colors for a large wall

Keep waking me up at 5:30am?

Second attempt. First time it got eaten.

I lived in a very ghetto apartment complex for a while. While there I was working grave yard shift, and there was a car that would come at 5:30am on week days to pick up SOMEONE and they would lay on the horn for at least 20 minutes. They would never get out of the car, they would just lay on the damned horn.

I did ask them politely, once, to stop, to go knock, I work grave yard and would like to sleep. I basically got told to fuck off. Ok, you’ve asked for it.

He was driving a VERY pimped out Cadillac. Maroon in color, tinted windows, gold rims, large white wall tires, etc. Obv very proud of his ride. I waited a month, so it wouldn’t be obvious it was me, then I borrowed a paint ball gun from a guy at work. I took the screen off my window facing where he always parks, and waited for the next morning.

When he started laying on his horn I sprayed his car with neon orange paint. He stopped laying on his horn after that. I think I made my point.

Camera Obscura | 01

☇  arranged marriage au (with a twist)

genre: angst and slight fluff

pairing: jungkook // you ft. kim taehyung + ot7

word count: 3.1k

warnings: none

DescriptionYou’re rich, beautiful, intelligent – you have it all. With your father’s illness, you step up to take his place as the CEO of his company. You’re happy, or at least, you should be. But the top of the pyramid is always the loneliest… that is, until you meet Jeon Jungkook.

EDIT: just a disclaimer, i’ve heard that this chap. seems similar to the webtoon “outside the box” but i have a completely different storyline planned!! i’ve had this idea for a while now, even before i read the webtoon. so pls don’t worry! everything is my original work.

↳  01

A/N: something new I’m trying…I’ve made the main character complex and flawed on purpose, but you’ll start seeing character development as the story goes on, should I actually have the inspiration to continue this.

Y/N : your name  L/N : your last name  F/N : your full name  [ages are adjusted to suit story line]


You nod at the man in front of you as you approach him through the sliding glass doors, heels clicking on the polished floor. It’s been cleaned so thoroughly that you can see a clear, precise reflection of yourself. The large glass windows around the building stretch from floor to ceiling, giving you a direct view of the bustling city beneath you with its busy roads and colorful cars. The inside is a large and practical setup – crisp white walls, modern furniture and accessories, sophisticated elevators and many, many office rooms and meeting areas.

“Namjoon,” you greet calmly. “Is everything ready?”

Kim Namjoon. 25 years old, yet already so high up the corporate ladder. He was one of your father’s closest employees as secretary, and now he is your Chief Operating Officer.

“Director Lee has prepared all the files and paperwork for you,” Namjoon answers, straightening his black tie and suit as he joins you on your walk down to your office. Many of the employees stop and greet you as you walk past, giving you slight bows.

“I’m quite surprised he’s working so well with me,” you comment casually. You’ve reached your office, and you pause to adjust your black blouse before entering your password into the keypad next to your office door. It beeps before the doors slide open. “I haven’t heard a complaint from him in weeks now. If I recall correctly, he was one of the men who strongly opposed me taking my father’s position.”

“Perhaps he has decided you are fit,” suggests Namjoon as he follows you into your office. The doors slide shut behind him.

Your office is large, spacious, and clutter free. Two sofas are set around a miniature round table, where a tea set is placed neatly. A water cooler is near the wall opposite of the skyscraper windows. There is nothing laying around. All your papers are stowed and filed into their respective folders and desk drawers. You head to the back of the room where your desk is. It is shiny and sleek, with a lamp, your laptop, and office computer.

Keep reading

jonghyun’s new album sounds like i should be sitting in a cafe with someone right now

Mad: Part 1

“We’re all a little crazy on the inside. Some are just better at hiding it than others.”

Warning: Will contain smut, violence and tense situations in later chapters

Teaser  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7

Keep reading

Heart and Daggers part 2! Hope all enjoy
After Klaus left I went to bed feeling drained. I didn’t have to pack, everything that was at the apartment I had bought either, all my other belongings were at the house in the quarter. I laid in bed second guessing myself until I fell asleep. Early in the morning there was a knock on my door then Rebekah’s voice, “rise and shine Juliana.” She waltzed into the bedroom. I let out a groan, “did you have to come this early?”

“Yes, Elijah’s still asleep. Now come on, Klaus has everything ready, your room all set up.” She pulled the blankets off and left the room. I got up and dressed rather quickly not wanting Elijah to wake before I got there.

“Ready now?” Rebekah asked by the door. I nodded grabbing a coat, “yeah.”

“Good, my car is out front.” She left swiftly and I followed locking the door behind me.

“Now the room Klaus picked out for you is on the other side of the house, near his, and it’s big.” Rebekah talked through the drive to the house, I answered every once in awhile with a nod, or a few words.

“Here we are, come on I’ll show you to your room.” Rebekah took me inside, up some stairs and down a hallway to some rooms.

“Here’s yours.” She opened a door and let me in. She wasn’t kidding when she told me the room was big, it had cream colored walls, a large bed with purple covers opposite the door, a wardrobe, desk, and its own bathroom. I soon found that Klaus had indeed moved everything of mine into the room, clothes, pictures(none of Elijah, which I was grateful for), new blankets, and covers.

“Will it suit you?” Klaus asked suddenly standing in the door. I turned and nodded, “thank you Klaus.”

“We’ll leave you to get settled. If you’re hungry just let us know.” Rebekah said walking back out shutting the doors. I let out a shaky breath as I was left alone. Looking over my room, it looked like I had lived here for a long time. Klaus had even put a few books on my night stand. My stomach was turning from nervous and anticipation. I sat on the bed trying to read and listened to the household wake, Klaus had been yelling at someone or about something. Suddenly there was a knock on my door.

“Juliana?” Cami’s voice questioned.

“Come in.” I answered and smiled as she entered.

“Hey.” She says kindly, “what’s up?”

“Nothing really, just reading.” I responded.

“I was wondering if you’d like to get a coffee? Walk around town for a bit?” She asked.

“Sure, just let me get my purse.” I hopped off the bed and grabbed my purse from the closet. I was dressed in jeans with brown boots, and a violet colored top, my brown hair lying loose upon my shoulders. We made it out of the house unnoticed.

“So who asked you to do this? Klaus or Rebekah?” I asked Cami as we walked down the streets to a coffee shop.

“No one, I figured I’d come out and hang out with you. I know what you’re going through.” She explained. I smiled slightly, “thanks.” We went and got coffee, window shopped walking around town, and laughing all afternoon.

“Thanks for cheering me up.” I smiled brightly.

“No problem, it was fun.” She smiled back, “I’m sorry to leave but I gotta start my shift.” She said apologetically.

“It’s okay. I had a really good time.” I reassured her, “I’ll see you later.” With that she left. I slowly made my way back to the house. It was quiet and everything in the house seemed still. I began up the stairs when I heard other footsteps coming down. I glanced up and walked faster passing Haley. I turned a corner and was gone not stopping until I reached my room. I pushed the door open and walked in slowly seeing the figure looking around in my room.

“Can I help you?” I asked as Elijah turned around.

“I was wondering why all your things had disappeared from our room…now I know. No doubt Klaus did it.” He said looking around then to me, “he left all the pictures of you and I with me…” I saw the hurt in his eyes.

“Yes, well I think he thought it was for the best, and I agree.” I opened the door more moving to the side inviting him to leave. He didn’t.

“I’m glad your back.” He said softly coming closer.

“Klaus asked, so did Rebekah.” I responded holding my head up.

“Is that all?” He questioned.

“Klaus said I should come and hold me ground.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” He was inches from me now.

“Yes, in the process of.” I said firmly, “now I’m sure you have many things to do, so please don’t let me keep you.” I ducked away and walked further into my room. I kept my back turned to him and heard his footsteps retreat. I closed the doors to my bedroom, took a hot shower then began a new book. Suddenly I hear a loud crash followed by Klaus yelling. I looked up slowly waiting for a response. Soon another crash came followed by more yelling. I got up quickly and jogged to Klaus’s painting room. I looked in and saw Klaus bursting with rage, Elijah was in the room his back turned towards the door, so was Rebekah. Klaus suddenly hurled a large old vase out the door narrowly missing my head.

“You know now I’m gonna have to explain that to the museum.” I said as it broke on the ground. I walked further into the room.

“Niklaus please calm down.” Elijah said.

“What’s happening?” I asked standing next to Rebekah.

“Klaus lost Lucian.” She answered clearly bored with her brothers’ attitude.

“I DID NOT LOSE HIM!” He shouted, “IT-IT WAS THOSE IMBECILES! THE THINGS THAT THINK THEY ARE WORTHY ENOUGH TO SERVE ME! THE STUPID IGNORANT VAMPIRES HAVE LOST LUCIAN.” He gritted his teeth, “now I have to pick up they failed, I have to stop my search for the witches, who are trying to kill my child, and chase after a LUNATIC!!”

“We are all protecting her, Nick.” Rebekah answered, “nothing is going to happen to her.”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW?!” He yelled stepping closer.

“Niklaus please. Let’s be rational about this,” Elijah spoke, and I looked straight ahead, “we can track down the witches then Lucian.”

“I can track down Lucian.” I spoke up earning looks from all three of them, “if we split up we can, we can get both things done faster.”

“No, not alone it’s too risky.” Elijah said before turning back to Klaus, he began to speak again but I stopped him, “you don’t get to decide that.” He looked at me again stepping closer, “he is too dangerous, you are not going out there alone.”

“And why are you the one that gets to decide what I can and cannot do?” I hissed stepping up to him, “I got rid of him once before when you could not.”

“She has a point Elijah.” Klaus stepped up, glancing at him then looking at me, “you can go. Take Marcel. The last of my vampires heard of him, he was near an old farm house.” He handed me a piece of paper with an address on it.

“Thank you.” I grabbed the slip of paper and walked out, and down the stairs.

“Juliana.” I heard Elijah call, “Juliana, wait.” I kept walking. Suddenly he flashed in front of me. I stopped with an irritated sigh and looked up at him.

“Don’t do this.” He said, “not alone.”

“I’ll be with Marcel.” I answered.

“And what protection will he offer you? Lucian is stronger than him.” He continued, “let me come with you.”

“Why do you automatically assume that I will fail? I got rid of him last time.”

“Does it not strike you as odd at how easily he backed off last time? How do you know this will not be a trap?” He stepped closer his voice soft. A shiver went down my spine having him so close.

“I don’t expect it to be anything less.” I answered, “I’m not an idiot, neither is Marcel. Now let me go. You can do what you’re good at and stay here with Hayley.” I turned on my heel and left.

“So I trust you have an address?” Marcel asked sliding into the passenger’s seat.

“Yep.” I handed him the slip of paper.

“Alright let’s go.” He buckled as I drove off, “so Klaus filled me in a bit, you think it’s a trap?”

“Don’t know what else it would be. He gave up too easily last time.” I kept my eyes on the road.

“Mhm…so how are things?” He asked, his voice sounded hesitant. I glanced at him, and shrugged, “I don’t really wanna talk about it.”

“Understandable.” He nodded patting his legs, silence filled the air.

“We’re here.” I said after about twenty more minutes of driving. We had stopped outside of town at an old rundown farm house, “lets go see what we can find.”

“It looks empty.” Marcel answered walking up the stairs.

“I think that’s the point.” I answered looking in the window.

“So, are we supposed to bring him back alive? Or not alive?” He answered trying the door, it was locked.

“Alive, Klaus wants to talk to him.” I answered, then went to the door and pushed on it until it opened breaking the hinges. We walked into the house carefully hearing nothing at first, it looked like no one lived there.

“This place looks deserted.” Marcel said walking around a corner.

“Remember what I said about trap.” I answered looking around.

“Juliana-” Marcel called but was cut short ending with a gurgle. I raced around the corner, and froze, Lucian stood with his arms around Marcels neck.

“Lucian don’t.” I spoke softly stepping closer.

“Not another step.” He hissed tightening his arms around Marcels neck. I stopped and raised my hands slightly, “alright, I’ll stay right here.”

“Good.” He smirked, “well since that there has been nothing thrown at my head, I assume that you two came alone.”

“They know where we are.” Marcel choked out.

“Now now, you are in no position to talk.” Lucian answered, he looked back at me, “I assume you have come here to capture me? Bring me back to Klaus?” He chuckled, “I don’t plan on seeing him again, unless it’s to kill him, and Elijah. Then after that the rest of the Mikaelsons.” He smiled smugly. I swallowed roughly, took a deep breath, then suddenly I was beside him clutching his neck.

“Let him go.” I hisssed.

“Snapping my neck won’t kill me.” He his voice tense.

“No.” I replied smoothly, “but it will give me time to bring you to Klaus…or rip your heart out.”

He chuckled and Marcel go, “do you really think I’d be doing this alone?” He mused then sent out a shrill whistle. At first nothing happened, then suddenly a large brown dog jumped on to Marcel, he screamed in agony as the wolf bit into his shoulder.

“No!” I screamed, “call them off Lucian!” I jerked him closer.

“Do you really think you’re the only ones with wolf allies?” He laughed cruelly, “try getting out of-” I snapped his neck letting him fall to the ground limp. Marvel threw the wolf off of him smashing him into a wall. I turned quickly at I heard a growl, several more wolfs moves forward. Quickly I slammed one into a wall as it lunged forward.

“There’s more this way.” Marcel breathed out.

“Try not to get bit again…” I replied. Side met all the wolf’s lunges towards me. I tossed one away as another bit into my arm. Tossing it into another room, then suddenly my body jerked downward. I held a wolf back as s it lunged at my throat. Marcel and I kept fighting as they kept biting. Finally they stopped, no more came.

“I think they’re gone.” Marcel said weakly falling towards a wall. I caught him by the arm and helped him sit.

“They bit you sever times.” I looked over his wounds.

“I think you got more.” He answered beginning to breath heavily, “I don’t think it’s good to have that much werewolf venom in your system.”

“But it won’t kill me.” I answered then glanced over at Lucian, he was still unconscious, “stay here. I have a vile of Klaus’s blood in the car.” I got up slowly and vamped towards the falling against the door. I looked threw the console until I found the bottle.

“Got it.” I stumbled back into the house and to Marcel. My chest was rising and falling rapidly as I felt my body begin to heat up. Marcel took the blood, I sat next to him against the wall, “you need to drive us home, get Lucian in the trunk.” I handed him the keys. After a few moments he got up, got Lucian and put him in the trunk. I walked to the car slowly and dizzy, Marcel helped me into the passenger seat, then he got into the driver’s seat.

“How are you feeling?” He asked starting the car.

“Like crap.” I grumbled sinking into my seat.

“We’ll be home soon.”

I closed my eyes as the car moved. Sounds seemed a distant muffle, every jolt that the car made felt like nails digging into my bones. I heard someone saying my name, but soon it drained away into nothing.

I touched the soft fabric of the draped in the room as I looked around. I turned as the door opened, Elijah walked in. I could tell by the look on his face he was concerned.

“You’re worried.” I said softly. He looked up sitting on the bed, “we are putting our lives in the hands of a stranger. It would be unwise not to worry.”

“Rebekah seems happy to be sleeping in a bed. So does Finn. We could stay here.” I replied walking closer.

“If Kol behaves, if they do not find us out, if no one is suspicious. There are too many things that could go wrong.”

“Nothing has yet.” I set a hand on his shoulder.

“That does not mean nothing will.”

“Well nothing has.” I sat next to him, “Kol seemed pleased to have a warm place to sleep. No one suspects us, how would they find out? The family we are suppose to be, are…taken care off.”

“Lucian is, if he decides to betray us, if that-”

“Elijah.” I cut him off turning his head towards me, “nothing has happened yet, take a breath. Today, was a good day.” I gently pressed my forehead to his.

“What did I do to deserve you?” He whispered. I smiled softly, “I love you.”

“Always and Forever.” He kissed my lips.
Light flooded my vision as my eyes opened slowly. Blinking I recognized the ceiling. I was back in my room, I swallowed my throat sore.

“You’re awake.” I heard the voice before I saw who it belonged too. Elijah walked forward and gently put a hand on my forehead, “how do you feel?”

“Drained.” I answered.

“You were out of it for a while.” He answered, “this is why I wanted to come with you.”

“Where’s Marcel?” I tried to sit up but Elijah gently pushed me back down, I stared up at him.

“He’s fine. You need to rest. There was a lot of-”

“Venom in my system, I know.” I finished for him. He nodded slowly, bent down to kiss my forehead, but I turned my head away. “Rest.” He whispered gently before leaving.
“You’re suppose to be resting.” Klaus said walking into my room as I finished dressing in new clothes.

“Bed rest never suited me. I feel better.” I answered turning towards him, “do you have Lucian?”

“Yes, thanks to you and Marcel he is safe and secure in the basement. Ready for me questioning him.” Klaus nodded

“Well I’m glad you have him. How did it go with the witches?”

“It was…eventful.” He said prolonging his words, “they won’t be giving us any more trouble for a while. Now I must get back to Lucian.” He went to the door but turned, “please do take it easy…and if you must know, when Marcel brought you back, Elijah? He never left your side.” With that he gracefully left the room. I sat on the bed, replaying Klaus’s words in head…honestly I didn’t know what I was thinking. I was still furious at him, hated him…but how could I hate someone that I could loved for hundreds of years. But how could he forget what we had for hundreds of years?

anonymous asked:

Hi! Blast from the past, do you happen to still recall the steak prep recipe(with the brine and newspaper) you made in a LRR video ages upon ages ago? I really enjoyed it a few years back-and as my three year run of vegetarianism is coming to a close I figured I'd pull it out again. The video looks like it's no longer up. Thanks for all you do. <3

Transcribed Verbatim by Alex Steacy From The Von Hoffman Bros’ “Big
Damn Book Of Sheer Manliness”
-Please distribute and enjoy!

Macon’s Politically Incorrect Salt Steak

This recipe involves more than a modicum of showmanship and is
guaranteed to command the attention of your guests. For maximum
effect, have them scrub up and get involved with the preparation.

But first, a word about your dinner guests. If your friends are the
type who stew over the sodium content of their Diet Cokes, who cringe
at the fat content in a Caesar salad, who fret knowing that their
Bordeaux contains sulfites, who wouldn’t dream of using real butter on
a baked potato, who use ground turkey when making a batch of chili…
If this describes your peer group, then the first order of business is
to go out and cultivate a more lively set of friends!

When you succeed in Befriending that gang who savors a good single
malt before dinner, accompanied by a generous portion of cheese,
followed by a sumptuous repast dripping with rich sauces and a variety
of wines, topped off with a good cigar and a snifter of cognac… now
you’re ready to pull out the salt steak! (Contrary to popular belief,
your new friends may have a greater life expectancy because they spend
much less time worrying about chicken shit.)


1 Large sirloin steak, 1-½ to 2 inches thick (porterhouse is also
nice!); the larger the piece of meat, the better, as it decreases the
salty outside to tasty inside ratio

6 sheets of newspaper, no color print (we prefer the Wall Street Journal)

1 Large bowl of kosher rock salt

1 Jar whole pepper corns

2 Jars Lawry’s lemon pepper

1 Bottle Worcestershire sauce

1 Jar of Grey Poupon mustard

1 roll of masking tape

10-pound  bag of Kingsford charcoal

Start by laying your fire. The biggest risk is not using enough
charcoal (more on this later). Your charcoal bed should be at least 6
inches thick (leave the grill off after you light the fire).

After you’ve got the fire started (and you’ve replenished your
favourite beverage), mix the spices (rock salt, pepper corns and lemon
pepper) together in a big bowl. Lay the six sheets of newspaper open,
and plunk that hunk of beef down in the middle o it. Open the jar of
mustard, and slather one side of the meat with a ¼-inch-thick layer
of it [1] (your friend’s eyebrows should raise perceptibly at this

Next, grab several handfuls of the spice mixture, and plaster it to
the mustard. You should have enough spice on there so that you won’t
get any mustard on your hands. Then dump enough Worcestershire on
there to color the whole thing brown. [2] Carefully turn the steak
over and repeat on the opposite side.

When you’ve finished making a mess of this beautiful piece of meat,
wrap it up in the paper, and secure with masking tape [3] (try to
cover as little area as possible with the tape-think of the ribbon on
a Xmas present). When the bundle’s secured, immerse the whole thing in
your bucket of water [4]-your guests should be howling by now!

Replenish your drink, and tell a few dirty jokes while you wait for
the fire to reach its peak. Let the bundle soak.

When the fire has reached its zenith-and your Weber is about to
melt-pull the soggy package from the bucket, squeeze out the excess
water, and throw it directly on the coals (pray that the fire does not
go out!)

Depending upon the size-of-fire to size-of-bundle ratio, allow about
10 minutes on each side. The paper should dry out, and be on the verge
of catching fire.

When the bundle is looking good and charred, [5] rescue it from the
fire, and (using your now-empty bucket) remove the paper and scrape
all the mustard and spices off the meat. The steak at this point has
been partially steam cooked, and will have a sickly white appearance

Put the grill back on your kettle, and brown the steak for 3-5 minutes
per side. When it looks like an edible piece of beef again, [6] slice
into ¼-inch-thick strips and serve. If you’ve done it right, the
steam from the newspaper has traveled through the spice layer and
impregnated the meat with flavour while retaining the juices-a
marvellous little example of applied physics.

Be careful not to overcook it though-there'as a fine line between a perfectly seasoned piece of meat and a salt lick. Good luck!


Mystic Messenger Mafia AU


Word Count: 2,758


     The night air blew a rather unpleasant chill up your skirt, and you squinted to gaze at the neon sign just above you. The Stranger Lounge, one of the hottest joints in town, and your destination for the evening.

     “Hey there, dolly,” a sandy-haired boy called over to you as he leaned against the brick wall of the place, snapping his suspenders with a wink.

     You paid him no mind as you opened the door and stepped inside. The cigar smoke hit you as hard as the music. There was laughter and chit chat from men and women alike throughout the space. Girlies with feather fans were dancing on stage for a sea of small white round tables, covered in a cream colored cloth. Along the back wall were large U-shaped booths, for the more distinguished clientele. Men in suits with fat cigars stuck between their lips laughed with young beautiful women. This is where married men came to play, and the object of their fantasies came to make a quick buck, or at least earn a new fur coat.

     It was a rambunctious space, but it wasn’t where the action was. Oh, no. For the select few in the know, there was a much better spot. It lay below, hidden in the basement of this establishment. You made your way around tables of obnoxious cackling men and doe-eyed girls all clapping as the dancers kicked their legs in the air. Down a hallway and passed the kitchen where the laughter and music was drowned by the clanking of dishes and yelling of the cooks.

     “God damn it, Jimmie! Where the fuck are my steaks?! You killin’ the cow yourself you slow son of…” their voices trailed as you walked further.

     Through another hallway and finally to a set of stairs leading you down a low narrow corridor. At the bottom lay a heavy wooden door. And behind that door lay criminals. Always the same familiar dryness in your throat as you took each step into the darkness. The click of your heels echoed off of the cold brick, counting down your last minute before entering this proverbial lions den.

     In the distance you could see a couple standing at the base of the steps. The metal slot of the door scraped open hard and a set of eyes leered through the slit.

     “Cat’s miaow,” you heard the fella say confidently and then smile to his girl.
The grate slid shut with a bang and then there was silence.

     “Hey!” he began to bang on the door until it opened once again, “cat’s miaow! That was the password last week!”

     “Well, it ain’t last week no more, is it? So scram!” the gravelly voice spoke from behind the door.

     He pulled the girl back up the stairs, muttering curses under his breath and brushing into you as you passed each other.

     “But Johnny, you said-“ she whined and his face got red.

     “I know what I said, okay?!”

      The password to get in was ever-changing. This helped keep out any unfavorable people who had somehow managed to get in. But for those special few, such as yourself, you had a card. This could be shown at the door and allow you to gain entrance no matter what. Most of the carriers were gangsters and the affiliates of such. People you wouldn’t want to upset by making them figure out through the grape-vine how to get in.

     You fumbled through your handbag at the door, looking for the card when you heard the clicking of locks. The door creaked open to the sound of a familiar jazz band playing and the thumping of half-full glasses on the bar top.

     “I know who you are, no n-need for that, Miss,” the doorman tipped his hat to you as walked through the smoky interior.

     The ceiling was low and the lights were dim. A few warm bodies bumped against you and you found yourself seated at the L-shaped bar. The counter was slightly wet and you pulled your hands back to avoid it. A sea of brightly colored liquor bottles lined some shelves all the way up to the ceiling. Some of them, you imagined, worth more than you made in the last few months combined.

     “Sorry about that, little lady,” the handsome owner swiped a rag in front of you to clean the mess.

     You swiveled in your stool to watch the band play for a moment. The music from the instruments vibrated in your chest and you smiled watching the crowd of men and women drunkenly dance away in front of the stage.

     “Gunna dance a bit?” he asked you.

     “Not tonight, Zenny,” you sighed and faced his red eyes once more.

     “A drink, then?” he pulled a clean glass from underneath and set it in front of you with a smile.

     “You know I can’t stand that coffin varnish,” you laughed.

     He had known, of course. Instead, he was pouring you some water in the glass. A white bandage was wrapped around his knuckles and he slid it towards you, the ice clinking.

     “Hey! How’s that hand? It looks brand new, already,” you exclaimed.

     Just two days before he had been in a tussle with another man bent on causing a raucous. Zen wiped the floor with him, but his hand had been badly hurt. You’d never even know, watching him work the bar tonight as he was.

     “Ah, it’s nothing,” he rubbed his hand, “bandage is basically for show at this point. I’m all healed, really.”

     Beneath that warm and charming smile was a tough guy. A character who grew up on the streets and made his way in life by understanding respect and hard work. And on top of that, he had a beautiful singing voice. Girl from all over town flocked to watch him at the mic, making their dates jealous as they got moon-eyed over him.

     It was strange, to like someone like Zen. In any other scenario you would have him arrested. But here you were, sitting in this blind pig he ran, laughing with him. Having connections with the very people you set out to investigate was not something you had planned for. Often, you lay awake at night pondering whether or not you could really see this thing through. Could you sit across someone like Zen in that courtroom, your finger pointing towards him as he sat in shackles? All eyes on you, all ears listening to your testimony. You let the water swill in your mouth for a bit before swallowing it along with the thoughts and anxieties that had built up in the moment.

     “They’re in the back room, waiting for you I’m sure,” he mentioned while filling up another man’s glass.

     “Yeah, waiting for me to bring the drinks,” you said with sarcasm.

     “Hey, what do we always say? There could be worse things. For people like us, there could be worse things,” he replied.

     He wasn’t wrong. Just remembering the bullet from the other night had you suddenly delighted to carry a tray of jag juice around for the men.

     “Butt me?” you asked.

     He pulled a cigarette for you and lit it when you placed it between your lips. You gave him a wave before heading off through the crowds and into another room. Although the music carried through, there was no dancing here. Only gambling and heavy drinking. In the center of the room you saw Saeyoung seated in his usual spot at the table, holding a hand full of cards while puffing from a strong cigar with a smirk.

     Yoosung stood along the wall but rushed to greet you as you walked through. You took a seat on a nearby plush chair and blew a puff of smoke.

     “There you are!” Yoosung smiled as he stood above you.

     “Here I am,” you grinned back.

     “They’re in good spirits tonight, I think.”

     They, meaning Mad Hatter and the rest of the gang at the card table. Some of them were Capos for the family, you knew that from all you had researched. Others were local business owners who occasionally did work for the outfit. You could scan the room and put a name to each face. Except one…a younger looking male holding a drink tray was standing in a corner.

     His thick dark hair and quivering nature had you unsettled. While everyone seemed to be enjoying the night, he seemed to do not much but stare at the card table. You took another drag of your cigarette and narrowed your eyes onto him, inquisitively.

     “Who’s that?” you asked Yoosung.

     “I’m not sure. He seems pretty quiet. I think Zen might’a hired him? Pretty shy, but can you blame him?” he shrugged.

     “Lucky! We’re thirsty,” Saeyoung taunted from the table.

     Yoosung jumped up to grab his tray of glasses while the men threw more money onto the table and carried on with their conversations.

     “You take a drink, first,” Saeyoung gestured to a full glass and urged Yoosung to drink.

      “No…I don’t…” Yoosung shrunk into himself at the thought.

     “Come on, be a man and drink with us, Lucky!” he pat Yoosung on the back roughly and caused him to choke on the liquid.

     Everyone was laughing at Yoosung’s face, he was clearly trying not to spit out the harsh alcohol burning his throat and lungs.

     “Get outta here,” Saeyoung laughed, only to trip him as Yoosung tried to walk away from the table.

     A few of the drink glasses spilled on the carpet as he tumbled and the table was roaring. You tossed your cigarette in a nearby abandoned glass, going to help Yoosung clean up the mess, when Saeyoung spoke in a more serious tone.

      “You aren’t laughing,” and as he spoke the space went still and quiet. The only sound being the band from the other room who simultaneously picked up the pace with a new song.

     At first you thought he was looking to you. Your heart went into your throat and you froze, only to see him looking directly behind you at the dark haired boy.

     “Was that not funny enough for you? Are you worried for poor Lucky, here?” he took the cigar from between his teeth and with a smirk pointed it towards Yoosung who had straightened all the glasses and was picking up bits of ice. “Lucky, come here. You’re alright, aren’t you?”

     Yoosung ran to his side with a nod. Saeyoung puffed on his cigar for a moment before clenching it in his teeth once more. He smiled and pretended to dust Yoosung off, straightening his bow tie and vest for him.

     “See? Kid’s alright,” Saeyoung held his palms open as if he was showing Yoosung off to the room.

     The boy said nothing. You stood only a few feet from him now and could see his eyes were unblinking. His hands trembled slightly at his sides as if he was deciding to reach into his pocket or not.

     “You’ve been staring at me all night. If you keep staring without saying anything I’m going to pluck your eyes out of your fucking skull,” he took a swig from his glass and sighed.

     The room was thick with tension now. Everybody was staring at this boy, Yoosung’s mouth hung open. He couldn’t be more than 15. He was small and skinny, his eyes were still that of a child. His lips were moving but his words were a whisper. If you hadn’t been so close you wouldn’t have caught some of his mumbling.

     “Killed him…killed my dad,” the boys voice was hoarse and quivering. He had a crazed look in his eyes.

     His fingers slowly reached for his hip and you took a quick breath when you glimpsed the outline of a gun. Your eyes flashed to Saeyoung who was making a move of his own. Of course, he wasn’t a fool. But you had to do something.
Lifting your skirt you whipped your own gun out and brought it down with a rich thud to the back of the kids skull. He went hurling to the ground on his knees and you kicked him in the side. Not too hard, but hard enough.

     “I think this kid’s bent,” you played it off, “probably been sneaking drinks all night. Come on, you. Time to go home,” you heaved and picked him up by the collar, dragging him towards the back door and into the alley.

     Your heart was racing and you tried to keep your hands from shaking so much after you let him loose. Bending down you got close enough to whisper.

     “You bitch. He killed my pop,” he said angrily through tears.

“Go home. Kiss your mama. You have no idea what you almost got yourself into,” you stood up, “don’t be such a dummy. You have to take care of your family now.”

     You left him out there and walked back inside, glad to hear that the normal chatter has resumed.

     “He wants to see you,” one of Saeyoung’s body guards appeared from your side and nodded his head in a gesture to follow him.

     The room looked like an office. You’d never seen it before, perhaps where they did the book keeping. What you wouldn’t give for a few minutes alone in there to read through some of the documents. You made a mental note of where it was. Perhaps one day, if Zen let you in. Maybe if you said you forgot something…If they had names, any names at all to connect them to other syndicates and families, or to where this booze was coming from…

     The red haired man stood up from a chair and walked until he was arms length in front of you. Very rarely had you been so close to him. Only now could you see just how handsome he really was. How could someone so cruel be so good looking?

     “How do you know that kid?” he asked with a dull face.

     “I don’t,” which was the truth.

     “And I don’t believe you. He’s about to pull a gun on me and you saved him anyway? Don’t lie to me,” he smiled, his gloved fingers traced your jaw line for a moment, “do you know who sent him, maybe? Maybe you did, and gave him a whack when you got cold feet?”

     His hand now had a grip on your jaw, and you realized he had been pushing you back and now had you pressed between him and a wall. The tips of his fingers pressed in further and he tilted his head while looking at you with a curious grin. Your chest was beating so hard you could almost swear everyone in the room could hear it, but you knew it was only your imagination.

     “If you get your paws off me, I could talk to you,” you spit back, not knowing where this fire was coming from.

      The few men in the room made an ‘ooh’ sound and a few chuckled at Saeyoung being had. He moved his face closer to yours, looking deep into your eyes as he released his fingers.

     “She may be cute as a kitten but this one has claws, boys!” he laughed and stepped away.

     They were all smiling as well. It was like being part of a joke you knew nothing about. You straightened your headband and took a quiet deep breath.

      “I’m just fucking with you,” he took his hat off and ran his hand through his red hair as he leaned on the front of the desk with a smile, “I know who that kid is. Oh! I see that look on your face. Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’m not going to do anything to him. He’s just a squirt, right?”

     The men all seemed to relax again and some even lit up a smoke as they sat down in their chairs.

     “There’s something about you. I don’t know what it is, but I like you. You’re observant. And you’ve got a kick to you,” he brought a glass of hooch over and placed it in your hand.

     Even the smell was strong enough to knock you back on your butt. You let it wet your lips but nothing more. Was the underboss…inviting you to drink with him?

     “Anyway, I’ve got your nickname figured out,” he adjusted the flower on your headband with delicate fingers, “I’m going to call you Kitty.”

Imagine Balthazar taking you, a homeless teenager, in.

“This is where you live?” you asked in shock. The room was a lot different than the homeless shelter where you spent most of your life. This was much bigger and the decorations were incredible. Classical paintings littered the cream colored walls accompanied by a large rug on the hardwood floor.

The man who threw you a lifeline nodded. “Correct, but now this just isn’t my home. It’s yours too.”

“I-I can’t believe this…are you sure you want me here? I could always go back to the shelter and-”

“Nonsense, Y/n! I want you here with me, that is if you want to stay. I can promise you that I am not a threat or mean you any harm. I know what it’s like for your parents to abandon you.”

You furrowed your brows and cocked your head to the side. “You were homeless too?”

He shrugged followed by a sharp sigh. “That’s not exactly how it was, although, my dad was absent for my entire life and still is.” Pain surged through you only to strike your broken heart. “I want to give you a second chance in life. Show you what it’s like to have a family who loves you. I want to give you everything I never had.”

“T-This,” you stuttered, “is too much. I-”

“Just take your time. Think it over. And get some rest, okay? I’ll come to check on you in the morning, but don’t be afraid to ask me if you need something.”

With that, he walked off down a hall where the smell of tea came floating down. This was your chance to succeed in life. This was your moment to get off the streets and out of that crowded shelter you called home for too many years. The mysterious dude that just saved your life and didn’t even know it, opened his house to you and took you in like his own. Maybe you should stay…not just for you…but for him. It was obvious he wanted a family to love him just as much as he wanted to provide you with one, so you would give him one. It might be a small family for now, but at least there was one more person that loved him for him. Even though he wasn’t related to him by blood, you would love him like he was.

Angie's Art Class

Super belated birthday fic for @dangandingus !! Please enjoy!

AO3 Mirror

Everyone gradually began to bid their farewells as breakfast concluded. Smiles were exchanged as plastic cutlery clattered against the elongated table, as all the students were satisfied with what they had eaten. The maid stacked the dishes, carrying them to the kitchen with a polite grin as each person left the dining hall.

Tightening her scrunchies, Harukawa let out a sigh, as she pondered what she could do today. There were only a limited number of things to do in her room, but she didn’t particularly fancy spending time with anyone else.

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Totaling 195 individual blocks, Albrecht Durer’s Triumphal Arch (1515) is one of the largest woodcuts ever created. The Holy Roman Emperor, Maximilian I, originally commissioned three woodcuts as part of a series, but only the Triumphal Arch was completed during his lifetime. Johann Stabius, court historian and mathematician, designed the program of images, which is explained in text below, while Durer executed the design. Large woodcuts such as these were hand colored and served as wall hangings or decoration. Scenes from Maximilian’s life including his marriage to Mary of Burgundy and military achievements dominate the program  For Maximilian, the Arch is a grand testament to his authority as an imperial ruler and German king. Roman emperors raised arches to celebrate military victories; busts of the great leaders of antiquity such as Alexander the Great and Julius Cesar can be found on the left panel. The family tree in the central panel is a blend of myth and reality, dating back to Clovis I, first king of the Franks and founder of the Merovingian dynasty, and includes mythical representations of early Germanic kingdoms. 


Created By ShinoKCR

French Quarter Dining

Created for: The Sims 4
Part of the French Quarter Series: The Dining
- Diningtable
- Diningchair (several Colors for the Polster)
- Bar
- Barstool (several Colors for the Polster)
- Armchair (Several Colors for the Polster)
- Cupboard (3 Colors for fabric inside) in Sidetables
- Shelf (in Displays)
- Sidetable
- Chandeliers (2 Colors) small and large for all 3 Walls
- Wallsconce (2 Colors on Metal)
- Rug (4 Colors)
- Painting (4 different Paintings)
- 2 Glass Vases with Slot for to place the Peonies
- Glass
- Tureen
- 2 Bowls (1 with Slot)

Creator Notes
pls make sure your Game is fully patched otherwise objects may not show up in your Game

Caught in a Lie pt. 2

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four | Part five | Part six | Part seven |

Group: BTS

Genre: fluff/smut(later)

Pairing: JiminxReader

Word count: 1,155

Plot: Park Jimin is a rich man and you just happen to be his maid. But a maid isn’t what he’s really looking for. (Based off of Lie)

Originally posted by ounew

Slowly but surely, the day agonizingly crawled by and suddenly it was 10 o'clock. The time that Mr. Park told you to meet him in his office. Since it was towards the end of your shift, you were a little bit tired and sweaty. But you didn’t want to know the consequences for letting down Mr. Park. You walked carefully down one of the corridors all the way to Jimin’s office, hearing your light footsteps echo in the empty halls. Your heart was pumping blood at an alarming rate, and it skipped a beat when you reached the door. Slowly your arm extended out towards the door and you lightly knocked on it. 

“Come in,” Mr. Park said from behind the door. 

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Based on this photoset

It was Molly’s second time inside the tattoo shop. The first time, she’d looked around at the tall, glaring, heavily pierced bottle-blonde woman at the counter and the picture of a very large, very naked stylized vagina in full color hanging on the wall with the other sample tattoos, and she’d walked right back out.

Sally had told her it was the best in the area, though it certainly wasn’t the cheapest, and if she was going to do this, she wanted to do it right, so she braced herself and came back. The vagina was still there, but the woman at the counter had been replaced by a sharp-featured woman with dark hair. She was wearing a red silk sleeveless top that displayed her slender arms and the delicate black tattoos they wore.

“What would you like?” asked the woman. At first glance, she was certainly less intimidating than the large woman, but there was something about the bright red of her lipstick that warned of danger. Molly squared her shoulders and stepped forwards.

“Could I make an appointment for a tattoo, please?” she asked.

“I could do you now, if you’d like,” the woman said, without even glancing at the computer for confirmation.

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Like father, like son [Peter Maximoff]

Prompt: Heey! Can I get a shot with Peter maximoff where he wants to tell his father Erik that he is his son, but doesn’t know how and the reader tries to help him :)

Pairing: Peter x Reader

Warnings: None

“Hey Y/N?“

You had offered along with the rest of the students at Xavier to help with the damage. Created by Apocalypse. Working alongside Erik, who had a similar power like you and who was known as Magneto to most. Including your boyfriend, his son- Peter.

You looked up towards the metal controlling man, only to end up with a pound of dirt covering your entire body. His boisterous laugh ran through your ears.

“Very funny.” You said unhappily. Body on the dirt covering floor, sliding any mud you could off you. Erik standing watching amused as he tried not to laugh too hard. It made your eyes roll.

“I swear your just like P-” you stopped yourself from continuing that sentence. Eyes went to him and the mutant didn’t even recognize your slip-up.

“Someone I know.” You corrected. His hand extended for you took take. You grabbed onto it.

“Are they as charming as me?” Erik floundered. His smirk, you could’ve sworn it was Peters. Like father, like son after all.

“Quite.” You snarled, now risen on your feet. He chuckled, and continued to get working. You stopped and secretly stared. There was talks going around that the Magneto himself was leaving the school. You hoped they were just mindless talks but a part of you knew otherwise.

Part of you wondered how Peter felt. His son and he didn’t even know it. Taking it by the horns, you took a few steps closer to him.

“So is it true? You, leaving?”

His face fell. He stopped, turned to look at you. He nodded. “It’s something I have to do. Alone. I don’t think you would be able to understand.”

Contrary to his belief, you could understand. You heard of him loosing his wife and daughter. He thought he had no one left but he had Peter. You on the other hand were an orphan. Mother,father, brothers, sisters- all dead. And just like him, you had Peter. “You, have no idea how wrong you are about that.” You said in a soft tone. His blues looked away from the ground and into your green earth eyes.

“You may have family close. Closer than you think.” From the corner of your eye, you saw Peter. Secluded by a nature filled area where he had a pen and book resting on his lap. Biting his lip and raising a finger when an idea came to mind.

You started to walk your way to him. Stopping for a second. “Erik?”

You heard him hum. You back still to him. With a raise of you hand and crushing it to a fist. You smirked when you heard a yelp and him fall to the ground.

“Okay! We’re even!”

“I swear your dad could be your freakin twin!” You grumbled out, but stopped. Words frozen as well as you feet when you heard Peter himself.

“H-hey dad.”


“Hey wanna a son cause I’m yours.”


“Hey Erik, that’s a cool name. Want to know another name that’s cool. Mine, Peter. Your son.”

“No, no.”

“Yeah I agree those are all terrible.” You playful teased, showing yourself. Peter looks up from his book and his cheeks tint pick at the sight of you. “H-hey I was ju-”

“You were just practising telling your father you’re his son in the most awful of ways.”

Peter’s cheeks tinted a light pink, nodding. Your smirk widened. Taking a seat next to him you saw the tiny notebook filled with writing and crossed out words and sentences.

It made your heart melt because, he was trying. Peter was always so confidence and at times cocky but this was something important to him. He didn’t want to mess it up and most certainly, didn’t want to miss his opportunity again.

“It’s true. The rumors, about him.” You spoke up. You wrapped your arms around him as soon as his face dropped. Even if he was the fastest person in the world, he could never be fast enough to catch up with his father.

“If it helps, I’ll be there. With you when you tell him. I mean if you want.” You offered. He have you a small, his hand rested on top of yours. He pulled you closer.

“And I most certainly will help you say something less sad than this!” You exclaimed, notebook in hand as you waved it up.

Peter chuckled. His warm sounding laugh rumbled against his chest, you could feel in as your back was pressed against him. His lips kissed up your neck to your cheek.

No words spoken as he turned you head and met your lips.

“Why does it matter to you if I leave or not. I barely know you kid.”

“Who says I care?”

You stopped in your tracks. Hidden by the large grey colored wall that held part of the school. A side of you shown by the sun’s light as you caught sight of Erik and Peter out front arguing.

Everyone had pretty much stayed clear of them. Watching from windows, doors, any nook and cranny but never dared to interrupt.

Not even the professor himself.

It was him who told you. He hoped you’d be able to help since had a great relationship with both men.

By the two sentences you caught, you quickly figured out what the fighting was about. Erik leaving. Once you told Peter, he dropped the subject but you know, he hadn’t really.

Wasn’t Peter’s style.

And all that pent up emotion the speedster had towards the situation, towards his father- blew up all together.

Without acknowledge, you began walking in closer towards the silver colored cladded and blue suit cladded men.

It was then that you looked at them. Like a full examination of both.

Like father, like son.

Peter shared his facial structure, eye color, hell even posture and personality. It was then and there that you finally had grown to realize. Magneto was the father of the quicksilver himself. Your boyfriend!

You steps were soft. You weren’t even sure if Peter felt you stand behind him or if Erik even saw you, but you noticed them. “I don’t understand why my leaving will even effect you. Why are you asking such a big deal out of it Peter?” Erik popped the big question.

A beautiful gasp was ducked in from Peter. His hands twitched as his face twisted into nervousness. It was now or never.

“Because I’m-” you heard him stop. He wiggled in his shoes. “I’m-”

He stopped again. Peter just couldn’t bring himself the words. Fear paralyzed his body, his mind.

“Sorry Peter. You might hate me forever.” You whispered under your breath. You closed your eyes and bit your lip, breathing softly before you yelled out the answer Erik was looking for.

“Because he’s your son!”

Silence. Compete and utter. Not one sound was heard, it was as if time had remained still. Erik looked at Peter, Peter looked at his father. And you, you released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in.

The soft sounds of a wheelchair entering brought you all back. Charles wheeled in.

No one spoke. Not one syllable as you all had a four way staring contest.

Ellsworth Kelly, Colors for a Large Wall, 1951.

Walk My Dreams

Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Steve

Warning(s): Suggestive Language, Implied Torture, and Mild Sexual Reference.

Word Count: 5.6k+

A/N: This is another fic that just came to me, so apparently you guys are going to suffer at my hand if I stray from requests and my series’s. Enjoy! x. T

               You were sitting against the headboard of your bed, legs drawn up with a book splayed open on your thighs. The lamp on the nightstand supplied enough light to illuminate the grey duvet you had your feet tucked under and most of the ample space in your bedroom, but darkness remained shrouded at the corners of where the walls met. Smoke-colored curtains were drawn over the large bay window to your left, the quilt Wanda had stitched for you was draped over the black leather chair pushed under your desk, and both your closet and bathroom doors were shut.

               You embraced the peace that came with the hours past midnight. 

               Not a single sound could disturb you, but the ones you created. Nothing was asked of you, nor expected of. No one could tell you to finish the paperwork sitting on your desk, because they were all asleep or in their own rooms. You had time to think and not worry about the tasks that would be burdened on you when the sun rose.

               So, that’s why you claimed this time of day as your favorite. 

               You turned the page of your book and paused for a moment, turning your head to check the digital alarm clock. It showed ‘2:47′. You pondered on just going to bed, until distant screaming and shouting pierced the silence.


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