carpet-bag

Frozen Water Vapor (M)

Originally posted by dazzlingkai

Genre: Smut/Fluff

Summary: The first snowfall of winter. The flurries comfort you in the midst of heartache. You love Chanyeol and Baekhyun, but they’re so happy in their newfound relationship. Baekhyun is so happy with Chanyeol, but he misses your touch on his skin. You would never think of getting in the middle of them, not two of your closest friends. Baekhyun thinks otherwise. (Baekhyun x Reader x Chanyeol)

Warnings:
Polyamory, Rough Sex, Cheating

Word Count: 2,427

Written by: Smutty Jaefairy

A/N: This is a personal fantsy of mines that I formatted into a reader story. I’m such a wet noodle for Baekhyun, I’m sorry I’m like this.

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Untitled ficlet: Dean gets magically whammied

Spell’s incomplete when it gets tossed at Dean by the witch to try and slow him down, leading to only Dean getting affected, and to him ending up with the ability to scent people like something out of an urban fantasy novel.

Since Dean’s not hurt, they aren’t too worried by it- even if Dean tends to follow Sam around or even get mad because “Fucking hell, Sam, you smell like a damn bakery. I need something with cinnamon now.”

Sometimes the smell has obvious meanings no one mentions, like how Mary smells like a burnt pie- love that turns into disappointment.

Sadder still, and a secret he keeps to himself, is when Dean digs out Charlie’s left behind duffle he’d kept just in case… just in case. He cries when he smells her. Cries like he never got to when he lost her.

Coming into the library to see Castiel seated in one of the chairs, Dean’s eyes sort of glaze over, and the next thing he knows there’s a hand on his shoulder and one at his waist (not the same person) and two people saying his name in concern, and Dean blinks and pushes himself up and back, like dragging himself awake from sleep- though he knows he’s awake- with a gruff, “What?” and Sam can’t seem to even make words, though his face does a series of odd things, and then he hears a low, “Dean" soft and pointed and near, and Dean finds himself blinking in confusion into blue eyes aaannnddd Dean has somehow crawled into the chair to straddle Cas’ lap and basically bury his nose at Cas’ neck and shoulder smelling him.

He kind of wants to get back to that, actually. Sam shifts around, brows furrowed and hazel eyes more worried than amused. “Dude, are you high? Cas, I think you got him high. Look at his pupils.”

Dean feels high, actually, and snickers with the realization. And kind of want to lick a stripe up Cas’ neck. From the flush of heat on the angel’s face, Dean thinks he might have already. And, oh yeah, aside from giggles, that’s another side affect when Dean and drugs mix, which he can feel very evidently as he shifts to try and shove himself away.

“Sam, get him away from me. Or me from him,” a laugh, “He’s catnip and I wanna climb him like a tree,” followed by more giggles.

Sam drags him away, barking orders for Dean to both stop fighting him as well as to stop talking, herding him out into the garage, and Dean nearly purrs when he scents the Impala, happily climbing into the car and lounging back in contentment.

“You… better now?” Sam asks worriedly. He’s breathing heavily like he had to practically drag Dean the rest of the way, scared and aggravated in one.

Dean can only chuckle and wave him away, before settling back to sleep.

The next time he wakes, it’s to fingers gripping his chin and turning his head, and Dean is suddenly very alert at the sight of Rowena and Sam, eyes zeroing in on her.

She waves his brother away. “Run along, Samuel. He’ll be fine.” Standing, she offers out her hand, which he immediately takes, letting her lead him from the garage. “We’ll be in the library.”

Dean’s obedient as she tells him to sit on the end of the table, eyes studying her as she moves, pulling things from a carpet bag and setting them on the table near a bowl.

“It smells like Lysol,” he says softly.

“They wanted to make it safe for you to come back in the bunker.” She glanced at him with a coy smirk. “Heard you made quite the display.”

He can’t stop staring, fingers reaching out to pluck at one long curl. “You don’t, though.”

She falters with a blink, expression going guarded as she busies herself. “And what do I smell like?”

“It’s… complicated. Sweet, like sunlight and honey on the tip of your tongue,” he answers a little dreamily, like he’d been laying out in the sun and wanted a nap. “It’s warm like tea. Flowers in springtime. It suits you somehow.” There’s pink on her cheeks even as he releases the coiled lock. “What’s wrong with me?”

She pats his knee. “Nothing serious,” she comforts, voice soft and, for once, genuine. “Your body is under the effects of an incomplete spell for a sixth sense and psychic abilities. Your brain is interpreting partial readings of the world around you using the senses you have- all well and good, so long as you’re dealing with a mortal.” Straightening, she tapped the tip of his nose with her finger. “The supernatural on the other hand? You smell magic on me. Things a bit warm and fuzzy at the edges? Feel a wee floaty? Like a dream?” He nodded. “Aye. That’ll do it.”

He struggles to remember, earlier in the library when he’d had a bad- or very good reaction to- “Cas.” He looks at her. “What happened with Cas?”

Her lips purse like she’s trying not to smile. “Apparently, your bonny angel is- well, Samuel says you were immediately intoxicated and quite giddy. Whether from, ah, feeling not exactly platonic or just sensing the divine, I’m afraid I don’t know. Perhaps a mixture of cause and effect. Drink this.”

Obeying, he pulls a face at the taste, and hands the container back. She’s studying him. “What?”

“You… you just did it. No suspicion. No threats. You obeyed.”

She starts working on another concoction, Remedy Part II, he guesses.

“You’re not here to hurt me,” he answers. “Why wouldn’t I?” Something spikes in the way she smells, tangy like orange slices, and he think he may have embarrassed her, but then is immediately distracted again, reaching forward once more. “I like your hair.”

Two concoctions later, the room loses the dreamlike quality for something more real, before he starts feeling very heavy and sleepy.

“Samuel!” Rowena calls, stepping to the side as Sam rounds the corner, catching Dean as he slumps forward, half-asleep already. “The rest is sleep,” she soothes, fingers gentle where they touch him.

He comes only partially to, later, awakened by the sense of a familiar presence that has him reaching out blindly, index finger hooking around the tips of Castiel’s that hang over the arm of the chair.

Material shifts, and Dean can tell his patient waiting is replaced with alert relief. He cracks open a eye, trying to focus even as he feels himself drifting back under.

“Sorry…’bout before.” He yawns and snuggles more comfortably into his pillow and memory foam mattress, settling. “You still smell nice, though. I like it. Like you.” Sleep saps strength from his arm, making his hand fall away. “You always smell nice… Catnip.”

If he was going to say more than that, he doesn’t get to, and he doesn’t remember it when he wakes up. He buys Rowena some specialty tea as a thank-you, and sends it with a card.

He still zones out sometimes. At the scent of coffee or flowers or as light refracts brightly and it’ll take him a moment to come back to himself, shaking away the fog like a forgotten dream.

“Dean?”

Green eyes drift to the angel that had been walking beside him, then down to the bouquet of sunflowers he vaguely remembers selecting from the cart. “They’re you.” Cas clearly lacks all understanding in his meaning, which is drifting so quickly, Dean hardly remembers it himself. “They look like you,” he tries, knowing it’s not right, and grip loose as Castiel takes them from him.

A flush spreads across the angel’s cheeks and Dean wonders at it and then down at the flowers he’s holding, gesturing to them and trying to remember when they stopped. “…you like those or something? We can get ‘em for the bunker if you want.”

Cas angles his head, smiling. “I do like them.” He steps forward, gaze dropping to Dean’s mouth and then back up. “And, you don’t remember this conversation, but… I like you, too, Dean.” His brows knit as he tries to remember the exact wording. “Like catnip.”

Dean doesn’t remember, but something beyond memory does, something that has him smoothing a hand up the line of Cas’ neck to cup his jaw and slot their mouths together.

Dean freaking loves witches.

Sherlolly Appreciation Week, Day 5- The Abominable Bride

Hello again! I was kind of excited to try this theme because I actually never wrote anything at all to do with TAB since it aired over a year ago. Tbh, I wasn’t terribly inspired by it at the time. But that’s another story lol. Now I was happy to try! So although this isn’t technically canon, it also doesn’t conflict with the canon of that episode. It could certainly fit if you’d like it to…I know I would. :)) 


A War He Must Lose

“Going somewhere?”

The deep echo of Sherlock’s voice in the back alley caused the small woman to halt and slowly turn. Once she was facing him, he could see the fear in her eyes. It occurred to him that she was afraid of him and that cut him deeply.

“Suppose I’m not anymore,” she said bitterly. “You’ve come to stop me, I assume?”

“I have,” Sherlock admitted.

She nodded. “And is the whole of Scotland Yard out front then? Waiting to take me away?” she asked through grit teeth.

Sherlock approached her slowly, again noting her trepidation. “No, Molly.”

Her lips parted in momentary shock. “Y-you know…you remember.”

“Of course I remember, yes. Do you really expect that I wouldn’t recognize a childhood schoolmate who happened to have the same last name and unmistakable eyes as a rather short and slight, but supposedly male, doctor at Bart’s hospital?” He raised a brow.

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a list of nice things

- strawberry lemonade
- soft hands
- naps
- large windows
- cold sunny weather
- quiet beaches
- puppies
- flower shops
- oranges
- ice cubes
- lemon slices
- those eye masks you put in the fridge so they feel cool and refreshing on your face
- backpacks
- little bags
- rugs
- carpeted staircases
- cashmere blankets
- the color red
- the smell of salt water
- pebble beaches
- sea towns
- sofas
- dusty smelling bookshelves
- wood
- stair rails
- house front steps
- local boutiques
- lavender
- green tea
- ladders
- sweater dresses
- loft beds
- duvets
- wooden shelves on walls
- stones
- the smell of pine
- being indoors during a rainstorm
- golden hour
- creaky cabinets
- socks
- old shoes
- the sound grandfather clocks make
- carpeted houses
- throw pillows
- furniture
- pretty china
- record players
- library stamps
- notes
- handwriting
- peppermint
- old photos
- succulents
- sleepovers
- late night conversations
- bed tables
- lamps on bed tables
- bell peppers
- paintings
- clean paintbrushes
- letters
- things that you can hang from the ceiling
- the smell of hotels
- golf fields
- wild flowers
- dresses
- good fitting jeans
- jackets
- knitwear
- libraries
- finding notes in used books
- small roads
- gravel roads
- fences
- shop houses
- bakeries
- well decorated cafes
- french coffee shop music
- light
- roses
- embroidery
- sorbet
- frozen grapes
- raspberries when theyre still a bit sour but almost ripe
- baths
- deer
- whale watching
- blankets
- homeware shops
- sea towns
- cliffs
- hawaii
- eyelashes
- san francisco
- nice hair
- clear skin
- you!!

The Adventure Continues // Na Jaemin

Pt 1

-

summary: prince!jaemin part two where jaemin and you meet again, only this time he is engaged to be married.

words: 6063

category: angst + fluff, prince au

author note: it was nice to return to this au (also it somehow turned into my second longest scenario ever so maybe i got a bit carried away but how can you not it’s jaEMIN). as usual i miss jaemin and wish he would just show himself to us bc i miss my bestest pal. i hope he’s safe and healthy and being loved by his family.

- destinee

Originally posted by jaehyunsleatherpants

honestly if sm doesn’t update us on this pure snickerdoodle i will swim over to south korea mYSELF WATCH ME

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A wonderfully insightful peek at Anne the Series.  An exploration of the contents of the battered carpet bag that Anne uses to house her meager possessions.  Full of touching little insights into who she is.  That’s the mark of a well-thought-out show.  Even if we may never see the contents of that bag onscreen, the producers still fill it with meaningful little details.  That way, the world of the show is filled out, even if we don’t see all of its hidden corners.

And Moira Walley-Beckett’s description is poignant as she reflects on how that bag is an important echo of Anne herself…

“The carpet bag is Anne’s one worldly possession.  It’s this place that holds… the tiny things that she owns.  And its broken and battered and stained… and has been repaired countless times.  And it’s something that somebody didn’t want… just like her…”


Richonne AU (Forbidden Love) Your Love For All Of Time pt 2

Happy Birthday @siancore I did a part 2 as requested for you and all those who asked. I hope everyone enjoys.

xxxxxxxx

Michonne stood and looked around her small quarters one last time. She had tidied it so if looked the same way she found it a year ago.

“So Mr.Blake informed me you were his governess for little Penny.” Mr. Walsh said, as he looked at the young, black woman in front of him. He immediately decided she was a serious little thing. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun of coily, curls. Although a few tiny curls escaped and rested against her forehead. She wore a bright, long-sleeved white blouse that had a collar buttoned all the way up to base of her neck. It was tucked into a long, dark skirt that failed to hide her shapely figure. Her hands clasped in front of her. If not for her youthful features and large sparkling, brown, almond shaped eyes she would be the spitting image of his governess. Do they all dress alike? He wondered.

“Yes sir.” Michonne answered, she swallowed and looked as if she was blinking back tears. “Such a tragedy what happened to his wife and daughter.” Mr. Walsh said. The wife and daughter of her former employer were killed when their horse got spooked and ran their carriage into a lake bringing them back from church. None of the passengers could swim. Mr. Blake wasn’t fond of church service and he was not present. Michonne had saved enough to visit her father on weekends off from teaching, so she wasn’t there with them that tragic day. “Mr.Blake is certain he wants to part with you?” Mr. Walsh asked. When Mr. Blake had asked him to employ Michonne he didn’t look to be in any state to be alone, as most of the staff had left, expect a few and Michonne. Michonne. The only one seemingly able to handle his grief…until now.

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r-n-w  asked:

YES TO DICE AESTHETICS! Here's mine: Avery Steinbeak (Wizard) - A condescending brown owl who lives in a library tower, swotting up on spells any chance he gets. Spell books are too heavy for him to carry around, so each spell he learns is inscribed as a glowing gold rune symbol on the tip of a wing feather. He wears a green fedora and carries an old lady's carpet bag in his talons. He fancies himself as an Indiana Jones type but is actually very conservative and cowardly.

Browns and greens swirled with gold

Thief Pt 5 // Park Jimin

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt 4

- Part Five: Courage

summary: in which prince jimin doesn’t know that his future wife is not only trying to steal from him, but is also trying to kill him.

words: 2,683

warnings: mentions of abuse

category: prince au, fantasy au

author note: i hope this chapter makes up for the fact that i skipped last week’s update.

- destinee

Originally posted by princejimin

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anonymous asked:

Quick story: me, working at a gas station during the summer, a mile or so away from my grandpa's house. working normally, no customers. only employee there in the little shop thing. this woman comes in, huge carpet bag in one hand. no car in sight, so i assume she walked. "Can i help you ma'am?" lady says no, but walks to counter. pulls out a coyote skull (common in nebraska) and gives it to me (uncommon). lady leaves. i put the skull in a drawer behind the counter. its probably still there.

Why would you abandon your gift? Rude! Rude and mean!

anonymous asked:

3?? :0 or 9? if you rather?

3. “I just want to see you smile…”

(This got long, but I could not help myself)

~~~

“What are you doing, Anxiety?”

Prince looked, well, the same as he had for the past day. Inconvenienced. Annoyed. Upset.

Detached.

**24 hours earlier**

“Anxiety, have you seen Prince?”

Anxiety looked up from his notebook, filled with tons of notes on the care of marine plant life, to see Dad staring at him expectantly.

“No? Should I have seen him?”

It’s not like he had a tracker on the man.

“Well, no one knows where he is. He’s not in his room, we don’t think, and he’s not with Thomas. You’re our only other guess.”

Anxiety motioned around the commons, “Obviously he’s not here.”

Dad sighed, “Well, if you see him, tell him we’re looking for him.”

Anxiety didn’t see anyone for another two hours, and the next person he saw was Logic.

“Hey, have you seen Prince?”

“I already told Dad, no.”

He didn’t even bother looking up this time.

Only fifteen minutes later, the two children who always followed Dad around appeared.

“Hey, have you seen-”

“The Prince isn’t here, now go away!”

An hour later, and another person walked in.

“Before you ask, No, I don’t know where Prince is, now go away.”

“Well that’s odd, considering I was hiding in your room.”

Anxiety looked up in surprise and sure enough, there stood Prince in all his glimmering, smiling- wait.

“Who are you?”

The other looked at him odd.

“I’m Prince?”

“No, you definitely aren’t.”

There was no way this was Prince. Anyone looking that-that- that detached couldn’t be Prince!

“I think I know who I am, Anxiety.”

His tone of voice, low and dripping with sarcasm, shocked Anxiety.

What was going on?

Anxiety watched the other grab a book and sit down in the corner of the room, not even in a chair- he just sat on the floor, and hide his face behind it.

Anxiety looked back at his notes, shut the book, and walked over to the other.

“Umm, Prince?”

The other hummed in acknowledgement.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Anxiety backed away to the other side of the room.

He didn’t like this. At. All. Something was wrong, and may Mary Poppins lose her umbrella in her carpet bag if he was just going to sit around and watch his boyfriend behave like this.

So the plan began.

He began with dinner. He made Prince his favorite meal (spaghetti and meatballs) and even played the music from Lady and the Tramp. No reaction. He forced, yes Forced, the other sit down and watched Frozen with him, and he just leaned against the arm of the couch the whole time and didn’t pay attention. When it came time to sleep, he let Prince sleep in his bed (which he never let happen. They either slept in Prince’s bed or they slept in their own), but the royal butt just rolled over and fell asleep. The next morning he made the other pancakes, and even had his pesky blue bird wake him up by singing, but he waved the bird away and declined the pancakes.

Anxiety was at his witts end. He didn’t know what had caused the Prince’s foul mood, and nothing he did was fixing it. In a last ditch effort, he initiated a cuddle session, but the other had gently pushed him away and said he wasn’t feeling up to it.

Anxiety finally gave up and hugged the other as he tried leaving his bedroom. When he tried pushing Anxiety off, Anxiety only clung tighter to his waist.

“What are you doing, Anxiety?”

Anxiety looked at the other, but Prince looked, well, the same as he had for the past day. Inconvenienced. Annoyed. Upset.

Detached.

“I just want to see you smile…” He mumbled into the other’s neck.

Nothing happened for a bit, but after a while Prince finally returned the hug, but not as tightly as Anxiety was used to.

“I’m sorry,” He apologized, “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Well you did!”

He chuckled, and Anxiety pulled back in time to see, not quite a smile but not the frown that had graced the others lips for the past day.

“Seriously, what’s wrong, Prince? This isn’t like you.”

Prince stared at him for a moment or two before smirking.

“Kiss me.”


Anxiety stared at him as if he’d grown a second head.

“What?”

“True loves kiss always makes things better.”

Anxiety shook his head, but leaned in quickly. Prince obviously hadn’t actually expected him to comply, but Anxiety refused to see his beloved sad a moment longer.

The kiss was chaste, but it did the trick. When Anxiety pulled back the other was smiling.

“You will tell me eventually what’s bugging you right?”

“Maybe if you have something to trade~”

“Why do I love you?”

The smile he received was the biggest yet.

Haley, 27

“I’m wearing a high-waisted 40s long skirt, a burgundy turtleneck, vintage German shoes, Chinese pajamas, a Naga ceremonial necklace, a Turkish carpet bag; and day old Halloween make-up. My style is inspired by old Hollywood, mid-century explorers, old hippies of Mendocino, and my husband. I love contrasting big patterns, fabrics that are damaged and decayed, and anything that makes me feel magical.”

Oct 29, 2016 ∙ Russian Hill
3

New Concept: Fairy Train.

It’s a speacil kind of train that only runs at midnight. Humans that find the train are usually ones who desire to dissapear. The Train is run by strange creatures who say they’re fairies, but they look nothing like the fairies of lore. They’re most likely interdimensional creatures on a daily commute between our world and theirs.

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anonymous asked:

Y'all is a contraction of "You" and "All", so the apostrophe is between the Y and A.

put your fancy word marks in your carpet bag and get back to new yawk city boy

A Magical Gift

Aeleara stared down at the carpet she had just finished sewing. So many hours had been poured into its creation. She glanced at her fingers, riddled with a few sewing needle pricks here and there. She had just finished adding the final touches to the carpet by sewing additions to its corners that could snugly fit an enchanted orb into. The paladin placed all four of the orbs in their respective corners and took a step back, watching curiously as the carpet sprung to life. Or at least it appeared to.

She glanced over it, appreciating the colors she had dyed it with. The colors were that of Embertree Courts. Its crest, a sword piercing a crown, was embroidered neatly in the middle of the rug. Aeleara got down on her knee and proclaimed “Report to Embertree Court. You are to serve Esme Sunshard, and her husband, Faervell Bael’nar.”

Atop the carpet she placed a bag, filled with other sewn goods made from Shal’dorei silk. There was a circular pillow and a comfortable blanket, and nestled in the middle was a bottle of red wine. The carpet hovered off the ground and began to fly toward Embertree.

Hours later, it had arrived and found a nice patch of shade outfront of the Court to rest at until it was found.


@jessipalooza @pyrar ))

Unstudy buddy// Jeon Wonwoo

Originally posted by wonyeols

Pairing: Wonwoo x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Snuggling with Wonwoo is always the best after a stressful day

Author’s Note: What can I say, I’m hella weak for the hip hop unit okay don’t judge me you’re lying to yourself if you say you’re not weak for at least one boy in that unit

xoxo Sara


You had stopped texting everyone today, not wanting to be bothered with anyone as you were studying for a huge exam that you had coming up, But ignoring your boyfriend was harder than you have expected it to be.

You and Wonwoo have been dating for six months, and it has been a wonderful six months indeed. He had always been there when you needed him, whether you were sad and you needed his dumb dad jokes, you were lonely and you needed his arms wrapped around you while you two snuggled on the couch, or you just needed him to run to the store for you because you were too lazy to get up. Regardless of the request, he always did it.

But this request was hard, as he knew how you treated yourself when you studied.

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