hand smoothed

Empty Promise

Masterlist

Hurling your booties to the floor as soon as you entered the house, you quickly stomped up the stairs, mind absolutely fuming.

Pulling off your dress before even reaching the bedroom, you let it slip to the ground, completely carless to where it landed.

Making a beeline straight for the restroom, you pulled off the rest of your undergarments, turning on the shower to the hottest temperature you could handle.

Stepping in, you faced the wall, letting the hot water rush down your back, needing the steam to sooth you as soon as possible.

Leaning your head back, you raised a hand to smooth out your hair before shifting so that the water could focus on your tense shoulders.

Feeling a small sob escape your lips, you leaned forwards to rest your forehead on the slick tile as the steam started to gather around.

Back hunched, you let the rest of your sobs rack through your body, fighting to finally be felt after weeks and weeks of pushing them away.

Sniffling, you absentmindedly went through the rest of your shower routine, sluggishly moving as you did.

Carefully stepping out as you finished, you firmly wrapped one of the towels around you body, shuffling over to stand in front of the mirror.

Wiping the fog off with one hand, you let the other brush back strands of hair that clung to parts of your face, finally capturing your broken demeanor.

Taking a shallow breath in, you preceded to open the door, allowing the steam to clear out from the bathroom.

Walking over to the closet, you started to pull out different shirts when suddenly you heard the front door slam downstairs.

Feeling anger bubble up again, you mentally beat yourself up for taking so long in the shower. You had planned to be asleep, if not at least just laying in bed, anything to avoid him for the rest of the night.

As his heavy footsteps neared closer and closer, you forced yourself to stay muted, rubbing a towel through your wet hair in front of the mirror.

Hey babe”

You saw a blonde head pass the doorframe followed by the sound of his phone being plugged into its charger.

Completely ignoring him, you flipped the towel to rest over the shower railing, hurriedly taking out your contacts.

Now shirtless, he stepped into the bathroom, quietly wrapping his arms around your waist.

Dropping his head to kiss the crook of your neck, you immediately brushed him off, stepping out to the carpet.

Whoa okay, what’s your deal?”

Keep reading

littleprecioussmile asked:

52 with cobert? Gosh, love your drabbles :)

And now back to our regularly scheduled angst. :) (though I will do more fluff and perhaps some smut later)

///———/////////////////////////——–///

Mirror

Butterfly paintings. That’s what they were all supposed to be, those paintings her art tutor had allowed her to indulge in as a child. Even forty-five years later, even lying in the chilled darkness of her marriage bed, she saw the pictures she’d made on thick paper, spreading paint in the center, and folding it, pressing it hard under her soft, smooth hands. She remembered how she’d peeled the paper slowly apart and admired the symmetry of the paint. Butterflies, they were supposed to be. Butterflies, their wings mirroring one another on either side of the crease. But she never saw butterflies in the paint. Never.

And tonight, she no longer wondered why.

Those pressed pieces of art were much like life, weren’t they? They were much like marriage, relationships, love. They weren’t like butterflies at all - though love often began crawling and slow, then voracious for more and more of the other, before at last blooming into flight, it seemed to never end there. The butterfly never seemed to last. Instead, she realized, it leapt across the crease of the paper, and whittled down again to a stump of feeling, inching along the ground.

How did they come to this? How, after everything they’d shared, they’d made, had they come back again…waning to the slivers of their first year again, Robert distant, and she desperate to make him happy? How?

A darker part of her mind, a part that was eager to snuff out the last bit of light left, wondered if he’d wanted to stay in his dressing room tonight? It had been a week since the fire, but Edith’s room was not yet ready. Perhaps he wanted to sleep apart, but Edith was lying in his small bed instead. It could’ve been true, she realized. Robert wasn’t pleased with her, though she wasn’t sure why. Miss Bunting certainly hadn’t made anything better, and then Mr Bricker ruffled Robert’s nerves, though she couldn’t think how.

How?

She laid still in the dark, and her mind creased and unfolded those butterflies again. They were all so thick and happy in the center, so thin and spotty near the edge. Were they going back to that? Were they going back to that distance? Back to that curt conversation? Going back to Cora being the only one in love?

And she was. She was still in love with him.

She listened, then, for his sounds beside her. She listened to his shallow breathing, his occasional rough pull of air through his nose. She felt the shifting of his feet beneath her covers, and she realized…he was still awake.

They’d just been lying here, together, awake.

Cora swallowed, and then inexplicably, felt terribly, terribly guilty.

When was the last time she’d touched him? When was the last time she’d kissed him? It’d been weeks, she realized. Weeks. They’d intended to before the fire a week ago, but then…

Well.

Cora let her head fall toward him, toward where he slept with his back to her, and she watched in the dim light of dying embers the rise and fall of his shoulder. There was no sleeping rhythm in it yet, and so, she turned slowly toward him, and curled into the warmth of his back.

Her nose nestled first between his shoulder blades, and she smelled his familiar woody scent, the smell conjuring up thousands of memories of him that altogether choked her before she stretched her throat up, her lips finding the back of his neck.

And she pressed them there.

He didn’t respond immediately, and so she kissed him again, his cotton shoulder, and she ran her hand along his arm, finding his hand beneath the duvet. She held it, and she tried to ignore the way his did not grasp hers in return.

But he did roll to his back to meet her. After two, three more soft kisses to the nape of his neck, he did turn, and she moved partially atop of him, kissing his jaw, his chin.

She waited for him, then, she waited for his hand to find her upper arm, and to hold it, but it did not. So she moved on, to his mouth, and she kissed it, once, twice, waiting again for him, for the small lift of his chin, then the deep breath he’d release. But his chin remained still, his breath remained measured, and it felt like a stumble. It felt as if he’d missed some part of a well choreographed dance, as if he misstepped his lead in their own private waltz, and it made the space between her lungs heavy and it ached.

But instead of retreating, she kissed him harder, a glimmer of light still left in her mind. And he kissed her back, she felt. He did. Softly, quietly, but he kissed her, and so…she only moved further.

She let her hand trail down his shirt, and it easily slid into the waist band of his pajamas. Her fingers searched him out as she kissed his lips, crawling toward him, and she pulled his shaft into her hand, and held it.

But then, his hand caught her wrist, stilling her, and he moved his mouth away from her lips.

A panic seized up in her breast, but she only blinked down at him, her brow furrowed.

“Not tonight, Cora.”

Her shoulders slumped of their own accord, as if they were asking him why, and as if he had heard them, he answered.

“I’m tired. And then, of course, Edith.”

He nodded to the dividing door, and Cora frowned. And then nodded, too.

She let go of him, she slid her hand from his pants, and then she moved away from him, letting him roll back onto his left side, away from her.

And she, in turn, rolled onto her back, realizing with some alarm, that she was angry.

Her face was on fire, practically in flames. He had considered Edith, then. And he had been awake. But he’d not wanted to…and why not? She fought the urge to roll away from him as well, but then she didn’t want to appear angry, though she was.

Oh! Why did she ever do that? Why did she act so forward when he clearly had been prepared to rest? And, slowly, the fire she felt was no longer anger. It was embarrassment. But then, why on earth should there be any embarrassment? And then hot confusion. And next was fear of tumbling back across the crease of their time, of their love. She wanted to be the butterfly, not the splotches of accidental paint, smeared against their mirrored selves.

Cora pushed out a hard breath, letting clean air enter her - new air, air that had not been moments before.

The light in her mind flared up with a sputter. They’d be fine. Their life together was not a mirror image of itself, there was no symmetrical line drawn in the height of their happiness. There was no crease that they had crossed over. They’d be fine.

She let her eyes roam her room, their room, then, finding signs of he truth. His housecoat draped over that chair, the painting he loved so much hanging over the chest of drawers, the picture of their daughter still on her bedside table - they’d survived that, didn’t they?

And then…her eyes found a flicker of dying firelight in her vanity’s mirror, and she looked.

She saw them, Robert curled far away from her, clinging to the far side of the bed, and she…she clinging to the other, more space between them than what they inhabited collectively.

And Cora felt the prick behind her nose, and the burn in her eyes.

Butterfly paintings. And creases. And perhaps love, after all, was really just a mirror of itself. Perhaps…perhaps…but, God, she prayed she was wrong.

veilfires asked:

okay that painting you did with all the flowers is one of the prettiest things I've ever seen! how did you paint that skin it's so pretty! I'm in actual awe rn

Omg!!! Thank you!!! <33333

I use a brush set from Deviant Art and I changed one of the brushes settings a bit, so it has some texture:

That just shows the different settings i use for that brush

But ye for this one I started by doing it in grayscale first, then I went into photoshop and added color by doing the color balance adjustment, and then back in sai I put a brown color on a new layer ontop and clipped it and lowered the opacity, and then i started adding new shadows/highlights ontop to make it pop it a bit more. I also use a blending brush that I use very very slightly and only on certain parts of her face and hands to smooth things out.

So as far as painting it I started with a base gray, then added darker values and i save lighter tones and highlights for last, and then once i have a good enough foundation i go back and edit things, add more shadows, take away, up the contrast etc. 

And also since Im basing this drawing off of a picture, I had a good reference for lighting, tho i did make a few changes, based off of the little anatomy that i know, as well as the fact that vivs face shape is alot different too, but it helps to give u a general idea of where things should go:

I hope that makes sense! No one has ever asked how i do stuff before lmaooo

I could try to make a mini tutorial for you if you’d like?

8

hippysetfree 1000 follower give away!

To celebrate having one thousand followers (little late haha) I wanted to give back to all of you. This isn’t a scam either, this is the real deal haha.

  • Must be following me: hippysetfree
  • ONLY COUNTING REBLOGS. You can still favorite it to mark it or whatever, but only counting reblogs in the end.
  • DEADLINE: March 26th, 2014.
  • Please don’t delete any text, let everyone have a chance! :-)
  • Everyone will be added to a random name generator, so everyone’s chances of winning are equal.
  • Please have your ask box enabled and willing to give me their address. 
  • Shipping worldwide, but anywhere outside of the US will take a little longer. 

I will check if you are following me or not, so please be honest. I might add something new, so I’ll keep you guys updated on that. 

These are the Prizes:

One Buddha statue

One sandal wood mala (green) and one sandal wood mala with bigger beads (tan)

One petoskey stone hand smoothed (with note about what it means metaphysically and what it means to me)

One book (Coffee With the Buddha)

Two incense boxes (Cool Water and Divine Power)

One hand carved oak stick (with note about meaning to me)

One letter giving you a little more info on me and thanking you for being apart of this give away. :-)

Love you all, and hope you guys have an awesome day, keep vibing my friends. Peace. ॐ

The Signs as Feelings
  • Aries:A sundress with nothing underneath; lying on a trampoline at nighttime; being dragged into an adventure; the way your stomach feels like it's falling faster than the rest of you; a brand new backpack; a balcony view.
  • Taurus:Someone you love tying your shoes for you; when someone points out something about you that nobody has ever noticed before; the perfect shade of lipstick; snorkeling in shallow water, following the fishes; a high school party.
  • Gemini:When everybody laughs with you; seeing a "sign"; a handful of smooth rocks from the bottom of a river; holding hands in a platonic way; feeling awestruck and terrified by the idea of a world beyond this one; cutting fresh fruit.
  • Cancer:A light sunburn; the comforting voice of your mother; a black-sand beach; a weeping willow tree; bare feet in Bermuda grass; tiny fish nibbling on your toes; fireworks on the fourth of July.
  • Leo:Intense, secret eye contact; "accidental" touches; a long-awaited reunion; the sleek, shiny atmosphere of a fashion show; exceeded expectations; the sunset after the storm; the perfect candid picture.
  • Virgo:A hotel room with a skyline view; a shy, solemn first touch; shopping for new school supplies; the soles of your feet in warm sand; the way it feels to wear bright colors; the "new book" smell.
  • Libra:An airplane ride; a shooting star; painting stray objects with nail polish; the moment the lights go down before a concert begins; the way your confidence grows when you read; being together.
  • Scorpio:Walking on an empty golf course at night; when your feet touch the colder water in the deep parts of a lake; squinting at the moon until you can make out its craters; being swept off of your feet during a hug.
  • Sagittarius:The electric atmosphere of a dark movie theatre; packing a suitcase; shaking out a pillowcase or a new garbage bag, feeling it fill with air; driving on an empty highway at nighttime, windows down.
  • Capricorn:Yawning in the shower; a brand new, leather-bound journal; the mystic, blue light of an aquarium; a package on your doorstep; spending time alone by choice; receiving a reward that you know you've earned.
  • Aquarius:Stealing alcohol from your parents; sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night to take a walk; talking about ghosts; the smell of makeup wipes; unrequited adoration; the sound of Stevie Nicks' voice.
  • Pisces:A hug when you really need one; warm rain in the summertime; espadrille sandals; an accidental nap; crowd-surfing; the first time wearing a brand new pair of shoes, anticipating the compliments.

anonymous asked:

CAN YOU WRITE A JIKOOK SCENARIO ABOUT JUNGKOOK PLAYING WITH JIMIN'S RED HAIR OMG AHHH😂😭😘😍

“how does it look, kookie?” jimin bounces over to jungkook the minute the stylist says she’s done. 

fucking swallow jeon jungkook get it together. “it looks,” fucking great, gorgeous, beautiful, goddamn how can you even pull that off that well. “really good.” 

“it’s kind of a weird color on me though huh,” jimin says, tugging on a few strands uncertainly. 

jimin’s hair looks so soft and before he’s realized, his hand is lifting to smooth through the strands, it’s as soft as it looks, maybe softer, and jimin blinks at him. 

“kookie?” 

“it’s my favorite color,” jungkook mumbles. on my favorite person. 

3

“Why am I doing this? We finished the case, we could just bail right now; forget about dinner,” you said, standing in front of the motel room’s small mirror and smoothing your hand over your hair. It wouldn’t matter; you knew everything would be picked apart by your family as it always had been. As you always had been.

Sam came to stand beside you, looking sturdy and poised in his suit.

“Because you said you wanted closure. One more dinner to let them know you’re gone,” he said, repeating your words from earlier. 

“One more dinner and then no more family.”

“Hey,” Sam said, placing his hands on your shoulders to turn you to face him. “That’s not true. One more dinner and then no more family who doesn’t treat you right.”

You let yourself smile at the thought and lifted your chin, giving Sam a nod, and headed out together.

x

anonymous asked:

could you do an imagine where you're dating Liam and come to one of his lacrosse games against devenford prep and Brett realizes that Liam is dating you and he flirts with you to make Liam jealous?

Number 9 | Liam Dunbar

Liam smirked and tugged one of his gloves off to feel the jersey she wore. “Not my fault you look good with it on.” After an hour of arguing, she had finally agreed to wear his jersey during the championship. Of course, Liam couldn’t get enough of it.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

The night before your wedding day with Luke

luke couldn’t sleep at all. he didn’t know whether it was his nerves or how excited he was (or maybe because his groomsmen kidnapped him from you this morning and he was still peeved about that). for the umpteenth time, he rolled over on his back, caving as he reached for his phone. he pressed your number and waited for you to answer, hopeful that your bridesmaids didn’t take your phone.

“someone must be missing me,” you tease, answering the phone. luke smiled as his head felt flat against the pillows.

“hey, they kidnapped me from the most gorgeous girl in the world. of course I’m missing you,” he sighs, smoothing his hand over his face. you giggle and he hears your shift on the bed and it makes him wish he was back in bed with you. “you excited for tomorrow?” he asks.

“yeah, I’m marrying this really dorky, tall guy.” he smiles at your indirectness flipping onto his side. 

“he sounds like a dream. tell me about him,” he plays along.

“well, like I said he’s really dorky. and he’s really tall. he plays in this band that is kinda big and is such a momma’s boy it isn’t funny.”

“I am not a momma’s boy!” he defends, and he hears you giggle, which makes him break out into a smile and giggle himself. there’s a small comfortable silence, but luke breaks it. “I can’t wait to marry you tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait to marry you, either. now get some sleep, big boy. you’ve gotta marry me tomorrow. love you!” 

“love you, too. g’night sweet cheeks.”

I wonder if the screaming is just a Mattie thing, or if other vampires do it too. Like Carmilla.

Just imagine. Carm and Laura are having a little ‘alone time’, all nice and cozy in front of the fire, when they’re suddenly interrupted by a ginger who has (yet again) forgotten how to knock. 

Carmilla rolls her eyes, clamps her hands over Laura’s ears, opens her mouth, and sCREAMS.

When the offending redhead has vacated the room, Carmilla removes her hands, smooths Laura’s hair, and with a smirk, says: 

“Now, where where we, cupcake?” 

2

modern aesthetic mythology | athena

she never got along with her dad. the one time they seemed to agree was that one summer they both wanted to vacay in the same place, but couldn’t agree on where to travel or stay. so once the plane touched down, she grabbed her luggage and told her dad she needed to go to the ladies’ room.

ten minutes later, she pushed on a button and the roof of her car pulled back, the wind whipping her curly locks away from her face. her lips parted into a grin as she showed off her pearly whites. she could hear a bookstore and a library calling out her name. but first, she needed a cup of tea. and maybe some new accessories. she was in athens after all. it was her city.

as the engine revved, she pushed down her sunglasses and let out a holler.
it was like a battle cry.

Apartment 5108 // 11

Apartment 5108 — ft. Oh Sehun

// Contemporary Romance
// Adult Fiction
// Sexual & Explicit Language — in later chapters

A/N: This chapter contains semi-mature content. If you are under 18, I am not responsible for the imagery you will read. :)

Chapters
// 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10

11

“Good morning, Ri.”

A pleasant contentment slips its way to the surface of my mouth while I hear Sehun’s early greeting. His gentle hand smoothes strands of hair behind my shoulder and I slowly awake to a person seemingly belonging up in the stars instead of here with me in this room. He is otherworldly–someone I thought could only be conjured in dreams but I’m not complaining. I drink in the way he welcomes me with the timbre of his voice fresh as morning dew. I drown in his effortless male beauty, holding his attention as if meeting him for the very first time. I bury myself in the way he speaks the one particular part of my name willing me to believe it is special because only he can make it so. There is a prickling desire to hear my full name resting along the rim of his lips but for now I am fulfilled with Ri. And I am satisfied with the person presented before me.

Sehun.

From past experiences, I have learned to never expect more than what is given to me because a constant outcome has always been disappointment. I don’t want to be greedy and ask for more–knowing the possibility could be a result I’m so tired of experiencing. Additional wants and needs could in turn let me down somehow so I stay stationary in my relationship with Sehun. I move at a pace in which can be described by using one word–safe.

I’m comfortable having Sehun every night and morning. Seeing him. Hearing him. Being with him. It is greater than what I imagined my life to be and I dwell in my heart surging from the limitless happiness of our simple moments together. There is nothing more or less than what I want and what I want is simple–to be with him.

“Good morning, Sehun.” I convey a delicate grin.

He draws over an arm and pulls me in, committing to memory how I feel within his hold. It’s a protective gesture almost and I sorely wonder if I will be the only person from this moment forward he will envelop in this manner. I mediate if it’s wrong to hope terribly so. “Breakfast?” His hand drifts lower and further down my waist, over my hip and waltzes with the loose band of my shorts. I believe his interpretation of breakfast greatly differs from my own definition.

“You’re not talking about food, are you?”

He mouths a voiceless no and sends me a smoldering smirk soaring with cruel intentions. A willowy laugh resonates from the depths of my heart and I shake my head at him. We descend into an eased silence, having muted conversations between the gazes of our eyes. He is the person I can speak nothing and everything to with veritable complacency. He understands when I need to hear words and when I need simple quietness.

Keep reading

watermelons have always been a light topic of conversation
if a topic of conversation at all

for example my 9th grade biology teacher
had hated them and it was known as
the forbidden fruit in our class
utter it once
and brace yourself for the theatrical display of
why you nearly moved the earth out of its axis
and how the cycle of evolution is now disturbed

speaking of theatricality
it’s a Turkish tradition to be as dramatic
as possible when buying watermelons

and yes, of course, there is some truth to it
like an urban legend traced back to real ghosts
you’ll become known at the local grocer
for picking out the sweetest, most ripe watermelons

what happens is that
you weigh the watermelon first
eye it, size it, smooth your hand over it
analyze how green it is
and then knock, listen to the sound it makes
follow it with a shake of the head
OR
a nod and an “Ah, yes, this one, I’ll take this one.”

pay the vendor, place the watermelon over your shoulder
carry it through the colorful Sunday bazaar
arrive home
cut it expertly – you’ll have years of practice
and hand a big slice to all three of your kids
smile with satisfaction when they take their first bite
and their forearms are dripping with the juices
of the well-picked fruit

do this
until you can’t.

my grandmother calls me
it’s been 88 days
it’s watermelon season, she says
and i know what she’ll say next
but i still wish she wouldn’t

i tried to buy one she says
didn’t know what i was doing
brought it home but i couldn’t even cut it
so i just sat and cried

and i can imagine it all
she’d have cried from the beginning
she’d have put the damn fruit on the table
picked up a knife but would’ve sat down right after

she never had to do this part
not once for the past 43 years

—  for my grandfather, the watermelon expert // belle
Aftermath

So, I’m not sure where this came from, but have some angst in 250 words that goes from 0 to 10 in two second flat. Your regularly scheduled fluff and smut will return shortly. 

Rated M

“Pregnant?” Cullen echoed her words from a moment before, his voice flat and a dazed look on his face.

Elena nodded, not trusting herself to speak as tears gathered in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” she finally managed to stammer out, bringing her hands to cover her face as tears began to fall.

Carefully, mindful of the swift flinches his touch had met ever since Adamant, Cullen pulled her into his arms, holding her close as sobs began to wrack her body. She buried her face in the fur of his surcoat, cleaving to him, and Cullen didn’t know what else to do except smooth his hands down her back. He felt numb, frozen in place and utterly useless; he had had no idea she had been with child and now–

“I didn’t know,” came her muffled sob. “I didn’t know, I didn’t know. I would have never—”

“Shh,” he hushed, trying to keep his voice steady for her, trying to make sure the tears gathering in his eyes didn’t fall. “It’s not your fault.”

“It was Adamant.” Gasp. “And the rift. My own body and I didn’t know.”

His head was spinning, ears ringing as he felt his knees give out. A child. It was something he hadn’t known he wanted until she said it, until it was too late. They sank to the floor of her chambers and Cullen did his best to hold her to him, even as his tears wet the crown of her head.

“friends locking them in a closet together” OQ prompt

My friend mademoiselle-arel​ dared me to write something with cheesy prompts…

CHALLENGE ACCEPTED BITCH! 

Okay, so it isn’t really following to the letter of ‘friends locking them in a closet together’ but I wanted to keep it canon and didn’t want to write any kind of scenario someone might have written before so… here we go… 

… 

“Well, in the last few days we’ve survived a curse,” 

Was he really so openly hitting on her or was Regina finally going completely insane? 

“-woken up in an entirely new realm,” 

He was so darn attractive, she could not help but smile while hearing him speak, she quickly smoothed her hands about her hair to make sure it was not as crazy as the Wicked Witch. 

“-and forgot a year of our lives,” 

He turned back to face her, he was smirking, damn those endearing dimples

“I’d say we’ve earned it, wouldn’t you?” he extended a glass to her and Regina already had her lips set in the word ‘Yes’ so she could accept the drink and everything that came with it when she saw it

The figure of a lion imprinted in black on his left wrist, a mere mark for anyone whose eyes happened by it, but a frightening symbol to Regina. 

The guy with the lion tattoo, her soulmate. 

A million thoughts raced through Regina’s head in the exact three seconds that she stood looking at the mark on his wrist dumbfounded. 

Fear kicked in, the very same type that made her run away from him all those years ago, and Regina could barely hear his concerned question of, “Is something wrong?” before she began moving. 

However, Regina was only able to take a couple of steps before a sound made her stop dead on her tracks and look ahead. 

Steps. Footsteps coming from outside, she could identify the owner almost immediately for there was a clear limp on the sound. 

Rumpelstiltskin, the most powerful sorcerer she knew, who happened to be at the mercy of the green lady who inhabited the house she happened to have broken into with- 

“Come on-” she heard him half whisper behind her while his fingers encircled her upper-arm and pulled her back towards him. 

Regina was a little too shocked about everything that had just transpired in the last 30 seconds so she followed the man without hesitation. Unfortunately, the thief did not find his way to the back door to the house, but instead, into one of the bedrooms. 

She could hear the door they had walked through minutes ago close and feel the fingers encircling her elbow tighten their hold a little, she could tell he was looking for a way out, but how? The window was far too small and closed, the noise it would make alone in order to get it open would definitely alert Rumple of their presence. And even though Regina had come to terms with the man after Neverland, she did not know what orders Zelena had given him in case he came by any intruders. 

The shock was wearing off and Regina was able to think straight again, although his warm hand touching her clothed skin was giving her the oddest sensation, she needed to focus. 

Not the window. No way were they going to hide under the bed. Behind the curtains sounded too much like when she was playing hide and seek with Henry and purposefully hid somewhere he could find her. The- 

How stupid was she? Of course! Her magic, why hadn’t she thought of that before? 

The man before her had ceased clutching her elbow and was looking about, when Regina did something completely out of character and took his hand – she noticed with a pang of despair that they had both left their gloves in the kitchen – and entwined her fingers in his, giving him a reassuring, “I’ll get us out of here” and concentrated on her magic. 

Nothing happened 

Keep reading

Kind of a part two to http://do-you-think-im-spoopy.tumblr.com/post/121752838512/it-was-saturday-night-in-post-apocalyptic-mystic because a few people requested it.  Set a few months after the first part.  MORE DANCING because you know I cannot get enough of Steroline dancing.  And more listening to records in Stefan’s room because DAMMIT THIS NEEDS TO HAPPEN!  It’s a little different.  Less sexual tension and more straight up romance because I think our babies will be very romantic, knowing both of them.  


Rated M for romantic smuttiness  :P *shrug*



It was during the second verse of We Belong Together by Ritchie Valens when Caroline finally looked up at him.  She’d been glued to his body for who knows how long, swaying to the music from the record player in his room.  No real intention of ever removing herself.  Stefan seemed content enough to just hold her.  Intermittently reaching up to smooth a hand down the back of her dress, to rub his thumb across the back of her exposed neck, his cheek against her temple.  It was warmth and comfort and home.  And it was high time.

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anonymous asked:

"Oh, Ello!" Lucy started as she saw the black haired female. "You must be the other new night guard! I'm Lucy." The English girl held her hand out as she introduced herself. {GingerNightGuard}

“!!” Jolee’s eyes widened as she turned around and looked at Lucy. A chill went up and down her spine. She wasn’t good at socializing. She managed too calm down as she shyly shook her hand slightly, her hand was soft and smooth, yet as cold as ice