wow, okay, thank you guys so much for the interest in my au! im still taking my time answering asks, but i thought i would address a few at once with this small section of a character lineup to clarify some of the roles and relationships yall were curious about in my inbox! (here’s another section)

i really want to answer yall soon too about where ill be posting the actual contents of this online and whether or not itll ever materialize as a print doujinshi!!! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

for now, the working title of this is  the world belongs to you  and it will continue to be tagged here

anonymous asked:

jimin and 21 please and thankyou !!! <333

#21. best friend’s sibling au
1.2k words ; smut/pwp

Originally posted by jimins-bootae

a/n: this is porn and nothing more idk why i did this to myself sobs

Sneaking around your best friend’s back was a bad idea. Sneaking around your best friend’s back with her brother was an even worse idea. You should’ve known since the second you laid your eyes on Park Jimin that you were long gone. His hair had been the color of coffee beans when you first met him. He was like caffeine in a way: dangerous, addicting. He kept you up at night with the sweet temptation of the crescent of his eyes, the seductive curl of his lips.

And, Lord, it had been an even bigger mistake for you to stare at him for a second too long. Because he noticed. And when Park Jimin noticed, you were never going to escape his grasp. He’d have you wrapped around his fingers before you even realized.

“Jiminnie,” you whimpered as his mouth trailed down the expanse of your neck. You were tucked in between his legs on the couch in the living room. His arms had wound around your waist, keeping you in place, as his lips deliciously explored your skin. The television was playing a rerun of some ridiculous horror movie, but you couldn’t be fucked at that moment with the tingles that electrified down your spine as one of his hands stayed on your stomach while the other snaked down between your thighs.

“Baby,” he whispered. “Keep your voice down. You don’t want Jihae hearing us, do you?” He was making it incredibly difficult to keep that promise when his fingers began to rub circles over your clothed heat. The thin fabric of your pajama shorts did nothing to ease the torture. You bit down on your bottom lip, your vision clouded over with lust from his continuous ministrations. It took everything inside of you to stop your whimpers from escaping.

Keep reading

Any dancers willing to work with me?

I’m hoping to put on a light show at the next Club Crescent @crescent-ffxiv dance party! (Saturday Oct. 1, Goblet 4, 42). 

I would love to have 2-4 (or more!) party up with me during the event so that my ability spam can light up multiple points on the dance floor! 

Ability assistants appreciated too! :3 (Especially if I’m having to pull double duty as bartender.)

Only actual requirement is to dance the night away! Lemme know if you’re interested!

We all have to make due with what we have and despite having terrible Northern winters I also have a love for sweaters, so it kind of works itself out in a way.  See some of the ways I stay warm and spooky in my Sweater Weather blog post!


     Ithica Calendar Clock, c. 1866.

    The case is probably walnut or butternut. The top is heavily molded with broken pediment, 3 turned finals and applied pieces.The panel has incised decorations and two round cut -outs to reveal clock and calendar dials. The bottom of the case has similar molding and two finials pointed down.

    The upper dial is painted sheet metal with Roman numerals and a variation on “pierced diamond” hands. The lower dial is painted sheet metal. Calendar with changeable rollers for days and months. Calendar hand pointed at one end and crescent shaped on other. Arabic numerals painted around dial.

    It was sold at F.H Hopkins & Co., a jeweler here in Chillicothe, Ohio.

@xenomorph11 killing it looking awesome with her new Hoops! One of the last pairs floating around. These are now discontinued but the Small version is still available. They are for sizes 6ga+(4mm+), 4 ga+(5 mm+), 2ga+(6mm+).

Check out the full sizing details and colors here:

Want to buy our glass?
Try our worldwide store locator: or write us a quick message here on facebook and we’ll help you get it. For wholesale registration simply email us to with your studio’s info.

Made with Instagram

The finished Crescent Moon Rising pendant carved in English Oak. I finished too late to get a decent daylight shot so this will have to do for now. Sorry for all the work in progress posts on this one!

Made with Instagram
Keith Week Day 1, September 26th: Galaxy Garrison/Anger

He’d learned a while ago how to keep it in, how to force it into a cage and close the door. Sometimes someone would say something, and he’d clench his fists and feel his nails dig small crescents into the palms of his hands. A teacher. A superior. A stranger. He’d absorb what they’d said and punch it out on some training dummy.

On the rare occasions, there was too much to force back. When Shiro had been presumed dead and the cause of death said to be pilot error, it erupted. One of the only people he’d ever felt like he could trust himself to admire didn’t just die. Didn’t just disappear. It didn’t happen. And that anger got him kicked out of the Garrison. He wouldn’t have said that the Garrison was all that great. Most of the officers talked shit and it wasn’t all that glorious or stable. But at the Garrison, he’d kept in the anger that always seemed to ruin him, and had had ambitions that he’d never dreamed of on his own. He’d been able to set himself to a higher standard, to do probably the one thing he was good at: fight.

He’d sat in that cabin for days, running everything over and over in his head. How his fucking inability to keep his cool took over his life. How he didn’t have a purpose anymore. How he’d be alone, again, the silence feeling like a nail driving into his skull.

In an attempt to find something, anything, to get him back to life, he went on a walk around the canyon. The desert wind harshly pulled at his hair and blew dirt into his eyes. When he felt that surge of energy, he knew that there was direction for him again. He threw himself into that spike of energy, the way he threw himself into just about everything. He drew the lines of the drawings of the blue lion into his head, trying to replace the sound of Shiro’s laugh, a picture of a woman, growing fuzzier by the day.

Everything went so fast once Keith was hefting Shiro’s arm over his shoulders. Lance, the blue lion, the castle, Allura and Coran, Voltron. More had happened in a few hours than had happened in the months since he’d been kicked from the Garrison. Suddenly, he had a purpose, and he was more than willing to accept it.

At first, Lance’s quips were hard-hitting and tinged with his version of poisonous jealousy. There were a few times when Keith had wanted to acquaint Lance’s face with his fist, but he chewed at the inside of his cheek and moved on. He threw himself into his new position as one of five, spending most of his waking moments training.

As time moved, they all slowly learned how to live with each other. Lance’s words grew softer and Keith figured that they were more a projection than anything. He knew when to leave Pidge alone and when they needed someone else more than anything. He had found a friend in Hunk. He’d learned that Shiro wasn’t perfect, and that, sometimes, he needed to feel like the others had his back. Keith had grown to admire Allura. He’d started to admire Coran, for his ability to keep himself up, to keep everyone going.

Maybe, just maybe, he’d found a family that would stay.

Whenever Lance got that look on his face that he only got when he thought of home, Keith’s vision started to tint red. When Shiro’s voice wavered with self- consciousness, Keith had to focus his energy on keeping his face from contorting with anger. When Pidge took a glance at the photo of their brother, his heart started to pound. If Hunk’s wavered in fear over the radio frequency, Keith felt his hands clench at his Lion’s controls.

There was always something to focus on, someone to put on a disillusioned pedestal. But, most of all, there was always something to be angry about.