dummy face


will they? might they?

anonymous asked:

This family only sees similarity with Louis, they've never mentioned a similarity with Banana or Tammi. No.. just Louis. He has nothing from his mum, not even something tiny. The grandmother or the cousin can't see anything in this baby that remind them of the mum, they see only Louis in him. I wonder why...... and he doesnt even comment or like the baby pics...

I was just thinking of that! Wow mind twins haha yep. Literally never saw someone saying he has B’s eyes? Or her hair? Or literally anything from her? Hmm…. 

Standard Procedure 2/3

For Trek Fest 2017

Characters and Pairings: Leonard McCoy x Reader

Prompt: Is there a chance to get a new McCoy x reader story? <3 A soft story, where McCoy realizes, that he is in love with the reader. ;) (from @nergirlbluecrane, Thanks!!)

Summary: McCoy thought he was married to the job. But when he meets you, he can’t seem get you out of his head. And oddly enough, you can’t seem to stop thinking about him either.

Word count: 2616 (oh lordy)

Triggers: description of a wound/accident

A/N: As I said before, I have no idea how medical things happen. All surgical stuff is the product of mad googling and a long journey through Memory Alpha (like the bone laser), but it’s not too detailed because I am wuss and cannot handle graphic stuff.

I’m going to add on a short (LOL) third part that will finally fully address the prompt. Jesus take the wheel.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Keep reading

Love and Duty

For Jonerys Week Day 7: Free Choice

Feat. the Baby Targs-Rhaenyra is 20, Daeron is 18, Elaena is 14, and Visenya is 10

Ever since she had been old enough to hold a brush, Visenya had loved to paint. She thought of everything in terms of color-the burnished reds and yellows and oranges of a fiery sunset, the bright white line of a shooting star cutting through the night sky, the violet of her mother’s eyes, the blacks and browns of her wolf’s fur in the muted candlelight.

She thought of people in colors too. Some people were a soft green, others a warm yellow. Still others were a hard red, and a select few people that she didn’t like very much were ebony black.

She thought in colors when she thought of her family.

Her father was dark, like the night sky. Not pitch black, but filled with the reflection of starlight. He was the stars, propelling her through long nights and assuaging all her worst fears. He was stern when he had to be but never without cause. And he rarely ever raised his voice. But he was constant; her guiding star when everything else in her world was falling apart.

Her mother was a golden orange, like the side of a burning flame. Their family words were fire and blood and she was fire incarnate. Everyone knew when she entered a room-her very presence seemed to cause ripples in the air and when she spoke people listened. She was kind and tender around her family though-she would read Visenya stories for hours and hours when she was sick in bed, even when her voice gave out and she could talk in little more than a croak. She blazed brightly, more than any of them could ever hope to. She set the standard that they could never hope to reach-but they tried their hardest anyway.

Rhaenyra was ivory, or maybe hard marble. Quiet, contemplative, thoughtful-but unmoving when it came to her values. She was quiet most of the time and whenever she was angry or scared or stressed she internalized it, unable to show anyone the cracks in her exterior.

Daeron was a sea foam green, like Rhaegal’s scales when the sun hit them in just the right way. He was daring and adventurous; he didn’t like war, but he loved to make complicated plans. Once he decided to build a blanket fort and use all of the pillows in the entire castle. Another time he’d woken her up just after sunrise so they could go hunting for shells along the edge of the shore. And he had a tongue of silver; he could charm almost anyone and she saw how girls blushed when he smiled at him.

Elaena was blue like the depths of the sea, alternately clear and pale or stormy and rough depending on her moods. Visenya hadn’t been alive yet when she was born but she’d heard the story every year on Elaena’s birthday-how it had been the worst storm since the one that their mother had been born in so many years before. She’d been born on Dragonstone after a long and difficult birth (sometimes when her tutors got upset with her they would say that had been only a taste of what would come next). Visenya was fascinated by her, especially her brash courage. She wasn’t afraid of anything-she would kiss her ladies in waiting in full view of a public audience, she’d go wander the city at night, and she talked about building an empire across the sea.

Visenya was a soft yellow, like the first rays of sunlight on a cold morning. She didn’t draw herself very often; she never really had the occasion to when there was so much else going on. But every so often she would retreat to her room and settle in the far back corner behind her bed and draw for hours, drawing her face from memory. After years of staring in the mirror, she knew how her cheeks looked too hollow and there was a scar on her collarbone that would never go away and she always looked slightly ill even if she wasn’t.

Once one of the Tyrell boys had told her that she was ugly and her parents would have to arrange a marriage for her. Elaena had screamed at him and threatened to make Rhaenyra run him through with her sword if he didn’t apologize.

“Fine,” he’d said, grinning at her with a look that Visenya didn’t like. “She’s an executioner anyway, isn’t she?”

He had left in disgrace with blood gushing from his nose. Elaena broke one of the bones in her fingers but she never said what had happened. And if her parents suspected, they didn’t let on. But Visenya couldn’t stop thinking about it-maybe she was too sickly to be beautiful. She was always stick thin from vomiting, even though she ate as much as her siblings did. They were all healthy and practically glowed in direct light but on good days she could still count every one of her ribs and she could never run as fast or play as hard as they did.

But there’d never been a fight like this one before, and Visenya worried that it would tear her family apart.

It had all started when Rhaenyra and Daeron announced that they were getting married.

A marriage between them wasn’t something that had ever been discussed. As soon as she bled for the first time her parents had sat down with Rhaenyra and given her a list of potential suitors from various noble families. She wasn’t being forced into an arranged marriage and she could marry whoever she wanted to, but eventually she would have to get married. And she was meticulous about her suitors; over the last four years they’d had hundreds of men from noble families come to the Red Keep to seek her favor. Some of them stayed for only a day, others for a couple of weeks-a couple had stayed for almost three months-but none of them were permanent.

Finally her mother gave her an ultimatum: she had until her twentieth birthday to make a decision. People talked; they wondered why the crown princess hadn’t selected a husband yet.

So at her twentieth birthday dinner, as the six of them ate the white flowered cake the cooks had prepared, Rhaenyra said that she’d come to a decision. Visenya perked up, hoping that would be that. Hopefully that would the end of the strange tension that had come up between them, between parents and children and siblings and siblings. She was too young to understand much of what was going on, only ten years old-but she suspected that no one else knew what to do either. Rhaenyra never fought with anyone, especially not her parents.

“I’m marrying Daeron.”

Father had choked on his water and Mother just looked confused. “What?”

“I’m going to marry Daeron,” she said again. She wouldn’t look at any of them; she toyed with the spoon in her hands, though she didn’t eat any cake. “It’s not like it’s uncommon in our family.” Their grandparents had been brother and sister…but Visenya had always been taught that was why their uncle Viserys had gone mad.

Jon turned to Daeron, who was uncharacteristically quiet. “Daeron.”

“Yes,” her brother said abruptly. “We’re going to be married.”

“Where did this come from? When did you decide this?”

“A couple of weeks ago.”

“But you don’t love each other,” Visenya heard herself say. She knew what love was like, knew it every time her parents kissed or fell asleep in each other’s arms. They looked at each other in a way they looked at no one else, not even her and her siblings. No matter what happened she was sure of that, sure that they loved each other. Rhaenyra and Daeron weren’t like that. They didn’t look at each other like that. They loved each other and sometimes they would rely on each other in social situations-Rhaea was quiet and thoughtful while Daeron was boisterous and charming-but only as siblings. It was hard for her to even think of them as anything else, as having babies together.

“I don’t care,” Rhaenyra replied. “It preserves the bloodline.”

“Your children will have Targaryen names no matter who you marry-” Her father tried to cut in but Rhaea shook her head.

“You accept that but there are others who don’t. What if someday our children-or grandchildren-try to contest each other? They could start another war. This way, our family remains strong. There’s no question. We stand united. What better message could we send?”

“Marriage alliances are important-”

“So is keeping a Targaryen on the throne.”

“What is this about?” Mother sat forward, twisting her fingers together the way she did when she was upset. “Did someone say something? There are other men you haven’t met, hundreds of them-”

Rhaea kept shaking her head. “I don’t want to meet anyone else. I don’t want to fall in love. Neither does Daeron. And this is the best way to keep that from happening.”

The words hung in the air like stones that, once thrown, couldn’t be retrieved. Love was the foundation that their lives were built on-the idea that true love existed, that you could wait your entire life but you would still find someone who understood you in a way no one else could. “But…why wouldn’t you want to fall in love?”

“We’re a team,” Daeron spoke up, though his voice lacked most of its usual oozing charisma. “We know how to work well with each other. We complement each other’s strengths. Some people call us the King and Queen born again. That doesn’t happen without a reason.”

“A marriage isn’t something to take lightly-”

“We haven’t taken it lightly. We’ve thought about it, and we’ve decided that it’s best. For us and for our children.” He scooted his chair closer to Rhaenyra’s and held her hand-and she raised a hand, almost imperceptibly, to rest on her stomach.

There was silence for a long moment and then Elaena, who had been uncharacteristically quiet during the entire exchange, nearly dropped her fork. “You’re pregnant.”

“Yes,” Rhaenyra replied.

“How long have you known?”

“A few weeks. Not long.”

“…So you didn’t tell us-”

“We wanted to be sure, so you wouldn’t forbid it.” She’d only ever seen that steely look in Rhaea’s eyes when she was facing a dummy in the training room and she was glad now that it wasn’t turned on her. “We thought you might.”

“It’s the best thing,” Daeron said again. “It’s best for our family. You’ve always taught us that family is the most important thing.”

She could practically see the crack lines appearing. She had to look down at the table and clench her fists so she wouldn’t cry. “But Daeron…you always wanted to be castellan of Dragonstone. What about…”

He was looking at her so coldly that she trailed off. “Sometimes we don’t do things because they’re easy. We do them because it’s our duty. We’re different, Visenya. We have the blood of kings in our veins, every one of us. We can’t be happy.”

She got up quickly, pushing her chair to the side and running out of the room so quickly she almost slipped and fell. She heard Mother’s intake of breath, an almost rehearsed exclamation of fear that she never had to show around anyone else. And suddenly, it all made her furious and sad and scared. She was ten years old and she should have been too old for such things but she ran upstairs and collapsed onto her bed, sobbing until she cried herself to sleep.

Sometimes when she was sad Mother would come and sit with her, singing her songs in High Valyrian until her tears subsided. But she stayed alone tonight and she was glad of it. She didn’t want to see any of them.

At one point in the night she woke up to hear hushed voices outside her bedroom door-her mother’s and Rhaenyra’s. Even though she knew she shouldn’t she scooted to the door and pressed her ear against the cool wood, straining to hear the whisper of voices.

“You don’t understand what you’re giving up-for you and for your brother,” Daenerys was saying.

Rhaenyra was still talking in that low furious voice.  “You don’t understand what people are saying. I’m just trying to prevent a war.”

“The day you were born we declared you heir to the throne. Nothing changes that.”

“But people still think that Daeron has a better claim. And you’re here to hold them in check because they’re afraid to cross you but what happens when you’re gone? They’ll try to tear us apart.”

“We have to stop the family inbreeding, Rhaenyra.”

“We’ll be careful-”

“You can be as careful as you want and it won’t change anything. You’ve read your history. You know what happened-how they started being born with scales and talons and withered away and died…please think of what you’ll be doing to them. To yourself.” She sighed. “You’re old enough to remember when Visenya was born. You know how hard it was, on all of us. You almost lost a sister that day…but you almost lost a mother that day too. And I’m not going anywhere. But Visenya…”

“Visenya’s fine.” But Rhaea’s voice was shaking now.

“Visenya won’t live as long as you or I will. If we continue to inbreed this family will dwindle and there will be nothing left of us-with or without the others.”

“It’s too late now. One or two more generations-once there are more of us to keep the lineage going we can stop. But for now…it’s a matter of survival.”

She sighed. “If this is what you both want to do…Rhaenyra, you and Daeron are both of age now. I won’t tell you what to do, or how to live your life. But I beg you to be careful. Don’t make choices that you’ll regret later. And don’t mistake duty for fear.”                 

Visenya heard footsteps moving down the hallway as she vaulted back into bed and yanked the covers over her head. There was quiet for a moment and then the door eased open. “Visenya?”

She thought about lying, but decided her mother would probably see through it anyway. “Yes?”

Mother pulled up a chair next to her bedside, the chair they always used when she was sick and could barely walk. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Are you mad at them?”

“No…but I am scared for them. They’re still so young…they’re too young to understand what they’re doing, what they’ll bring upon this family.”

“I don’t want them to get married.”

“Neither do I. But they’re old enough to make their own choices now. We can’t tell them what to do. They may be compatible-but they’re not in love. They’ll turn their backs on a world of possibilities. Love is a terrible thing, Visenya-but it’s also wonderful. And to deny it…” She sighed, shaking her head. “I don’t expect you to understand-”

“You can tell me. I’m old enough.”

“Falling in love with your father was one of the most dangerous things I could have done. But I did it anyway-even though Lord Tyrion told me not to, even though I was telling myself not to. And I’ve never regretted that decision. Not a single time.”

“Not even when I was born?”      

Her mother was silent for a long moment. “What do you mean?”

“I heard you talking to Rhaea. You said that when I was born you almost died.”

“Visenya…no, I’ve never regretted that. Because you more than make up for that pain each and every day. I would go through it again and again for you.” She kissed her on the forehead, messing up her hair the way that always made her laugh. Or it would have, if Visenya had felt like laughing. “Please don’t worry, sweetheart. This has nothing to do with you. Now get some sleep. It’s late and everyone’s tired. Things will be better in the morning.”

But Visenya knew they wouldn’t be. All night long the words rolled over and over in her head. Visenya won’t live as long as your or I will. She barely slept at all, afraid that she would never wake up.

She painted all day the next day. At first she didn’t know what she was drawing-it wasn’t until the swirls of color, the bright reds and burnished browns, combined to form a familiar shape that she realized she was drawing her dragon Alaerion.

Daeron stopped in later that night and looked her drawing over appreciatively. “That’s pretty, Visenya. You’re a lovely artist.”

“Thank you,” she said stiffly. Silly him, thinking that plying her with compliments would keep her from remembering what had happened the night before.

He sighed. “I’m sorry you had to see that last night.”

“I just don’t understand.”

“I don’t expect you to-”

“Explain it to me then. I’m not so much younger than you are.”

“You’re right, you’re not.” He seemed to visibly deflate and she suddenly felt angry at him, angry for tearing them all apart like this. “Rhaenyra came to see me a couple of months ago. It was after a visit from one of the dignitaries…it didn’t go well, as I’m sure you can guess. She was crying. She said that she didn’t want to get married, that the prospect of marriage frightened her and she didn’t want anything to do with it. And she said she’d been thinking about it and…she said we should get married.”

“What did you think?”

“I wasn’t sure what to think. I love Rhaea and I would do anything for her, but…to make a vow to each other in the eyes of gods and men, to a person you don’t love, is a very serious infraction. But we did it to secure the line of succession, so there could never be another Dance again. You’ve learned about the Dance of the Dragons?” Visenya nodded-Rhaenyra and Aegon and the Blacks and the Greens and lots of people she didn’t remember. But a lot of dragons had died. She knew that. The angry townspeople had stormed the dragonpit. Sometimes she dreamed she was there, when she had nightmares-she was trapped inside, choking amid the smoke and flames as the dragons screamed and died. “We worried that, if Rhaea had children, someone would try to contest their claim to the throne…would try to assert that she wasn’t a full blooded Targaryen and therefore try to put a child of mine, as the first male child, on the throne instead.”

It was making Visenya’s head spin. “But Mother and Father said Rhaenyra would be queen-”

“You know from history how little words are worth, Vissy.” He was using her pet name for her, from when she was just a baby, and she wasn’t sure how to feel. No one called her Vissy anymore. “It’s our actions that speak loudest. This generation…everyone will be watching us carefully. We can’t make a false move. We have to be strong, for our family. For everything our parents fought and suffered.” She thought about the nightmares, the scars that her parents never talked about.

One of her first memories was sitting on her mother’s bed, watching her get dressed-watching her handmaidens braid her hair and button her into a gown of finest violet silk. There was a scar across her mother’s abdomen, still pulsing red, even though she could tell it was an old wound. She had cried when she saw it…and she remembered most of all the look of sadness in her mother’s eyes when she pulled away to apply more makeup. “But you always wanted to stay on Dragonstone and take care of the dragons-”

“It’s only a short flight away. It’s our duty, Visenya.”

“Then what’s my duty? Am I going to have to marry someone?”

He smiled and shook his head sadly. “No. We’re getting married so you never have to. Go marry someone you love. Grow the family outwards-not just straight down.”

“But you don’t want to fall in love?”

He shrugged. “It’s too late now. We did it so fast…but Mother and Father don’t understand that we were only doing it for you.”

She was silent for a moment, trying to gather the courage to ask the question. “Mother said something yesterday. I wasn’t sure what it meant.” Daeron was silent, waiting. “She said that I won’t live as long as the rest of you.”


“Is it true?” She practically screamed it, so loudly that her wolf Violet looked over curiously to make sure there was no serious trouble.

He sighed. “When you were born, the maesters said you wouldn’t live until your first birthday. You were too small, they said, and too weak. But you proved them wrong. Then they said you wouldn’t survive until your third birthday. Your fifth. Your eighth. Your tenth. You proved them wrong every single time, Visenya.”

“And what do the maesters say now?”

“They’ve stopped trying to predict it, because they know that you’re too stubborn for death.”

“But it’s because Mother and Father are related.”

“There’s no proof…but that’s what everyone thinks, yes.”

She shook her head. “But you’re going to keep the trend going.”

“Visenya, I don’t have another choice.”

She stood and left. “You always have another choice. You’re just scared to make it.” What if your baby isn’t as strong as I am? What if she doesn’t live until her first birthday? How will you feel then?

Something broke that day. Later she was never sure what it was or how it had happened, but things were always different between her and Daeron. There was a distance that hadn’t been there before. Even though they still visited whenever they could, even though he always sent her flowers on her birthday…he was Rhaenyra’s from then on. The lines had been drawn-Rhaenyra and Daeron on one side, everyone else on the other.

She didn’t draw pictures of them anymore. Somehow it didn’t feel right. Things were different. They were different. She’d never realized before just how much she was glad she wasn’t the oldest, so she didn’t have to make those hard choices. She could trail her mother and father when they went about their work or she could lie in the back gardens, sleeping in the sunlight. She didn’t have to be brave.

But she knew sometime she would have to make hard decisions too. It was only a matter of time. And she could only pray that she would be ready for them when they came.

Because I would probably not have kept this plot line had I thought up the baby Targs in May but since they were already drawn out I figured I’d stick with it. 

Visenya is just precious. I love all of the Baby Targs for different reasons obviously, but she’s so sweet-especially little!Visenya. 

And now all of my entries for Jonerys week are concluded. I wrote something for every day of it. Hmm I’ll have to do something to celebrate…Please feel free to continue sending in prompts and headcanons as I’ll be getting back to those :) 

kindervenom  asked:

Mantis shrimp - Cassarric

mantis shrimp: what could not be unseen

It begins with an offhand comment.

“She’s quite beautiful, isn’t she? Seeker Cassandra.”

At first he doesn’t think much about it. It’s not a secret that she has admirers, a small flock of shy recruits and even a handful of wizened soldiers watching her unleash hell on the courtyard practice dummies, young and weathered faces alight with a mixture of awe and fear of the Maker. He’s teased her about it on a number of occasions, if only to get a rise out of her – that incredulous splutter, and that shock-red flush of her sharp-boned cheeks, neither reaction due to the fact that he’d dare suggest her desirable, but rather that it should be true, which, given her smitten audience, isn’t really that hard to believe. Although, honestly? Varric hadn’t given it much thought.

‘Hadn’t’ of course being the problem here.

And the comment that does it is such an innocuous thing – caught in passing one day, it’s picked up by ears used to stealing slivers of gossip from crowded taverns, and it’s nothing that he hasn’t heard before. Hell, compared to the shit sifted through the Skyhold rumour mill, lewd bets and speculations regarding everything from girth to stamina (things no one needs to know, really), a comment on Cassandra’s looks is downright chaste.

But chaste be damned, the comment sticks, and with even more persistence than that one remark he’d caught praising Tiny’s…not-so-tiny attributes. But shit, what he wouldn’t give now to have that thought at the forefront of his mind, and not this – whatever the hell this is, this sudden and weird fascination with the Seeker, who he’s never offered so much as a second glance. Although to be fair, Varric suspects his former dismissal might have had something to do with his first impression of her being somewhat stained by the fact that she’d threatened to have him strung up by his ankles (and not in the fun way). And he’d been a little too preoccupied trying to keep her off Hawke’s back to take much note of whether or not her cheekbones really could cut glass.

Now, though, it’s suddenly all he can think about, the sleek angles of her face and the strong jaw tapering to her sharp chin, and – okay, she’s not unattractive, he’ll give her that.

Of course, there’s a fine line here, as is always the case with extremes, like begrudging acceptance and deep-in-your-gut recognition of fact. And it doesn’t take him long to realise that he’s long since crossed the line when it comes to his impression of the Seeker.

Admitting it, though? Hell no.

Keep reading

My Rhythm and Blues (Part One)

Wordcount: 2.867

Genre: Fluff / Slice of Life

Jackson x Reader
Description:  When Jackson asks you 20 dates to make you love him.


A/N: The moment you realise that underneath your heart of glass you’re quiet the romantic type and you feel the urge to write a fluffy scenario about that beautiful soul of Jackson. Yes, I know I’ve got many and many other stories to update; no, I didn’t forget about them; yes, I’m slowly writing them in the meantime but for the moment I needed something fresh and simple where I didn’t have to think too much.

Hope you enjoy it ^^

P.S.:  Jackson is an “Anima bella”, I can’t find other words to describe him. Protect him with all your heart

Part TwoPart Three

“What do you think of Jackson?”

You turn to the guy standing in front of you, who’s glancing with deadly seriousness, as if his life depends on this question.

Your right eyebrow perfectly curves in the exact instant he taps a white Reebok on the ground, silently pushing you for an answer, obliging you to ignore for a brief moment the paper pattern you were working on “… Why are you referring to yourself in the third person?”

Jackson looks at you as it should be obvious “Because the others don’t want to come here anymore and I have to do everything by myself and I can’t ask you: what do you think of me?, certain traditions must be observed.”

You glance at him shocked and the more he stays there with a dummy smile on his face, the more you ask yourself what did you do in your past life to deserve such a punishment: Jackson Wang that apparently has a crush on you.

That Jackson Wang.

Jackson “I’m the one who louds the loudest and I’m proud of it!” Wang.

And it wouldn’t be a problem if he was an ordinary guy and you wouldn’t work for the JYP Entertainment, with that little, tiny, microscopic clause that doesn’t allow you to date any of the idols working there -to be honest, even dating the guy who spends most of his time at the printer would be problematic-, and since you’ve worked hard to become a great stylist there, you don’t want to mess everything up because of a pair of deep brown eyes, a laugh that could light the entire nocturnal Seoul up and a body that would make everybody’s head spin.

Even yours, because despite everything he left quite an impression on you since the first day you put your foot in their dressing room: he wore a black tank top that highlighted his shape, baggy pants, baseball cap… And he was trying to spread Mark on the ground while his high pitched laugh cheered the mood. You still remind your chief that firmly announced “She’s _______, from now she’ll be your stylist with us.“ and them, looking at you in a mixture of uncertainty and mistrust that little by little gave way to a genuine friendship based on job: you never stepped in their life more than the necessary and they never seemed to care to deepen the shallow you showed them.

Until BamBam run into your office with a pair of ripped jeans and a curious “What do you think of Jackson?” asked out of the blue, with that smirk of his on his perfectly make-up face, that almost made you pinch your fingers with a needle.

At first you thought he was only playing around as usual –or searching for a way another to finally come out with a stupid “But what do you think of me instead? I’m cool, am I not?”, which was way more BamBam’s style-, Jinyoung casually saying “So, _____-ah, what do you think of Jackson?” some weeks later while you were choosing some clothes for his photo-shoot, made you open your eyes.

Because when someone like Im Jaebum runs so fast just to walk in the elevator with you few days later –getting almost squashed by the sliding doors- and out of breath –and dignity- asks you “What do you think of Jackson—God, this is so embarrassing I’m going to kill him, that idiot!”, it could only mean that something bigger was happening.

Like that time Mark crossed the line with an anxious “What do you think of Jackson? Today he told us that he loves how you look in this suit, you remind him of a summer day at the seaside. You know? He’s such a nice guy, really sweet, he’d make you laugh every minute and would take care of you—“  -not even he was sponsoring the new BMW car- while Yugyeom was pinching his elbow whispering something like “That’s not the plan! You have just to ask her what she thinks of him, not that he’d like to spend his whole life with her!” before disappearing with a terrified expression, aware that once back to the dorms Jackson would probably play at Mahjong with their bones.

However, their random visits became sporadic and you’ve started to think that maybe it was only a bad joke of your imagination or you may have seen something that actually didn’t exist in the first place; or you’ve probably scared everybody when that little rain of sunshine of Youngjae came in while you were almost reaching the twelfth non-stop working hour and before he could even open his mouth, you’ve shut him up with a blunt “Tell Jackson that I think he’s an idiot and if one of you shows up here once again, I swear I’ll fill his body with so many pins that people will think you’ve started to do acupuncture!”.

Now that you think of it, nobody came anymore since that episode and you slowly pushed aside the idea that maybe Jackson could feel something for you.

Until today.

He’s walked in with his usual self-confidence, smiling to all the seniors busy with some projects, playfully chitchatting as if he was a friend who was just passing by because if there’s a thing you’ve understood about Jackson Wang is that he never puts himself on a pedestal: he always treats you with respect, he doesn’t care about his popularity, he’s so down-on-earth he sometimes forget he’s an idol and should keep his distance, and he’s just so open up when it comes to people that maybe for this reason you’ve never thought he could see you more than a simple stylist: a pat on the head, random compliments, a fast hug after a concert… He does these things with everybody, how could you think to be different in his eyes?

But when you’ve been left alone, you’ve smelled in the air that something was going on: in the exact instant you’re eyes have met, you caught a flash of insecurity mixed to joy that almost made you choke with the snack you were eating.


You come back to earth, stiffening when you see him stepping nearer “What if I don’t think anything?”

“Liar” he grins “Everybody thinks something of someone, that’s why people always try to make a good impression on others” He points out firmly and you’re actually surprised by his smartness; I mean, not that he doesn’t look smart but Jackson has always been that kind of guy who prefers to act dumb and carefree just to rise up the mood, as if the happiness of all the people who gravitates into his life was up to him “Come on _______!”

You sigh, leaning down your head “Don’t “come on” me! And what do you care anyway?”

He now blinks “Because I like you, what else?”

“You like—“ that’s now your time to blink, astonished by his pureness “You don’t even know me!”

“That’s true. But Id’ like to… I find you interesting, I’d like to know more about you…” he toys with the threads of his jumpsuit, nervously looking at you “Lately I can’t help but think about you: what is ______ doing? Is she having fun? I’d like to be the one who makes her laugh. What if she finds someone else tonight? Someone who’ll receive that beautiful smile of her because you don’t smile with everybody, you know?, you just do it with your friends and parents and it’s just so marvelous the way you sparkle—“

“You’re exaggerating” you interrupt him, going back to your pattern only to avoid his tender expression that caresses your face “I smile also when I’m with you.”

“No, you don’t. Or well, you do… But it’s different” he pulls up his cheeks with his fingers “It’s just like this, a bit fake. You’re so composed when you’re with us but outside you’re so… Vibrant. I sometimes ask myself how it would be being dragged into your brightness, that’s probably why I came here—Well, it’s also because the others threatened to kill me if I’d ask them to come here again in my place…” he scratches his hair, he really doesn’t know when it’s better to keep certain confessions to himself.

“Jackson, you’re really a nice guy but I’ve never thought anything about you, in any possible way… And anyway I’m already seeing someone–”

“That’s not true” you slowly turn to him “You’ve broken up with that Choi-Something. You’ve stopped to post pictures with him on your Instagram.”

“Since when do you follow me?!”

“Always! Well, of course I can’t truly follow you or people would start to assume that something’s going on, but I do!” he explains cheerfully “That last picture you posted is simply gorgeous, you looked beautiful under those cherry trees” He confesses with sincerity, making you blush for embarrassment “I always watch your profile before going to sleep.”

Jackson is way too direct, he says what he thinks without caring how much odd he could be in front of others or how uncomfortable you may be after his words hit you like a camion. Because they really do. You’re not used to guys who frankly tell you what there’s deep in their hearts and you’re quiet scared about it.

“That’s kind of creepy.” You admit and he resembles a lot the old you, the adolescent who followed her favorite actor or singer on social networks imagining how your life together would have been.

“I know… But it’s the only way for having you with me always” he chuckles “It’s creepy also told like this, sorry…”

You look at him with the corner of the eye, then you turn back to your desk “Can’t we talk about it later? I gotta work, sorry…” You hoped for him to go away but as seconds pass, he still stands there munching his cheeks “Jackson, you should go too–”

“Ugh! It wasn’t supposed to go like this” he loses his façade of perfect peacefulness “I should have listened to Jinyoung when he told to not be too sincere or I would have frightened you” he covers his face with both hands “Listen, pretend it didn’t happen and let’s start again!” he flaps his hands in the air “Wait there!”

“What—Jackson, where are you going?!” you roll your eyes when he runs to the door, disappearing behind it.

“Stay there!” he closes it and after a few seconds he shows up again, happily smiling at your stunned expression “_______, I like you! How about a date?”

“… You didn’t start well even now.”

“A bit of cooperation from you would be appreciated, though” He mops, falling on the couch near the wall “I’d only like to know what you think of me, it’s an easy-peasy request…”

Silence falls between you two and you use that apparent calm to study him better, as if for all this time you’ve kept your distance in all the possible ways: he’s got a particular beauty, delicate features that don’t intact his masculinity, with those brown almond expressive eyes that always speak for him, and lips always pulled up in a smile that irradiate a warmth that overshadow the perfection of his body that more than one time you’ve described to yourself as “insanely beautiful”, because you’ve got a thing for his wide shoulders, masculine arms and hands full of veins.

You like Jackson Wang, actually.

He’s funny, polite, he acts like a child but knows when it’s the right time to turn into the mature guy he is.

In the middle of most nights, when you can’t sleep and you let your imagination graze, you’ve sometimes fantasized about him holding you in his big arms, cuddling in that sweetness he honestly shows without any fear of judgment, submerged by his passion and you’ve been so curious to know if he’d really be a perfect boyfriend –as many depict him- or if there’s something else beyond those labels he keeps glued to himself just for the sake of his career.

But what if you’re not ready?

Your deep sigh catches his attention “Jackson is a one-way guy: if you step in his life once, inevitably yours will change and there’s no turn back; that’s what I’ve always thought about you…” you admit, avoiding his stare when his lips stretch in a smile full of expectations “Hence, I don’t think it would be a good idea to date you.” you now make eye contact and the confusion written on his face makes you understand he won’t give up easily

“Because I am… Me, that’s it?”

“You’re not exactly an ordinary guy, you know?”

“But I want to!” he sits on the edge of the couch “I want to try all those stuffs: sending you tons of texts, dating, putting my hands under your vest, calling you when I’m away, have everlasting talks on the backseat while cuddling—“

“In this order?”

“You know what I’m trying to say.” He responds at your giggle with a smile and you can sense the tension slowly fading away.

You give him a sidelong glance “Have you thought about the consequences when you came here? If they found out, I’m out. I worked so hard for this job and I don’t want to lose it because of you.” you don’t mean to be harsh but words slipped from your mouth against his persistence.

“Of course I did, why do you think it took me so long to finally ask you out?” he claps his hands “Let’s give us a term: if after that period you don’t want to go on, I’ll give up on you.” he puts his hand on his heart and you snort, exasperated.

“Jackson, no, I told you it’s not a good idea—“

“______, I swear I won’t put you in trouble“ he swallows, crawling fingers on his knees “I won’t tell anyone—Well, apart from the others but I have to! Jaebum has got hawk eyes and he understands immediately when something’s going on so I can’t keep secrets from them… But I promise I’ll be careful” he catches a breath and his confidence starts to crumble “I know you’re scared, I’m scared too as hell but I want to try, I want all of you—Well, not in that sense—Ok, ok also in that sense“ he stops and wrinkles his nose “What? Don’t look at me like that, I know you think the same when you see us. BamBam reads all the smut your girls write out there.”

You chuckle at his red cheeks, at his pout and at the simply adorableness he exudes with his fast speech and when he laughs back, with that face that spread pure brightness, you can’t help but feel your stomach squirm at the idea that this situation looks exactly like one of those dramas you sometimes watch during dinner and you’re actually living it.  

A dream that comes true.

However, you’re too down-on-earth to enjoy the moment without hesitations, for this reason you stay silent, studying his saddened expression.

Jackson sniffs a bit and leans his hat, standing up “Oh well, I tried…” he nervously chuckle “Now I should really go, sorry to bother you.” he bows and fast reaches the door and you realize immediately how this is your once-in-a-lifetime chance and he walks out the door, this will be just a bittersweet memory you’ll regret for the rest of your life.

“Do you have any idea how hard it will be for me?” you hear yourself saying when he’s on the doorstep.

“Of course I do, I thought about it over and over… It will be hard for me too, anyway.”

You return the gaze “How long should it be?”

Jackson widens his stare and almost starts to jump around “So you accept! Oh my—I have to tell it to Mark, he thought you’d kick me out immediately and—“ he stops when you grunt, crossing your arms “Ahm, let’s see… How about twenty dates?”

“What?! They’re too much!”

“Considering we’ll be apart for days or even weeks, I think they’re really few.” He points out without hesitation and looks at you with his Squirtle-smile, waiting for a reply.

You pause “Twenty dates, not more.”

He shrugs his shoulders “It will depend on you” he cups his face “Jeez, I can’t believe it. You and me—Ah, I want to scream so badly—“


“Then I’ll go back to my dorm, I’ll scream there as much as I want” he responds and you smile, shaking your head; he gets closer but immediately stops, stiffening “Ok, so… I’ll call you, then…” Jackson looks at you in a mixture of surprise, joy and embarrassment, not even he assisted at a miracle; meanwhile you can’t help but give him a dim smile as you watch him go away, with that last one glance that makes your entire body chill.

You’ve never seen someone so truly happy to date you.

Unfortunately, you can’t help but think that troubles are about to begin.

anonymous asked:

How they feel and act after you've broken up with them

Altair: He completely immersed himself into training. Destroying dummy after dummy, pushing his body way past its limits. He didn’t notice there were tears streaming down his face as he destroyed the last dummy. He felt his face and quickly wiped his eyes looking around and hoping no one saw his moment of weakness.
He finished wiping his face as Malik came into the training room and stood at the entrance. Deciding to keep his distance.
“Maybe you should take a break?” Malik called from his spot. Altair grabbed a cloth and began to dry his sweaty hands and face.
“Why are you here Malik?”
“(Y/n told me what happened. Are you alright? I know you love her.”
Altair spun around punching his friend in the face.
“You know nothing about me!” He yelled and stormed out of the room.
Malik stood up rubbing his jaw and sighed. Hoping Altair would calm down before he hurt himself or someone else.

Ezio: He refused to leave his bed. He kept his door locked and wouldn’t respond to his mother and sister and they tried to get him to eat and drink something. He didn’t want to hear their voices. He wanted to hear yours.
He kept his eyes glued to the door waiting and hoping he would hear a knock and your voice calling to him. Telling him how much you loved him and how you wanted to be with him forever. But you never came back for him.
He dreamt of you two getting married, having a family and living happily ever after. But it seemed that his dream would never come true.

Connor: He stopped smiling. He refused to eat and sleep and only drank enough to keep himself alive. He was a broken man. The love of his life had just left him in this pit of sadness and despair and it didn’t look like they were coming back any time soon.
He felt his heart shatter every time he thought of you. He couldn’t even go into the room you two shared. When he did all he could think about was the way you cuddled up to him in your sleep and the ring he had hidden in the dresser. He planned on taking you to the river where you met and asking you to spend the rest of your life with him. Though you left before he could ever ask.

Edward: He drank, a lot. He got so drunk he barley knew his own name, but that was ok with him. He didn’t want to think clearly. He wanted his mind to be in a constant fog.
That way he wouldn’t think of you. Wouldn’t remember the nights you shared on the deck of the Jackdaw looking at the stars. The late night cuddles when one of you had a nightmare. The drinks you shared.
It all pained him more than he could ever express.
So he drowned himself in his bottle, and his only regret was letting you go.

If you’d like me to write a preference with Evie and/or Jacob please say so in the request. And send in some requests!!


Tuesday was good but also bad? That’s really confusing but hear me out. It was bad because I was still upset from the day before. It was good because Dean spent all day cheering me up. 

p.s. Definitely read part 5 


Since he stands at the door during intake, he’s always the first staff member I see every morning. When I walked to through the doors he immediately asked if I was feeling any better. He looked really concerned and I was dying for a hug, but I told him so-so and headed on inside. 


During second period we had an assembly and I was sitting in the front row. When Dean walked in his eyes found mine almost instantly. The dummy started making faces at me to get me laugh. 


After the assembly, I was on my way to class when some DUMBASS WITH A FIDGET SPINNER span his thingy right over my head and my super curly Dominican hair got all caught up and tangled in it. Since I was already kind of upset this happening pushed me close to tears and Dean saw from across the hall and bolted towards me. He chastised the boy for being so careless and untangled the fidget spinner from my hair. As soon as it was out of my hair I started walking away because I felt like I was gonna cry and I didn’t wanna do it in front of people for virtually no reason. So I rushed to class without even saying thank you (I remember feeling kinda bad but like oh well.)

After I was settled in my class he stuck his head in and mouthed “Are you okay?” from the door.

I kinda shrugged in response. He looked concerned but went ahead to close the door when I shouted “Mr. Dean! Thanks.” He grinned and went ahead to close the door.


At lunch he swung by my table to make sure if I was alright and by then I was feeling better. 


At the end of the day everyone piles into his office to grab their jackets or phones or both. His desk is in the corner of the room. Not gonna lie, I practically RAN down the hall to get to his office before the mass of kids did. I slid into the office and saw an unopened bottle of water on the desk he was sitting at. I went to grab the water and I was standing in between his legs, my one leg brushing against his.

Dean: “Ms. [ My last name ], don’t you think you’re standing a little close to me?”

And I hadn’t even noticed what I was doing. After he pointed it out, I had the best/worst idea ever. I smirked and pressed my leg against his more and said, “I actually don’t think I’m close enough.”

When I tell you that I’m not sure what demon possessed me, I’m being completely honest. I definitely didn’t regret it and I don’t think he did either.

He made a face and said my FIRST NAME under his breath and I stepped away as students started to fill his room up. 

anonymous asked:

"your lips are warm" for either! (Nalu or gajevy obvs lol)

hmm i’m gonna do gajevy this time since I’ve done Nalu quite a lot hehe


Nothing about Gajeel was warm. He wasn’t as cold as Ice Princess, but he definitely wasn’t hot-headed like Salamander. His magic was brutal and raw, and everything about him was frosty. 

But when Levy McGarden kissed him, he felt pretty warm at that moment. It felt like he had just drank an entire keg of beer without the hangover. Her kiss felt different than kissing other girls. He had kissed other girls in his life, but he had never had to bend over this far to kiss one of them. She was short, but her kiss was fiery. 

“Your lips are warm,” she mumbled, and Gajeel had to work not to smirk at her words. 

When they broke apart, he finally did. “Damn, shrimp. Didn’t know you could kiss like that.” 

“Of course. I’ve had plenty of practice,” she said nonchalantly, and Gajeel’s mouth dropped open. Who was it? Jet? Droy? He’d kill them if they’d ever laid a kiss on her lips!

“I meant kissing my stuffed animals when I was a kid, dummy!” Levy said, her face turning red as she waved her arms in front of her. 

“Huh. Didn’t think you were into that kinda thing,” he teased, and she smacked him in the gut. He hated to admit it, but she packed quite a punch. 

Gajeel walked Levy back home a few moments later, kissing her again when she was on her doorstep. 

And this time, his lips felt warm thanks to her. 


There ya go, anon! I hope you enjoyed! Thank you so much for requesting!

Requests are closed for now :) 

anonymous asked:

ddlg is literally roleplaying childhood sexual abuse. i hope you legit get raped.

Daddy Dom / Little Girl. DDLG, or dd/lg, is a relationship in which one person is the caregiver or “daddy” and the other is childlike. It is NOT a relationship between an actual father and daughter or any minor. This is a type of BDSM relationship that may or may not involve sex, but often involves play with child-like things, such as stuffed animals, bed-time stories, and spankings. The lg part of the relationship is often called the “little.”

Source: https://www.google.co.uk/amp/s/www.urbandictionary.com/define.php%3Fterm%3Dddlg%26amp%3Dtrue

“I hope you get raped” is not a nice thing to say especially if people have experienced with that kind of trauma so you can go eff yourself you big twat. You pathetic little coward, u don’t have a life if u coming at me like that. Your mum would be mad at you for that you psycho.
You loser, jerk face, dummy, dumbo , you flop 24/7 , I hate that you’re so ignorant so useless.

I pity you , I feel sorry for your ignorance.

EVITA (1978) starters – act one.
feel free to change pronouns as necessary! ( some nsfw )

  • ❝ What kind of goddess has lived among us
  • ❝ How will we ever get by without her?
  • ❝ In the end you could not deliver. ❞
  • ❝ Enjoy your prayers because you haven’t got long. ❞
  • ❝ She’s not coming back to you
  • ❝ Fly away with me!
  • ❝ I never dreamed that a kiss could be as sweet as this. ❞
  • ❝ I was a desperate man!
  • ❝ To think that a man as famous as you are could love a poor little nothing like me
  • ❝ I understand their feelings. ❞
  • ❝ Just listen to that!
  • ❝ They’re on to you, _____. ❞
  • ❝ I’d get out while you can. ❞
  • ❝ I’m moving out with my man!
  • ❝ Now _____, don’t get carried away. ❞
  • ❝ Don’t hear words that I didn’t say!
  • ❝ You’d desert the girl you love?
  • ❝ The girl I love? What are you talking about?
  • ❝ You must be quite relieved that no one’s told the papers so far. ❞
  • ❝ Seems to me there’s no point in resisting. ❞
  • ❝ She’s made up her mind, you’ve no choice. ❞
  • ❝ The likes of you get swept up in the morning with the trash. ❞
  • ❝ Screw the middle classes! I will never accept them!
  • ❝ Do all your one night stands give you this trouble?
  • ❝ _____, beware of the city. ❞
  • ❝ Those who are fools are swallowed up whole. ❞
  • ❝ Bad is good for me! I’m bored, so clean, and so ignored. ❞
  • ❝ I’ve only been predictable, respectable. ❞
  • ❝ All you’ve done to me, was that a young girl’s fantasy?
  • ❝ I played your city games alright, didn’t I?
  • ❝ I already know what cooks, how the dirty city feels and looks. ❞
  • ❝ I tasted it last night, didn’t I?
  • ❝ Whatever you say, I’ll not steal you away!
  • ❝ Don’t hold back, you are certain to impress. ❞
  • ❝ Tell the driver this is where I’m staying. ❞
  • ❝ Give your lover the very best. ❞
  • ❝ Give me credit, I’ll find ways of paying. ❞
  • ❝ What more could we ask of you now? ❞
  • ❝ Oh, but it’s sad when a love affair dies. ❞
  • ❝ I know you’ll look back on the good times we’ve shared. ❞
  • ❝ Do up your trousers and go!
  • ❝ Our passion was just too intense to survive. ❞
  • ❝ For God’s sake, get out!
  • ❝ Your act hasn’t changed much
  • ❝ I’ve heard so much about you. ❞
  • ❝ Are you here on your own?
  • ❝ It seems crazy but you must believe there’s nothing calculated, nothing planned. ❞
  • ❝ Please forgive me if I seem naive. ❞
  • ❝ I would never want to force your hand. ❞
  • ❝ I don’t always rush in like this. ❞
  • ❝ If I’m wrong I hope you’ll tell me so. ❞
  • ❝ I’m not talking of a hurried night a frantic tumble then a shy goodbye. ❞
  • ❝ Please go on, you enthrall me. ❞
  • ❝ I’d be surprisingly good for you. ❞
  • ❝ Hello and goodbye I’ve just unemployed you. ❞
  • ❝ I’m sure he enjoyed you. ❞
  • ❝ Don’t act sad or surprised. ❞
  • ❝ Let’s be friends, civilized. ❞
  • ❝ Come on, little one. ❞
  • ❝ Don’t sit there like a dummy!
  • ❝ Move, funny face!
  • ❝ You’ll get by, you always have before. ❞
  • ❝ That isn’t funny. ❞
  • ❝ We have declined to an all-time low. ❞
  • ❝ Whom did you sleep — dine with yesterday?
  • ❝ Is that the extent of your interest in me? ❞
  • ❝ It doesn’t matter what those morons say!
  • ❝ All you have to do is sit and wait, keeping out of everybody’s way. ❞  
  • ❝ We’ll – you’ll be handed power on a plate. ❞
  • ❝ This is crazy defeatist talk!
  • ❝ Let him save them as he saved me. ❞
  • ❝ I often get those nightmares too. They always take some swallowing. ❞