a half-assed lie about where and the reason that they needed to leave. Tom was all too prepared to endure the taunts from their friends, he didn’t care anymore.

    He led her through the sea of people, pushing past without a single ‘excuse me.’ Tom knew that he was being a dick but he didn’t have it in him to care. If she wanted to make it her mission to provoke him, as she clearly had, Tom was sure as hell going to let her know that she succeeded.

    As soon as they were far enough away from the crowd to not be overheard, he whipped around and exclaimed, “what the fuck is this about? Have I done something to you? Have you lost your mind?” Tom began to pace up and in front of her, “like I know you must realize what you’re doing to me?”

    All of her bashfulness returned. Teasing Tom all day had honestly worked her up too. He made her feel so wanted, and thoughts of him touching her and her touching him had wormed their way into her mind throughout their evening. She’d never thought that he would confront her about her actions, and now that he was, and he looked so good doing it, she didn’t know what to do with herself.

    “What do you mean?” She asked, focusing on the uneven sidewalk rather than to meet Tom’s gaze.

    Sighting a cramped corridor near behind a closed shop, Tom took ahold of her hand and dragged her into the corridor’s cover. Now, they wouldn’t be seen by anyone as long as they were quiet.

    He breathing hard and he knew he was pressed into her and she could feel his hardness poking against her leg. “Darling, don’t you dare play like that. I swear I’ll lose my mind,” he raked a hand through his hair, “well, more than I already have.”

    She gnawed on the inside of her cheek, knowing that as of right now, she could either be brave and possibly turn their friendship into something much larger, or she could apologize and have things stay the same. Harrison had mentioned that Tom had feelings for her right after they’d met, so she prayed that he still did.

    She fluttered her long eyelashes and stood on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck. “Do you want me?” She asked, doing her best to make her voice as sultry as she could.

    Tom was hesitant to move from her touch. She smelled like freshly picked flowers, he could feel her breasts rise and fall with her intake of breath, and she was looking up at him through her lashes with parted lips and it was too much for him to handle. “What do you mean?”

    Her next sentence was almost impossible for her to choke out. She was losing her confidence, did he really not know what she meant or was he playing dumb to avoid hurting her feelings? “Do you wanna kiss me?” She averted her eyes before quickly adding, “it’s okay if you don’t.”

    “Sweetheart,” Tom started and she stumbled away from him, not even waiting to hear what he had to say.

    “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh,” She stuttered, ignoring his pleas for her to come back to him. She couldn’t believe that she had just spent the entire night humiliating herself.

    Tom jogged down the street after her, thanking the universe that the heels she wore were so high that she couldn’t really move too quickly without falling over. He curled a soft hand around her arm, pulling her back into his chest.

    “You didn’t stop and listen to me,” Tom chided, before wrapping another arm around her to keep her in place. “What I was going to ask you is where this is all coming from? You said you didn’t want anything other than friendship, and I don’t want this to be just a one night thing. You mean too much to me for that. I’m just confused is all.”

    “I wanna be with you, Tom, isn’t that obvious? I really like you, and I just thought that if you didn’t like me, maybe this would help?” Her eyes were tearing, her brain was melting and her hands shook. She couldn’t concentrate on anything but him.

    Tom let out a belly laugh, “what are you talking about? Of course I like you, I’ve been telling my mum for months that I love you! This is ridiculous, you didn’t need to do all this!” Tom exclaimed, his words not registering in his mind until a soft ‘oh’ fell from her lips.

    “Can, could, you, do you want to say that again?” She stammered, covering his lips tenderly with her own before Tom even had a chance to respond. Breaking away almost as soon as she started, she took his cheeks in her palms and whispered, “I love you.”

    Everything was happening so rapidly, and Tom firmly grasped her waist and pulled her in to kiss him. They made-out so furiously on the sidewalk that they got numerous honks and catcalls from passing cars and bikers alike.

    Tom groaned into her mouth when her body brushed up against the hardness constricted by his black jeans. “I love you and I wanted our first kiss to be romantic, but I swear to god darling, if we keep at this, I’m going to ruin these pants.”

    She kissed the corner of his mouth before taking his hand and pulling him behind the corridor Tom had found a few minutes before. As soon as the corridor’s pillars provided them coverage, she sank to her knees in front of Tom. “I’ve never done this before, so you’re going to have to teach me.”

    “No, no, I didn’t mean that you had to do this, not if you don’t want to,” Tom said, urging her to get up as the image of her on her knees for him made his jeans even tighter, if that was even possible anymore. He couldn’t imagine her doing it to him here, well he could, but he didn’t want her to feel obligated to suck him off before she was ready, especially seeing as this was her first time.

    “Tom,” she said, without budging, “I want to. I think about it all the time.”

    He cursed again, the thought of her getting off to thoughts of him was almost too much. Tom palmed himself through his jeans.

    “Just tell me how you want me,” She said, her voice sounding as Tom imagined silk would feel against his skin.

    “Fuck,” he mumbled, “you’re sure? If you wanna stop, just say so and I’ll be okay with it.” Tom bent down to kiss her, already planning to reciprocate back at her apartment. “I’m not going to last long because you’ve been prancing around nearly naked all night long.”

    A blush spread across her cheeks as she began to undo his jeans.

    Tom moaned as soon as she touched him, and he moaned even louder when the warmth of her mouth slid down his length. “Fucking hell, baby,” he rasped out, begining to instruct her on how to take him.

    After about ten minutes, he was done. He was struggling to still his hips and his hands had tangled themselves into her shiny locks, and Tom knew that he was going to finish. He swore that if she gagged again, he’d blow right there.

    “You’ve done so well, sweetheart,” Tom groaned, removing a hand from her hair to place it on the hollows of her cheek. “Let me finish it.”

    She didn’t halt her movements but Tom could tell that she was confused. At this point, she was taking him so deep that he could feel her fluttering lashes against his skin.

    “No, darling, I’m going to cum. If you don’t wanna swallow, you need to stop.” Tom advised, not having the willpower to move away from her heavenly mouth.

    On that note, she started bobbing her head even faster, and taking Tom so far back that he was almost positive he was going to hit the back of her throat. He cursed, unable to form a coherent sentence, all he could think of her how good she felt. A moment later, he came down her throat, and she sucked him off even through that.

    When she released him from the slickness of her mouth, the first thing Tom did was bend down to kiss her swollen lips. “I fucking love you,” he groaned breathlessly.

    Her eyes closed and she drifted into the warmth of his touch, “tell me again.” And Tom did, helping her to her feet and removing the jean jacket she’d given back to him at the restaurant. Tom helped her slide it on and buttoned it up almost all the way.

    He kissed her nose, “what do you want to do, my love?”

    She beamed shyly up at him, “can we go home and do it again?”

    Tom pressed an openmouthed kiss to her neck, “oh yeah, baby, you haven’t had your turn yet.”

   


Temptation (M)

A one-shot for a lovely anon. Enjoy it mate ;)

Moodboard

Jungkook and Reader

Genre: Werewolf! Jungkook, smut

Word count: 4,126 words

~•~•~•~

Bang. Bang. Bang.

“Jungkook!”

No answer.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

“Jungkook!”

Still no answer. You didn’t care that an old lady walking behind you gave you a very dirty look before shuffling down the corridor to her own apartment. It was only the manners instilled by your parents that stopped you from shooting daggers right back at her.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“JEON JUNGKOOK! Open the fucking door right now or I -”

Your shouts as well as your fist froze in mid-air when the door whipped open to reveal the man whose name you’d been yelling at the top of your lungs.

“Why the hell are you banging my door down?” Jungkook’s frown and his tone told you that he was irritated, which fueled your anger even more. He had no right to be annoyed at you after the shit he had put you through today.

“Why weren’t you at work?” You managed to lower your volume now that there wasn’t a door separating the two of you, but you made sure that he knew how angry you were.

“I took a day off, but I’m sure you could have gotten that information from the HR.”

His flippant answer didn’t impress you one bit. “You know that isn’t what I’m talking about.”

“Then what are you talking about?” The question came out sounding incredulous, but you didn’t miss the uncomfortable shuffling of the guilty man. He knew what you were talking about. Before you could point it out, however, a high-pitched woman’s voice called from inside his apartment.

“Who’s at the door, babe? Come back to bed, I can’t wait anymore!”

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Azriel set Elain down on the tiled shower floor, but he didn’t let her go. He reached over and turned the faucet. Warm water rained down on them. They shivered together for a few moments until their bodies warmed. Slowly, he turned up the temperature.

He wasn’t sure how long they stood there, how long he might have listened to the beating of her heart through the sound of the falling water. Her head was pressed against his chest, and he wondered if she were listening to his heart, too.

When they’d both stopped shivering, Elain lifted her head. “Where are we?”

Water dripped from his face and hair as he looked down at her. “My house.”

“Where is your house?”

“Just outside Velaris. In the cliffs by the sea.”

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