patterned-edges

pastelgothiclesbian  asked:

Okay, so can you make a fic where dan is tied town and Phil has a vibrating wand on his cock and dan screaming and writhing around and he finally cums. BUT Phil does not let up and keeps the vibrator and the head of god cock until he is crying from the overstimulation.

Yooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Okay so gUYS I went to the potato bowl it was fuckin lit ++ dirty anons are back on @subbydan-answers for all you sinners ++ I’m doing OCs on my writing tumblr @somanydestiel

Tags: Overstim, Bondage, Edging, dom!Phil, top!Phil, Degradation, Daddy Kink, very rough rough rough play, cumplay if you squint really hard, Aftercare


- Looking back, Dan really shouldn’t have teased Phil and then gone off to touch himself without permission, because he’s now tied tightly to his bed, Phil staring at him with that smirk and his hands behind his back. “Do you know why I’m punishing you, slut?” He asks as he crosses the room and climbs onto the bed above Dan.

- “Yes, Daddy-” Dan’s voice is cut off when Phil slaps him across the face- not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to sting.

- “Naughty whores like you don’t get Daddies.”

- “Yessir, sorry sir,” Dan amends, eyes shut and trying not to focus on his hard on. Knowing Phil, he won’t be cumming for a while yet. Phil kisses Dan softly on the lips before moving to his neck, biting and sucking dark marks into the skin there. It makes Dan wiggle and his eyes glaze over, because his neck has always been pretty sensitive.

- Phil sits back on his haunches, admiring the mess he’s already made of Dan, and then reveals what’s behind his back- a hitachi wand. Just the sight of it makes Dan’s cock twitch because he loves it, loves how good it feels, how quickly it can make him cum. Tonight is going to be hard. “I’m going to edge you once for every hour your slutty little ass teased me today.”

-Nine. Phil is going to edge him nine times. Dan bites his lip when Phil turns on the wand, hips lifting off the bed just at the sound. He whines in the back of his throat when it does touch him, vibrating up and down his length, Phil moving it slowly with a dangerous look on his face. “Feel good?” Dan makes an affirmative humming sound, looking at Phil pleadingly. Already, he’s wrecked, needy, and close. Riling Phil up takes a toll on him too. Right as Dan’s about to come, the ask for permission on the tip of his tongue, Phil pulls the wand away, running it up and down Dan’s ribs instead, brushing it over his nipples once or twice as Dan calms down slightly. “One. Beg me to touch you again, bitch.”

- “Sir, please, please touch me. Please punish me an’ make me yours sir. ‘M sorry I was bad, just please touch me.” For a long moment, Phil keeps mindlessly moving the wand, dragging it over Dan’s inner thighs. Then, out of nowhere, it’s pressed against Dan’s taint and balls, just enough pressure that Dan squirms. Slowly, ever so slowly, he moves it up to the sensitive head of Dan’s cock, holding it there.

- “You’ve had worse,” Phil says with mild disinterest when Dan whimpers. “Be lucky I’m even bothering to touch a disgusting slut like you.” This time, Dan very nearly comes, but it’s taken away from him as the first spurt starts to dribble out of his cock. While Dan ‘cools down,’ if you can even call it that, Phil collects the cum with his fingers and presses them to Dan’s lips to clean. “Don’t get my toy dirty,” he chastises. Just like that, it’s back, and Dan nearly sobs with desperation. The amount of time is even shorter this time, and continues on in much the same pattern until Dan’s been edged eight times.

- Setting down the wand, Phil crawls on top of Dan and balances with his jean-covered thigh pressed between Dan’s legs, one hand balancing himself to the left of Dan’s head, and his right around Dan’s throat, pressing down so that Dan’s breathing gets shallow and his cheeks turn a darker shade of pink. “Rut against my thigh like the pathetic piece of shit you are,” he growls. That’s all Dan needed, and his hips rapidly drive his little cock forward for the painful friction and it feels so fucking good to be beneath Phil like this, surrounded by his scent, tears in the corners of his eyes. Precum smears onto the denim and Dan is about to come, a moan caught in his throat when Phil jumps off of him. No more weight against Dan’s body, no more hand on his throat, no more leg for him to get off on.

- “Sir, I’m sorry I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please let me cum, please! Please, sir, I’ll do anything, please! I’m sorry I won’t be bad ever again I’ll do anything sir please!”

- Instead of answering, he picks back up the vibrator and presses it to the head of Dan’s cock again. “You can cum,” Phil says casually, but what makes Dan hit his high is the way Phil reaches into his pants to start stroking himself, eyes never leaving Dan’s shaking form. But once Dan cums, Phil doesn’t move the vibrator, despite Dan’s protests and attempts to shift his hips away from it. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Phil mocks. “Thought the fucking whore wanted to cum.”

- “I did, I did, thank you so much Master but ‘s too much, stop, too much, no more,” Dan pleads, barely intelligible.

- Phil, the little shit, purposely misinterprets. “What’s that? You want me to make you cum over and over and then fuck you? Beg me.” No, that’s not what Dan wants, but he’s so far into subspace that he immediately starts begging, even though Phil’s already made up his mind. “You have permission to cum as much as you like.” He undresses then reaches for the lube, coats his fingers, and pushes two in at once. Dan’s used to it, and Phil knows how much Dan loves the burn of the sudden stretch. He seeks out Dan’s prostate quickly, and attacks it with his fingers, managing to get Dan to cum three more times (The last two dry) before he’s ready to fuck him, the wand still mercilessly against the head of Dan’s cock. He moves it when he pushes into Dan, and instead uses the hand to choke Dan again.

-”Sir, sir, Daddy, no, please, Daddy, Daddy, Phil too much, no!” Dan all but screams, sobbing, but Phil doesn’t- if Dan really wanted him to stop, he’d safeword. The fifth time Dan cums, he passes out. Phil. Doesn’t. Stop. He keeps fucking, and as he gets close, he takes Dan’s soft cock in his hand and jerks him off in time with it until Dan hits one last high, without even getting hard, moaning in his sleep and arching his back. Phil pulls out and looks at Dan, almost amazed. The boy’s neck is lined with hickeys and fingerprints, his cock and hole red and abused, come dripping out of him and drying on his chest. 

-While Dan’s still out, Phil starts a bath, brings in the wand and some water, and gently wipes the cum off of Dan with a damp warm washcloth. “Dan, sweetheart,” he whispers, shaking Dan’s shoulder. “Wake up, baby. Let Daddy take care of you.” Dan’s eyes blink open, unfocused, and his swollen lips are slightly parted. “Deep breath for me, Dan. Look at me.” It takes a minute, but Dan eventually does. “There you are. You did such a good job for me, baby. My beautiful little boy, doing so well for his Daddy.”

- “’M not pathetic?” Dan asks blearily.

- “Of course not, I love you so much, Dan. Can I pick you up and carry you to the bath?” Dan nods and winds his arms around Phil’s neck, allowing himself to be bridal carried to the bathroom. “What bath bomb, baby?” Dan looks over the basket of them and points to a dark midnight one with gold sparkles in it, marketed as being a lavender scent. Of course he picks the darkest one in there- even as out of it as he is, Dan has standards. Phil sets Dan on the toilet seat and drops in the bomb, waiting for it to fizzle all the way before lifting Dan up again and setting him in the hot water. While Dan relaxes, Phil wipes down the wand, brushes his teeth, and puts on his glasses in lieu of his contacts, occasionally glancing at Dan in the mirror to make sure he’s alright.

- As soon as he’s done, Phil whispers “lean forward” and climbs into the bath behind Dan, so that the younger is between his legs and leaning back against his chest. “Open your mouth.” Dan does, and Phil uncaps the water bottle to hold it to Dan’s lips, slowly getting him to drink the whole bottle. When it’s done and the bath is getting cold, Phil unplugs the drain and gets the warm water running again while he washes Dan’s hair. As he moves on to wash Dan’s body, he accidentally brushes Dan’s sensitive cock, earning the softest mewl of protest Phil’s ever heard, which makes his heart absolutely melt. “Don’t worry, we’re all done. After the bath, let’s go to bed, beautiful.”

- He carefully dries Dan off with a fluffy towel, and carries him back to Phil’s room. Dan’s room is where they scene, and then they sleep in Phil’s clean bed. “I know, I’ll be right back,” Phil says as he puts Dan down, since the boy made a soft sound of dissent. He pulls on a pair of boxers and grabs some clothes for Dan. “Arms up.” The green uni hoodie comes over Dan’s head. “Up for me real quick, baby.” Dan stands up long enough for a pair of boxers and soft pajama pants to be pulled onto him. “There you go. I love you so much, Dan. You did such a good job for me and I’m so proud of you,” Phil assures, kneeling and putting one hand on Dan’s face, thumb smoothing over his cheekbone. “My good little boy.”

- Dan throws his arms around Phil’s neck and cries, while Phil just holds him until it’s out of his system. “My good boy, Dan. You’re so amazing, I love you, you’re my perfect baby.” At that point, Dan pulls away and lets Phil kiss his forehead, then lies back on the bed with a slight shiver. Phil pulls the duvet back and gets both of them under it, then throws an arm over Dan’s waist, holding him close while they fall asleep.


This is 1.7k and thus a fic

-Matt

Send us your sins

Birthday

Terribly sorry I haven’t written something for you guys in a while! Unfortunately, I hit a stump in my life and my motivation to write was a bit…off. But I hope you enjoy this!

Please let me know if there are any grammatical errors so I can fix them and make the story more immersive. I also welcome feeback, opinions, and ideas, so please feel free to message me, send an ask, or send a suggestion! Thank you! (Also, after a few questions, Iuop is not a gem from any TV shows! They are their own species! But I would like to leave their appearance to your imagination!)

Enjoy!

(By the way, their name is pronouced ee-oh-p.)

-

• In all of their years of serving their Perud, their beloved ruler, they would never have thought themselves to be the ambassador, nor to be living on a death-planet with humans. •

The smaller infant male was tugging on Iuop’s hand as soon as they entered the house. It - or, as the humans preferred, “he” - seemed to completely ignore the warning Iuop had given his family (which was to not touch their surface), as well as the report they had written to their superior that they just barely grabbed before it could fall to the ground.

Iuop would have glared if it wasn’t so much of a human thing to do.

• Humans were disgusting, hideous creatures, that would surely become extinct in a few decades. It was absolutely amazing they had any form of advanced science and civilization at all. •

“I have told you not to touch my surface.” Iuop pulled their hand away, in a less rude way so as not to ‘harm’ the human. “What is it you want?”

“We’ve been waiting for you!” He shouted in his small infant voice. Iuop never quite understood why humans could never choose a volume and tone and keep it. “Come on! I wanna blow out my candles.”

In the most dense manner Iuop had ever witnessed, the human replaced it’s small, greasy hand upon their index and ring finger and began dragging them into the room where they ate.

“Waiting? What time-wasting activity do you people want me to-”

Iuop went silent.

• The only good things that came out of humans - well, no one would admit it, but… •

“Ah! There they are!” The adult male, the smaller’s producer, exclaimed in relief.

The room was decorated in colorful papers, some tied together spelling - ah, what was that word? Iuop’s English wasn’t amazing; perhaps ‘happy’ - ‘Happy Boothday’. Attached to the chair the child quickly sat in were two floating circular fabrics. Iuop wondered if the objects floated like the sky machines did.

“What…is this?” Iuop asked slowly, for fear of another daft human answer. They glared into the adult male’s eyes.

He raised one strip of hair above his eye higher than the other - a sign that Iuop couldn’t quite dechiper yet. “It’s a birthday party, of course.” Then, in a lower and heavier tone that startled Iuop, “You…know what a birthday is, don’t you?”

“Ah! I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” The adult female - the child’s other producer, why does it need two? - interrupted Iuop’s reply and dashed into the room, with quivering arms as she carried a large…rectangle. It was covered in a red pattern around the edge, with an image of the child and his animal companion in the center. Atop the image were the words Iuop kept seeing - ‘Happy Boo-’…erm, wait - 'Happy Birthday’.

“Honey, please, you’ll drop the cake.” The adult male chuckled, stepping forward to help the female lower the shape onto the flat wooden surface. The two set it in front of the child, whose eyes sparkled like a freshly cut diamond. He spread his mouth to display his small bones - a motion that, yet again, Iuop did not understand.

'Cake? Birthday?’ Iuop knew that humans were ridiculously confusing, but they’d handled it well thus far. Now they were feeling quite lost.

“Everyone! Cake time!” The female called into the house. Iuop listened in curiousity and fear as voices appeared and footsteps echoed. Suddenly, the small room was filling up with other humans. Iuop had to retreat into the corner to avoid being touched.

Then, the chatter of over a dozen humans was continued- although quieter - as the light in the room clicked off, and after a few intimidating moments, small specks of fire came to life on the rectangle. They illuminated the child’s face, as well as the human faces nearby. The red-orange glow shined weakly on Iuop’s pink surface, turning it a deep shade of orange.

They gazed at their surface in wonder; what a sight! They would have never suspected that light could dye!

“Quite home-y, isn’t it?” Iuop looked up and found themselves next to the adult male of the house. “Fire light is one of the wonders of the world in my opinion.”

“Fire light…you light your objects on fire?” Iuop’s voice was smaller than they wanted it to be.

“Well, yes.” The male watched the child shift in his seat. “Tell me, Iuop, you don’t know what a birthday is, do you?”

“I do not…”

“It’s when we celebrate the day we were born. Not just when humanity was made, no, we don’t know that. The day we as individuals were brought to life.” The tips of his mouth rose slightly, making him look calm and peaceful. “We use these days to signify how long we’ve been alive. They are also tradition, and we give the person gifts and trinkets to celebrate.”

“You…You…celebrate the years you haven’t died in?” Iuop asked in horror. “That’s the most depressing thing I’ve heard about humans.”

The male blinked. Then he laughed - a sound indicating joy. “I guess when you put it like that, it is kind of weird, huh? But that’s not the main reason. I believe the biggest reason for birthdays is to celebrate our own humanity.

“I mean, what’s truly special or important or symbolic about the day you came to life? Perhaps it’s important to yourself, but to others? No one should care. But we do. We congratulate each other on another year of growing, learning, and changing. No one is really the exact same person two years in a row. We all change in some way, and really the ability to adapt and grow is another factor of what makes us all human. So yeah, we like to celebrate another year of being human.”

Iuop couldn’t think of a reply. Their whole perspective had suddenly and irreversibly changed - they wanted to say the room was spinning, but it was instead completely still. They watched in silence as the whole room began giggling and chanting:

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Teddie, happy birthday to you!”

All of the humans started clapping and cheering as the child - Teddie - puffed out a gust of air that doused the fires. There was more happy talking until one of the older children shouted, “What’d ya wish for Teddie?!”

Teddie giggled. “I wished that we could all be together forever!”

Everyone made an expressive noise and murmured, “How cute…” or “Such a sweetheart…” After that, they all collectively turned towards the meal-preparing room, laughing and chatting once again.

Iuop glanced towards the male next to him only to find him following the group. “Wait!” They shouted.

The male turned. “Yes Iuop? What can I do for you?”

“I…” Iuop clenched their hand, then unclenched it. “Would you remind me of your name?”

His eyes twinkled. “It’s Dr. Elliot Allen. But you may call me Elliot, or Eli if you prefer, I don’t mind. My wife’s name is Isla, and our son’s is Teddie. Do you want to meet everyone else in the distant family? They’ve all been talking about you and have wanted to say something, but we asked them not to talk with you for your sake. We can remove that rule if you’d like.”

Iuop took a deep breath, then, with a quick look into the room containing the smiling humans, they found themselves mimicing the male - Elliot’s mouth motion. Somehow it made them happy.

“Yes. I’d be delighted.”

Dr. Elliot repeated the happy motion. “Then follow me.”

The two walked down the hallway for a second in silence until, just before they entered the room, Dr. Elliot asked, “Iuop, may I ask you a personal question?”

“I suppose.”

“What exactly are you made of? I mean, it’s a gem of course, but what kind? Do you know?”

“Oh…I’m made of…ah, in English, I think it’s called 'kunzite’. The people from my sector are all made of pink gems. My generation was all kunzite gems.”

“Your sector?”

“Yes, all of my species is sorted into different sectors on our planet based on what color they are. I am from Sector…oh. Actually, the name doesn’t translate into English at all.”

“Does your planet have a form of leadership? Are certain sectors favored over others?”

“Well, each sector has its best qualites and its worst. My sector is best in…”

For the rest of the evening, though they wanted to meet the other humans, Dr. Elliot and Iuop discussed their planets. And it was some of the most best conversation Iuop had ever been in - completely worth the scolding from their superior after not turning in their report. But it was alright; they had some changes in the opinion of humans to make anyway…

• The best thing to come out of humanity is definitely their capability to share the traits and spirit of being 'human’. It’s what has made them some of the best allies for emotional planets, and it’s what has made them one of the best planets so far discovered. •

The Space-Time Continuum in BBC’s Sherlock Part II: Reflection and Reproduction

So, @tjlcisthenewsexy made some great comments on the original The Space-Time Continnum in BBC’s Sherlock meta and I started to reply, but then I had a big breakthrough and I feel it needs its own post.

The amount of parallels and direct homages to previous episodes in Series Four are more than numerous at this point. There are so many that its almost like they are re-doing entire episodes. Well, they are. The reason and method of which was confounding me for awhile, but I figured out the reason with my original Space-Time meta, and the method I just discovered this morning.

Here is a basic timeline of episodes in BBC’s Sherlock

Now, accounting for what we learned in The Space-Time Continuum Part I meta, here is some additional information:

The glass in TAB serves as a reflection or mirror between Series three and Series Four, which is why the Series MIRROR each other, as in literally mirror. 

EDIT TO ADD: @tjlcisthenewsexy pointed out the awesome phrasing that Molly gives us in HLV during Sherlock’s MP fall after being shot. She wonders if he should go forwards or backwards. This moment could easily be considered a second zero null vector because it is at this point Sherlock decides to start going backwards-towards TRF. Didn’t it seem odd how quickly he forgave Mary and how quickly The Watson’s marriage was back on track? That’s because he started rewinding the state of their relationship to the beginning of that episode!!!

(Interesting Side Note about Peppers Ghost, the parlor trick used in TAB. (Taken from Wikipedia)

The basic trick involves a stage that is specially arranged into two rooms, one that people can see into or the stage as a whole, and a second that is hidden to the side, the “blue room”. A plate of glass (or Plexiglas or plastic film) is placed somewhere in the main room at an angle that reflects the view of the blue room towards the audience. Generally this is arranged with the blue room to one side of the stage, and the plate on the stage rotated around its vertical axis at 45 degrees.[2] Care must be taken to make the glass as invisible as possible, normally hiding the lower edge in patterning on the floor and ensuring lights do not reflect off it.

When the lights are bright in the main room and dark in the blue room, the reflected image cannot be seen. When the lighting in the blue room is increased, often with the main room lights dimming to make the effect more pronounced, the reflection becomes visible and the objects within the blue room seem to appear in thin air. A common variation uses two blue rooms, one behind the glass and one to the side, which can be switched visible or invisible by alternating the lighting. (x)

This would explain Blue light hell @skulls-and-tea!! Every time we see a blue light, what we are witnessing is a reflection of something else from the series!)


So, the three episodes of each series literally reflect each other like this:

So the episode breakdown would look like this:

Do you see how the series are literal reflections of each other? There is of course still parallels to each of the episodes outside of this flow chart (like illusions to Sumatra in TEH and TST), but that can be accounted for by the fact that time isn’t actually linear. While these series reflect eachother as a basic method of understanding, the space of each episode still exists all in one time, so there will still be homages to “other” space-times.

The reflection of the two series explains why The Six thatchers is so similar to His Last Vow, with the guns and the slo-mo gunshot and Mary’s secret assassin storyline and would help a lot of us EMPers who are so attached to HLV being the beginning of EMP realize why we thought this so vehemently after TST. TLD and TSoT are connected by their emotional focus and their progression of John and Sherlock’s relationship. They are also linked by the only two JohnLock hugs in existence. TEH and TFP are very similar in the countdown/bomb motifs, bond-esque baddie plots, A focus on Mycroft and Sherlock’s relationship, and the inclusion of The Holmes parents. 

Now, if you notice, Series Three and Four also has A LOT of parallels to Series Two, but they don’t work as a mirror! Series 3 & 4 are not a reflection of Series 2, but a reproduction of it! If Sherlock is working is way through how to defeat Moriarty at point zero, then he will need to work through all the steps (Absolute Past) that led him to that point- (i.e Series 1 and more specifically, Series 2). So the entirety of Series 3 & 4 is a retelling of Series 2, folded in on itself. Why? Because TIME IS NOT LINEAR! For the visual learners (that’s me) this explanation would look something like this:

Its a circle, folded in on itself. Its literally the space-time continuum come to life!! If we want to break it down episode by episode I made table for that! (I’m really getting a lot of use out of Word today)

This is just a short list off the top of my head, so Im sure there is more- feel free to add on! Like John being kidnapped ASiB, TEH, and TFP!  

As I stated before, there will definitely be parallels within every episode to every other episode because time has folded and twisted in on itself in Sherlock’s mind. Its all existing at once. So the parallels in ASiB to TST or in TRF to TFP, are purposeful and a reminder that time is not linear. 

I hope these charts helped explain the theory a little more!

Tagging some people that I think might enjoy it based on their comments on the first part!

@ebaeschnbliah @isitandwonder @longsnowsmoon5 @loveismyrevolution 

About Daisies and Sunflowers - Ch. 3

A/N: Ahh I’m so excited for this series, and I love that you all enjoy it!! I have an entire outline for how I want this story to go, and I can’t wait to post the rest of this story!! Anyone who isn’t on the taglist, but wants to be can send me an ask or a message and I’ll tag you in the next part!

Pairing: prince!Evan Hansen x fem!reader

Warning(s): nothing really, fluff, really bad flirting??, mild angst at the very end???

Taglist: @pawneeismyhome, @onemorebookidontneed, @smollittlebean, @johns-turtle, @musicalimaginesforyou, @lils-awesome-world, @dehinprettycursive, @dear-enjolras-hansen, @bens-platt

Word count: 1,949

You weren’t expecting Evan to write you so soon, especially not the day after you told him to do so. That’s not to say you weren’t extremely excited when he did write to you quickly. It was a pleasant surprise when your maid brought you the letter at breakfast two days after you walked with Evan in his garden. Your step-father, while a very kind and understanding man, had a ‘no letters’ at the table rule, which meant you had to wait until you were excused from the table to run up to your room and read what the wonderful boy had written.

By the time you were allowed to leave breakfast, you were beyond impatient. Sitting on your bed, you opened the letter as quickly as you could, knicking your pointer finger in the process. You yelped and sucked on the cut as you read the letter.

You didn’t think the blue-eyed prince could get anymore adorable, but you were proven wrong. You couldn’t help but blush as you read the words he had written you, flattered that he would want to see you again. You were already enchanted with the boy, but the moment he compared you to his favorite flower, you completely swooned. You had never felt attraction to anyone this strongly or this quickly.

You rushed over to your desk and sat down, grabbing a piece of the pretty floral stationery your mother had given you for your most recent birthday. You had never had a reason to use it before, but now that you did, you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh at the pattern around the edges. Flower paper for a flower boy. You grinned despite yourself and began writing your letter.

Dear Evan,

You don’t have to be formal with me at all. I only earned the title ‘princess’ pretty recently, so it’s refreshing to have someone refer to me as a friend. You mentioned feeling quite similar the other night in your garden, I believe.

I have to admit, I was so excited about receiving your letter that I gave myself a papercut in my haste to open it. Feel free to tease me about this, if you would like; it was a bit silly of me. If I were to say this was the first time I’ve done something clumsy like that, I would be lying. I may have the title of royalty, but all the grace that is supposed to come with being a princess seems to have evaded me completely.

I’m flattered that I remind you of your favorite flower, I didn’t find it to be weird at all. If anything, you too remind me of my favorite flower as well- sunflowers. There’s just something warm and bright that accompanies both you and sunflowers, something about the both of you that make me feel comfortable. I must ask you, though: why exactly do I remind you of a daisy?

Speaking of your garden, I would absolutely love to come see the addition of the poppies! I’m sure they’re absolutely beautiful! My mother, stepfather, and I are leaving for Irvingdale in a few days, and the Rose Palace is on the way, I’m sure I could convince my parents to allow me to visit with you for a few hours, if you wouldn’t mind.

You smiled down at your words. While you were pretty forward and open with the way you felt towards Evan, you weren’t quite sure if the timid boy could handle outright flirtatiousness, so you watered down your words, mixing the words of affection in with the feeling of being friends.

Despite our brief time together, I find myself missing you more than I thought I would. Since my mother and I moved into the palace, I’d yet to have a conversation in which I wasn’t constantly worrying about the right thing to say or the proper way to it. Walking with you in your garden that night was the most comfortable I’ve been in a long time, Evan. Thank you for that.

Until we meet again,

(Y/N)

You reread your letter and decided it was good enough to send. You slipped it into an envelope and sealed it, before writing Evan’s name in careful handwriting. Now all there was left to do was send it. You found the palace messenger, Addison, thankfully just before she left. Before she left, she glanced at the name the letter was addressed to and gave you a big grin. “Prince Hansen? You two are on a first name basis?” She asked in a playful tone. You blushed and rolled your eyes. “He doesn’t act like other people do, Ads, he treats me like I’m still just a normal person, and that he’s a normal person, and that he and I can be normal together! It’s… It’s hard to explain, really,” you said, smiling softly. “I’ve had the honor of meeting him a couple times. He’s very nice, always very polite and kind to me and the other servants. You could definitely do worse, my lady.” And with that, she left the palace to deliver the letters she was due to deliver.

Later that night, your mother visited you. “So, (Y/N), you seem particularly cheerful today,” she commented. You just hummed in agreement, not looking up from the book you were reading. “It wouldn’t happen to be because of that letter you received this morning would it?” You glanced up to see a small smirk on her face. “You know, I asked Addison who the letter was from; you should have told me that Prince Hansen was courting you!” She said. Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. “No! He isn’t courting me! We’re merely writing to each other as friends!” You corrected her quickly, trying to ignore the blood rushing to your cheeks. “Oh really? That’s all it is?” She gave you a skeptical look, but you nodded insistently. “Really!” You sighed in relief when she gave in. She kissed your forehead and bid you goodnight, before leaving you with your thoughts.

Two days later,, you found yourself impatient and on edge. “Is everything alright, my lady?” Your tutor asked you. You merely nodded, watching out the window expectantly. What you were waiting for? You weren’t quite sure. “Addison won’t be back from collecting the letters for the palace until later this evening, if that’s what you’re concerned about.” Your head whipped around to look at her.

“Excuse me?” You asked, though not unkindly.

“Well, forgive me if it’s not my place, my lady, but the servants from Rose Palace and the servants here do talk to each other every now and again, and rumor has it that you and Prince Hansen are currently corresponding with each other.”

You sighed and bit your bottom lip in thought, before saying softly. “I mean this in the nicest way possible: please stay out of my private life. I don’t need the entire kingdom gossiping about the people I choose to write letters to. Alright?” She nodded furiously, apologizing to you. “You don’t have to be sorry, I would just prefer not to be the subject of the town gossip.” She nodded once more in understanding and the two of you continued with your arithmetic lesson.

When Addison finally arrived at the palace, you all but tackled her. “Istherealetterforme?” You asked. She blinked in confusion. “Miss, I’m going to have to ask you to repeat that a bit slower for me,” she said. You took a deep breath and repeated yourself. She gave you a knowing smirk and handed you a letter, addressed to you in cute, messy handwriting. The same handwriting from the letter you had practically memorized by now. You found the ways he dotted his eyes with a little circle to be adorable. You quickly took and ran to your room. “Thank you, Addison!” You called behind you. The messenger simply shook her head at your retreating figure. “She is definitely attracted to him.”

Once safely tuck away in the window seat in your bedroom, you began to read the letter by the light of the sunset. It was just as precious as his previous letter, but one particular part caught your eye.

As for why I compared you to a daisy? Well, all the same traits a daisy possesses that makes it my favorite flower, you too possess. For starters, they’re very pretty, and well, you are too. They remind me of spring, and make me think of warm and happy thoughts and weather. Also, there’s more to them than meets the eye. You look at them and think, ‘there is one flower there’, but in reality, there’s actually two! The petals and the center of the flower are counted separately as their own individual flowers. I feel like you’re kind of like that as well, there’s more to you than people can actually see.

People see you as a princess, but I know that as well as being a princess, you’re also a girl who would comfort a total stranger in need, the kind of girl who once got in trouble (and a serious cold) from playing in the rain, even after your mother told you not to. You’re the kind of girl who likes sunflowers and sunsets, and you’re the kind of girl who would treat a boy you hardly know as a friend. You’re the kind of girl I enjoy spending time with, something that’s rare for me. You see, I’m not exactly comfortable around people, I often find it hard to connect and interact with them, but with you? With you, there was none of that discomfort. I felt at ease when I was around you, like I didn’t have to worry about what I was saying, like you would care about my words no matter what I said. Am I wrong to think that? Am I being too presumptuous?

His words, along with the fact that he had remembered the things you had told him about yourself, touched you. You never thought anyone would ever see you in the light he saw you. Any last bit of doubt you had regarding your feelings for Evan flew out the window. You knew, you were deeply, irrevocably, and helplessly in love with the flower-loving prince. A part of you wanted to run from this unfamiliar feeling, but a large part of you was filled with glee, knowing you had found a person you could see yourself spending the rest of your life with. You had  You reread his words over and over again, eventually falling asleep in your window seat, which the last bit of sunlight streaming in.

Your mother found you later that night as she came in to say goodnight, curled up against the window and clutching the letter to your chest, the faintest of smile upon your face. She knew who the letter was from, and she couldn’t help but smile at the thought of her little girl falling in love. She knew the Hansens, and she found them to be wonderful, kind people. The smile was wiped off her face when she remembered what she and your stepfather had yet to tell you, the reason you were travelling to Irvingdale soon. Frowning, she blew out your candle and exited the room. Best to let her have this while she can, she thought. She had never wanted this to happen. She was hoping that you would never fall in love for fear that this very situation would present itself. Now here you were, in love, and she could do nothing to stop what was about to occur.

Monster Bio: Mako


Name: Mako

Age: 34

Hometown: Unknown

Current Residence: Maine

Occupation: pearl harvester, hunter

Talents/Skills: extremely strong, fast swimmer, good sense of humor, extremely knowledgeable in geography, a proficient lover

Relationship skills: protective and loyal, isn’t happy unless his mate is happy,

Family: ???

Significant Other: Rosa Celestino

Height: 9’4

Weight: 1500 lbs

Species: Shark

Eye Color: Black

Hair Color: None

Glasses or contact lenses? none

Skin color: Gray blue and white

Shape of Face: point and long

Distinguishing features: large fin that goes fromthe back of his head and down his back, he’s massive, thick arms and legs, very muscular, soft eyes

How does he/she dress? Doesn’t wear cloths

Mannerisms: strong and cocky, always sure of himself

Habits: (smoking, drinking etc.) eat anything he can get his hands on

Health: due to a previous injury, his left side is always tender

Hobbies: hunting, playing video games, having sex

Favorite Sayings: ‘I’m bigger’

Speech patterns: rough around the edges, lots of laughing, cusses often

Disabilities: none

Style (Elegant, shabby etc.): raw meat?

Greatest flaw: Arrogant

Best quality: Protective and loyal

Enjoying a solitary life, he’s traveled all over the world, hunting and enjoying himself. He finds a town in Maine and sees Rosa, it’s love at first sight. He stalks the town and soon rumors spread of a monster. After getting into a fight with another shark man he goes into Rosa’s boat to escape. After their initial meeting he mates with her and the two become a couple. He becomes devoted to her, falling deeper in love every day. Willing to do anything for Rosa, he starts working with her and helping her harvest pearls. They two decide to buy a boat so they can sail around the world and so he can introduce her to his family.

3

Ta-Dah!

So, there is a lot going on in this painting, so if you’re not interested in the symbolism and stuff then feel free to scroll right past this, because I’m about to talk a lot about the imagery and the decision process that went into it.

Let’s start with Zeus Himself. A lot of people portray Zeus as almost elderly, and I didn’t want to do that for a couple reasons. Firstly, He’s a father figure, and so when I envision Him I tend to see someone who’s about in his forties–not old enough that you see him and think of a grandfather, but not so young that you would be surprised to learn he has grown children. Secondly, the Theoi are ageless and powerful, so I wanted to paint a man who looked that way to me. Finally, Zeus is the youngest of His siblings, and the idea of painting Him as a grey haired, wrinkled man just didn’t seem appropriate to me here.

Now, let’s talk about the half-wreath below Zeus’ portrait. The wreath is made of olive branches, olives, and oak leaves. Olives and oaks are both sacred to Zeus, and I wanted to include them in the image. In classical art He would typically be crowned in olive leaves, but I opted away from including a crown. I still had wanted to make a reference back to His crown though by including the olive plant in the painting. The oak leaves are a direct reference to His oracles at Dodona, who interpreted Zeus’ will through the rustling of oak leaves.

The pillars are there to represent gateways. The gateway to Olympus, the entry way into temples, and metaphorical gateways as well. Specifically in this image, I was using the two columns to represent the personal gateway for me when I fully embraced my worship of the the Theoi.

The eagle is a pretty standard attribute of Zeus. In classical art He’s often shown with an eagle, and His temples and statues would sometimes be adorned with images of eagles. I wanted to include the eagle as a simple nod to His classical imagery, and as a nice visual way of reflecting the wreath below.

The storm behind Zeus was done to include His lightening bolt.

The lit brazier is in reference to an offering fire.

And fun fact, the pattern on the edge of His chiton is patterned after a border pattern from an ancient Greek mosaic.

rainbow valley

Summary: “As I’ve made very clear, Detective,” says Treville, strained, “I don’t make it a habit of getting involved in my employees’ love lives. But considering this precinct’s utterly abysmal and somewhat dangerous track record, you really cannot fault me for being concerned when you walk into work with a split lip that was not present the night prior.”

“Track record?” asks Constance weakly, and God, this really has just been the weirdest conversation.

“Athos’s wife is a wanted criminal in twenty-two states who only last week evaded arrest yet again, d’Artagnan’s spent the better part of the past year pining after you, and Aramis has gone and fallen in love with the very married wife of a European nobleman who has somehow gotten himself accidentally involved with the Spanish mob!” 

“At least Porthos is doing alright,” offers Constance lamely. 

“Yes,” says Treville, looking harried. “There is that.”

I wrote a shameless fic for @hansolosbutt‘s modern detective b99 au about the circumstances surrounding the day after constance leaves bonaciuex, which we decided were basically exactly like that one post where that personal trainer’s students all commiserated and went together without telling her to retrieve her things from her asshole ex boyfriends house. a good post, friends. a very good post. also, constance’s last name is baudin bc fleur, her niece (?) had that last name and i needed a maiden name for her. also also, trigger warnings for very brief mention of domestic violence. anyways, here’s this thing. this truly is like … my favorite au on the planet, right now,

Constance has always thought that Captain Treville’s office is somewhat spartan in decor. The desk is almost always immaculately clean, the commendations on the wall completely aligned and straight in their frames, and the clock above the doorway minimalist on charitable days. Aside from the small rainbow flag sitting among his pencils (all perfectly sharpened, all neatly arranged), fitted into his favorite fleur-de-lis-patterned mug at the edge of the desk, there really isn’t anything in the office that makes it particularly warm or welcoming or personable. Constance remembers only a few months before when the poor guy Deputy Commissioner Richelieu had sent down from human resources came to discuss Porthos and Aramis’s (convoluted, nonsensical, wildly work-inappropriate) email chain; he had entered Treville’s office looking apprehensive and left looking somewhat concerned. Constance, who had been privy to The Email Chain only once over Aramis’s shoulder, knew that it had somehow devolved from its benign origins of subject line: check out this guy’s suspicious-looking mustache to classic French literature-related memes. Quite frankly, unless one was particularly well-versed in the minds of Detectives d’Herblay and du Vallon, any poor fool tasked with reading through such an atrocity would likely as not emerge somewhat traumatized.

Joubert’s apprehension, however, had been surprisingly directed towards Treville himself; he had meekly suggested on his way out of the captain’s office, fiddling nervously with the bottom of his tie, that maybe he might consider putting a couch with earth-toned upholstery in the corner, just to make the place feel more welcoming?

Trevill had blinked at him, uncomprehending.

Aramis, who’d been trying to distract Athos from where he had his nose buried in case files by flinging paperclips at him across the room, had said, “Flower-patterned would make it even more welcoming, don’t you think Captain?”

Porthos had choked on his own laugh. Athos, engrossed in his case files, had tried to drink out of the communal bullpen pushpin mug and started spluttering in a most undignified manner.

D’Artagnan, bless him, had been the one to finally take pity on the aggrieved Joubert, leading him out of the bullpen and straight into the elevator with a comforting pat on his shoulder and a cheerful, “Come again soon!”

Constance remains standing in front of Treville’s desk, now, noticing that he never did take Joubert’s advice into consideration and get an earth-toned couch installed in the corner.

(There is, however, a small framed photo of the squad from last year’s Christmas party, the lot of them grinning like doofuses at the camera and more than one of them with their eyes half closed, perched neatly on the far right of Treville’s computer, and Constance feels a trickle of warmth expand in her chest despite everything.)

The door to the office clicks shut behind them and Treville comes to stand behind his desk in front of Constance, looking uncharacteristically apprehensive.

Keep reading

Tea Time

Sherlock’s busy. Sitting in his leather chair near the fireplace, he’s texting furiously with Lestrade (Will the idiots on that forensic team ever learn? Nope. Apparently not today.). 

Rosie sits to his left at a tiny toddler-size table on a little matching stool. It’s round and painted lavender, a delicate hand drawn vine pattern circling the edge and trailing down the table’s legs. She’s playing with a miniature tea set- a gift from Mrs. Hudson- pretending to pour out tea and stir in sugar and milk with a silver baby spoon.

“Tea, Papa?” Rosie’s chubby hand offers a small porcelain cup of imaginary Earl Grey to Sherlock. 

He doesn’t stop texting, never looks away from the screen, simply shifts to using his right hand only and allows his left arm to fall to the side, low enough for her to place the petite teacup into his large hand. It moves automatically to his lips and he takes a sip before he fully realizes it’s only filled with make-believe tea. His eyes widen in surprise. (Sherlock’s body is, after all, hard-wired to accept tea from a Watson at this point.)

He looks down at Rosie, who meets his gaze expectantly, eyebrows raised. “Papa like tea?” she asks. 

Sherlock only hesitates for a moment before saying, “Mmm. Yes, love. I think your tea may be the best I’ve had.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “But don’t tell Daddy.”

Rosie nods solemnly, her daddy’s tea making prowess already well known. She goes back to filling and refilling cups with the play teapot, babbling “tea, tea, tea” happily.

Sherlock “drinks” cup after cup, eventually solving Lestrade’s case after a couple of shoddy screen-caps make it clear it wasn’t even a murder in the first place. Dull. 

It was a normal afternoon for Rosie in 221B. A perfect day for tea time with her Papa.

{ fluffmas prompts //#24 with poly!hamilsquad x reader }

{ requested by a sweet anon. hope you like it! <3 xx there was a separate request for a nsfw version that i’ll try to have up soon as well. }

24 - wearing stockings

slightly nsfw?? more suggestive. the boys get a little handsy,,,but you look so good in your little outfit! they really can’t help it…


You had a Christmas party starting any minute now. You’d been planning this for a while with your boys. Christmas parties always made you so excited for the upcoming season. You had all of your gifts ready to present, an outfit picked out, and were practically counting down the days. It was at your brand new place that you had gotten with your boyfriends. You and Laf decorated the house this morning while Herc got Alex and John to help him bake and prepare the food. 

You had about 45 minutes until your guests started coming in. While you were excited for what was in store, you still felt like you were going to throw up. 

Keep reading

Flying high - The teaspoon girl pt 7

A witch turns Y/N into a teaspoon sized woman, and Sam and Dean has to make sure she doesn’t get squashed – and find a cure.

Word count: 3340

I’m sorry this part has taken so long. Unforeseen stuff happened (1,5 weeks in hospital among other things), but hopefully you’ll forgive me the delay.

This is the last part of this series. Hope you have enjoyed it. If you have, please let me know: I love hearing from you guys. Also let me know if you want on – or off – my tag list.

From part six:

“It’s too heavy. You won’t be able to carry it back to the window.”

She thought for a bit, then tugged on the string in the hood. “Tie this around me. That way you can pull me back.”

“That’s… actually a great idea,” Sam agreed, offering his thumb up for a high five. “You’re a genius!”

She blushed, but puffed up, taking every bit of praise from Sam to heart, feeling bigger than she had in ages.


They needed two attempts before the folder cooperated, but finally Y/N managed to get a good enough grip on the slippery paper, clinging to it with both arms and feet as Sam pulled her back to the window.

As Dean flipped through the information, tutting and shaking his head, Sam lifted Y/N up so she was level with his face. “Seriously,” he said with an adorable smile, “we couldn’t have done this without you.” He leaned forward and touched his nose to her head. “This will give us just enough time to get everything done before we have to hide again.”

Keep reading

Can we appreciate the absolute perfection that is this quote from Clockwork Angel:

“The red Marks stood out like fire on his pale skin, making her think of the patterns that traced the edges of the Silent Brothers’ robes.”

Like goddamn that foreshadowing Cassie knows her shit.

Roads AU

A/N: idk guys…I’m so late, but just tryna support the movement 

:: The route home is a fickle for this Uchiha… ::


Pathetic. 

The only appropriate term that came to Sasuke’s mind thinking about this abominable and rather sudden revelation. He rolled his jaw around sucking on the sides his cheek gums. It was leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. It seemed his impenetrable fortress was…compromised. 

 He’d been back in the village not a semi-year, and somehow he had already managed to make a mess of things.

 I should’ve stayed in Kirigakure. A very small voice clambered in resistance.

He holds a rice ball to his face scrutinizing it and its creator. Despite his severity, his stomach recognizes the aroma after strenuous training and roars for its entry. He releases a defeated sigh. The sourness subsides, and is replaced by the delicacy of the cuisine. He savors the flavor with begrudged and unwilling enthusiasm. They were delicious, better than the demonically solidified and zest lacking version of his own creation.

He exhales, eating until none of the dish remains, and crumbles the wrap in his hand. 

The Hyuga? Really? 

Sasuke, acute of all physical threats and endeavors, was blindsided by something beyond the physical plane, something immeasurable and inapplicable to any equation. He had listened to that optimistic orange of a hokage-”this is your home too.”, he said, “we’re over that-don’t worry about it.” he said, and allowed himself to feel comfortable, let his guard down, and now…now he was suffering the consequences.

The Uchiha grits his teeth. It’s true, he’d been met with minimal animosity from the villagers, but that was presumably because he was...who he was, and any villager with a pea brain could understand how certain behaviors might turn out against the last surviving Uchiha. 

What Sasuke hadn’t expected was the opposite end of the spectrum. 

Warmth. Compassion. Concern. Empathy.

Naruto hadn’t warned Sasuke about these things, and what it would do to him. These…these agents of manipulation and seduction. That’s what they were. He’d fallen victim to these weapons by realizing this unfamiliar sense of longing and dependency. He’d tasted them with his final fight with Naruto, but they were fully recognized and awakened by her.

To date, the only thing Sasuke, holder of the rinnegan and owner of prowess rivaling that of the hokage, thought was something worth avoiding for his well-being was her. Though her composition was of everything gentle and secure in the world. She was stable, consistent, yet sensitive to uniqueness of others around her. 

To him.

She was dangerous. In a way that didn’t involve bloodshed either. She made him want her concern. Yearn for it even. To be cared for by her was to be on the glaring side of a silver lining after clouds began to dissipate. Yet she did it so effortlessly. She didn’t need try, didn’t think because such was her nature to do what she did. 

Though even worse than his desire to be cared for by her was his curiosity to be loved by her. He smirks knowingly at the thought. Not just because he sounded like a romantic idiot, but because it was a lie of course-that which he called curiosity. On the surface of his consciousness he treated it as if an innocent question, like he just wanted to know for cognition’s sake, to evaluate the limitations of her authenticity, but in the elemental constitutes of his mind he knew damn well what it would entitle. To be loved by her, he knew, would be nothing shy of a celestial experience. 

A culmination of everything he’d abandoned and that which abandoned him during his time in the village, and following that was presented to him in this…pale eyed, delicate, mediocre kunoichi.

Their first encounter after the war had been during his awkward reintegration into the group with group gatherings with the rest of Konoha 11 once he returned. Naruto’s idea, of course. It was during the commotion of it all-the dog’s barking with dobe, with his supposed look alike instigating the mess with Bug Boy adding in his two cents, Incredulous Eyebrows with the superb kick succumbing to the effects of the sake and Double Buns trying to suppress his resulting obnoxiousness, the other blond and Sakura bickering over God knows what, Nara knocked out on the table, the “husky” one chowing down on what was left while everyone was distracted-that he prepared to drink his silent annoyance away.

And he almost had. 

He thanked the any holy presence above he hadn’t. For, he might’ve missed the angelic tune of her laugh. Or, what he currently, perceived to be angelic. Contrastingly, at the time, he’d looked over-watching as she leaned slightly forward midnight blue hair mirroring her actions, each strand like silver thread as it fell over her shoulder, then her womanly and surprisingly soft looking hand covered the bottom of her widened lips, her pearl white teeth gleaming, faint lavender eyes askew with glee-and then scoffed, taking a swing of sake anyway.

She was doing the exact same thing as him. Taking in the whole ordeal, but viewing it as something of a merriment.

What a child.

He left, and didn’t think much of her afterward. 

That conveninent way of thinking didn’t last much longer thereafter. The seed had been planted, and began to bloom with their proximity, and proneness to seeing each other. The Hyuga and Uchiha compounds were located along the same isolated road after all.

 A road for sure, not a street. 

Streets are busy, containing commerce and distractions and bustling peoples. Roads are less purposeful but more singular, specified, less crowded, and…more intimate, if given the chance. 

Most especially this road, the one that stretched for miles upon miles transversing the village and parted away from the bustling village affairs and market place until all that could be heard was the faint whisper of life carrying in the wind. Designed to walk a subject right to one of the noble clans of the Leaf. The Hyuga used to live the farthest out where the only premise for loud noises would be nature taking its course in the distant forest, but then came the Uchiha conflict, and soon, the Hyuga were no longer alone in their isolation from the city center being later accompanied by their Uchiha counterparts. Neighbors, the two once were.

The first time they bumped into each other on this road, it was nighttime. They’d stood, standing and staring at each other, rather surprised or unprepared rather to see the other. Hinata hadn’t seen a non-Hyuga so far reaching of the village on this road in so long, she’d simply forgotten it wasn’t always hers. Sasuke was unpleasantly confused why she was still following him. It’d been some distance ago since he’d noticed her presence, and he had no problem at first, but forty minutes in, and she was still behind him, nervously behind him from the feel of her riddling chakra. It had become vexing-how anxious she was.

In the end, he maintained his silent suffering, remaining an approximate twenty paces ahead of her and completely opposite her side of the road.

Yet soon came dawn the next day when he left to train, and who was exiting the gate just as he was walking by? They did it again-stopping and staring.She was wearing some training gear, and her hair was tied away from her reddening face, and Sasuke couldn’t come up with a reason as to why he was still looking at her other than she was the only thing to look at. Hinata had acted first, silently nodding and proceeding on her way.

Sasuke had waited for her to increase some distance between them before following. Night came, and he heard her, following slowly behind him. He was so very aware of her presence even though her steps were cat-like, and he could not see her.

Again came dawn, and Sasuke walked along that white line that edged out the sides of the pavement, carefully focusing on keeping one foot perfectly in front of the other. He heard metal grinding, and then short footsteps, and his concentration wavered. 

he looked up, not surprised to see pale eyes examining him from across the wide sea of concrete. She looked him up and down, shamelessly and acutely. The girl seemed to come to some sort of conclusion, and closed the gate behind her.

“Humans…are a species of habit, I suppose.”

She was…weird,

in a strange sort of bland way.

He came to the conclusion that his mornings were his and his alone-not to be shared with by some run of the mill shinobi with weak mannerisms. 

It was about an hour and a half earlier than usual the next morning-The sky was still shy any semblance of a sunrise, and he passed the Hyuga estate without interruption or interference. Thankful, his focus could again be steadied back to the line which guided into him into town, but he paused hearing her, sensing her, all at the same time like a rush of waves. 

Only, he heard those feet again from in front of him, not behind. In no time she appeared walking along the opposite side of the road, the other edge of the shore, glistening with sweat and clothes soiled with dirt. Her hair was disheveled and skin oddly blemished with bruises. 

She looked a mess.

Sasuke couldn’t name why, but he’d stopped in his tracks. So she had already finished her training by the time Sasuke was on his way to do just that. Some part of him felt bested; she took it a step further than he did.

Though eventually, the two returned to their normal routine.

And as time grew, a strange pattern occurred.

Sasuke’s edge of the road seemed to travel further and further from him each day. The line he would walk along stretched away from with every passing dawn. The concrete had engulfed him, and the shade of the wall separating the vegetation from the residency, abandoned him altogether. Yet on the other side of this occurrence was how close she felt these days. Physically, emotionally.

And one stormy night, their ambiguous relationship was sealed.

It was pouring harder than it had in quite awhile around that time in Konoha. Sasuke was walking full steam ahead in his shorts and sandals trying to ignore the numbing cold in his phalanges. He should’ve left the field when his mind first thought it; though could he predict it would rain this heavily?

Up ahead was deep waters. The road took a very small dip, but that was enough for mounds of water to hold place there. He could easily get out of this rut if him using his chakra in the village at an informal hour wouldn’t alarm every shinobi of high rank and guide them to his exact location. He growled under his breath, cold water making him the crankier. It was another thirty minutes to his house from here.

“Uchi-Uchiha-san.” He heard a voice-her voice-through the drumming of the water. She stuttered hesitant at first, and all at once came her confidence. He turned, and she was closer than he imagined, and her gate was left wide open and lights turned on. He looked at her, water dripping down her pale skin, midnight blue hair sticking to her forehead, eyes fluttering against the force of the droplets- and yet he could see the intention-no, resolve, written all over her face. Her lips were pulled tightly in a thin line, her eyebrows slightly furrowed, eyes locked on his for longer than a moment for the first time. She thought about this situation and how it might go down, but vowed that the outcome would be all the same. Sasuke examined her with skepticism, though weak, skepticism. He really was cold.

“I’m not taking no for an answer,” She’d continued. 

And Sasuke believed her, and so he found himself in lavender smelling towel, a tatami mat much comfier than those of his own home, drinking plush lavender tea, feet resting against wooden floor. He would regret this when he awoke the next day, but right then, he was content to be out of the storm.

She had sat across from him, making sure he was comfortable. In her dry simple civilian clothes Sasuke couldn’t think her more quaint, simple, and odd. She sat there, picking flower after flower to press them, only speaking if to ask if needed anything. She reminded him of an old lady-so quiet and easily entertained when she was so young. 

Yet, be it the relief from getting out of the cold storm, the aroma of some faint blend of heaven that wrapped him so tenderly that reminded him of her, or the image of her serenity accompanied by some graceful tune of her hum, he couldn’t be more entranced with her.

The feeling didn’t wear off. The things he criticized her of-being bland, plain, they weren’t really wrong descriptions as he learned. He was not impressed with her, just as he expected considering it was a feeling limited to fewer than the limbs that remained on his half-armless body. 

With that being said, there was no flashy pearl smile that made his heart stop-just an evident wide tug of her lips that didn’t last so long, but made him want to see it again. There was no up-do, yukata, or jewelry that made him double-take. She was consistent in her subtle beauty. 

This barely visible human being. 

It was in her quiet simplicity that Sasuke never stood a chance. This undemanding existence of hers-relax and tranquil, drawing him in like the tides to the moon. It’s what beckoned him to her side of the shore. It’s what made him walk slower in the mornings when he neared her house, and soon made him wait altogether. It’s what made him brush his shoulder brush over hers as they walked in stride together, made his arm fall strategically next to hers so he could satisfy this curiosity-this question of just how far she would let him go.

Soon, even lazy mornings turned to aimless walks. His hand in contrition with a calloused pale yet gentle one. 

And Sasuke hadn’t realized how deep in he was, until on another of those quiet lazy mornings, she walked past her home to walk with him to his. Sasuke’s home. His most private space, and he’d ultimately asked her to invade it. She made the atmosphere softer, brighter even…

Were they dating?

Sasuke could only assume yes at that point, but he’d never made a real move until he invited her over. Never specified his feelings either, but surely, she must know. She’s different from the others. 

And so Sasuke assumed she did. They didn’t talk much anyway.

But just to be sure, he kissed her. Light on the lips, but hand guiding her jaw. She held onto him too.

She was getting ready to leave, and there seemed to be no words which could encompass the feeling “I want to see you everyday” and emotions like gratitude, devotion and some other feeling bubbling in the base of his stomach.

And it was like that, Sasuke found himself enamored with the Hyuga girl that lived up the road. Even now, he rushed to finish his onigri so he might catch her after her late night errands on that damned road.

What were once heavy expectant silences s in the beginning became comforting and endearing quietness. In more ways than one, the distance between the two became less apparent before he knew it. It was everything he didn’t know he needed-

Their time on that road together.


anonymous asked:

You talked a lot about the Blackfire and Darksister swords recently. I asked in the past what was the difference between the two, what type of sword each one was, but it wasnt answered. Could you talk about that?

Blackfyre was a hand-and-a-half sword, about six inches longer than the standard Westerosi arming sword. Double-edged, cruciform pattern, like most Westerosi swords. Longclaw and Blackfyre are probably very similar in dimensions.

Dark Sister was “made for a woman’s smaller hand,” and is listed as a “longsword,” though that probably means an arming sword, given that the popular conception of the name longsword is a long one-handed sword, not a two-handed sword (I blame Dungeons and Dragons). The blade is also remarked as slender, though it is still a dual-edged cruciform blade, though it is probably a smidge shorter and noticeably thinner.

Thanks for the question, Anon.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

He left. He cried. - Carl Grimes Imagine AU

The sun had fallen asleep. The last rays dissolved into a thick blanket of black, spreading from the skyline and making stars glint. It was a peaceful time in the small town, a calm and still night. Everyone waited with clenched hearts for the train to arrive at the station. A train which would take away loved ones, and make souls suffer with bitterness and smeared tears.

She stared intently as he was making his dell suitcase. Pairs of trousers, six clean T-shirts and a coat were crammed within the space of the gaping bag. He could feel her acid eyes, tearing the skin of his back apart as she looked with wonder. He said nothing. He pulled the zip of his suitcase, neatly closing the patterned edges. She could feel her eyes begging to ache and her nostrils flare. The clamp of her throat was evident, pushing out her nude collarbones and raising her back from the stained wallpaper. He really was leaving. But how could he? How could he leave and forget about her, as if nothing never happened? Indeed, he could.

“You really are leaving.” She voiced steadily, forcing down her shaky breaths. She closed her eyes, swallowing back the emotion trying to spill from within them. “I never thought you would.”

Carl turned his head, his rosy lips parted as he took in her form. He looked at her. She was standing right there, as brave and strong as ever. He tried to speak, words were not an option. He could hear her warm voice smoothly echo against his ears again.

“I understand. It is your dream, after all.” She forced a smile, devouring her distress. “That’s why I won’t stop you. If it means you are happy out there, then so be it. Even if it means I won’t see you again, I won’t keep you back.”

The young man gave a look, one of confused desperation. The corners of his lips descended, and so did his heart. Did she really not mind? I didn’t seem to be it at all. She was sad, there was no doubt. Carl could feel her heart, beating within his own veins.

“..Y/n.”

“You want to leave,” She continued, passionlessly glaring at her shoes. “Then leave. I’m not gonna stop you. I’m not gonna hold you back from your dream. I’m not going to cling on you and cry for you to stay. I’m not going to call you selfish because you wish to go away. Nor am I going to call you ungrateful, because you’re just leaving, after all we’ve been through. After all we have seen together. I won’t. Because I am your friend.” Y/n gave a little smile, the water now quivering within her squinted eyes. She held herself back from lunging forward, and engulfing him in a shaky embrace. Her innards were contorting painfully, her body drowning within her feelings.

“Aren’t we supposed to let go of the things we love?” Her voice was a pained whisper, breaking just like her confident smile. Her heart feebly protested, hollering wildly, begging her to keep him close. Pleading to fold her arms around him and swathe him within her hold, until she gave her last breath. “And that’s what I’m going to do.”

Carl stared quietly, his brows furrowed over his intense gaze. He glanced down and hesitated. He wanted to hold her hands. Feel the rough skin of her digits, the gentle touch of the tips of her fingers. Feel her lips on his skin, guiding him, teaching him in the ways of love. Oh, how lovely would it be to graze every scar on her flesh. To kiss and fondle each and every one of them.

Y/n’s eyes flinched once they locked with the clock’s hands. He had to leave so soon. Would this be the last time she looked at him? The final time she would hear his voice and feel his presence beside here?

Carl was coming closer. His chest was tight against her own, his body hot and flustered before hers. His thin fingers cascaded up her forearm, his lips parted slightly with wonder. He was going in for a kiss. His heart fluttered like a feather in the wind once they almost touched lips, their love glowing and alight. Yet the sweet contact refused to come. The young man’s eye opened, his actions ceased by the hand pressed against his chest like steel. He gazed at iron eyes, a pair which was sad and melting with emotion.

“You will lose your train.” Were her final words.

And when he withdrew, he knew there was no turning back. His fist clenched around the handle of his suitcase, and so did the sensitive heart within his chest.

*

Carl gazed about at the train station, watching as people fumbled about, cried, hugged, kissed and said their goodbyes. His head lowered slightly once he realized he was all on his own. He felt cold once he realized, he had just lost a life-saving company, a good friend…and maybe something more than that. Hell, would he even seen her again in his life? But it was too late now.

The train’s arrival was grand. The enormous vehicle screeched as it stopped, opening its gates and welcoming people inside. It was dark and cold, and the light coming from within wasn’t at all comforting. It would take him away.

Carl glanced about with desperation written all over his glowing face. He hoped to see her, standing amongst the people around him. But she was now long gone, and had forgotten about him. She would never leave, now.

He got inside the train, with a low head and numb expression. This wasn’t what it was supposed to be like. They had made plans when they were younger, naive and at the verge of death. They would leave this place one day, and they would do so together, hand in hand. But Carl’s hand was cold as he sat. His tired gaze lazed outside of the window, his breathing coming in small breaths.

Out of nostalgia, he craned his neck and peered outside the window, sadly gazing at the small town which once was his home. His heart almost stopped when he saw the last thing he expected near the train station. There she was, her girlish silhouette standing droopily and looking longingly at the train. She did come.

Carl’s breath hitched at the back of his throat, his eye collecting tears once he saw it; she was waving at him, and was slightly shaking. She was crying.

Not thinking clearly he stuck his hand out and waved at her as well, a small cry escaping the back of his throat. It hurt as a tear rolled down his milky cheek, cutting his skin as sharp as a blazing razor.

I love you.

Kasuri Kimono 1903.  Kasuri is a traditional Japanese folk textile, where the fibers are pre-dyed to create specific patterns during the weaving process, the resulting patterns have distinctive blurred edges.  Text and image via Blue Ruin 1 on Flickr

prologue || m. yoongi

grief of a god

summary; yoongi never once expected that he would put his past behind him. he was the god of war; you don’t forget nor forgive yourself for such sins. he was so used to everything dying when coming in touch with it– this new era that came, this era in which he was no longer feared deceived him into thinking that things had changed.

genre; angst, smut, greek god!au

pairing; yoongi x reader

The male went a distressed hand through his black hair as he rushed out of the cinema; he couldn’t make himself last more than ten minutes in there– watching the new adaptation of Wonder woman made his stomach churn. He dearly hoped that they wouldn’t trace back the crushed coca cola bottle at him; his anger took over before he thought it through. He scurried forward, his movements swift as he ignored the cold wind nipping away at his skin.

Yoongi vividly remembered how he tensed up at the mention of the greek gods; as soon as they brought up Ares being the main villain he knew it would be the best to leave. His fists clenched up in the pocket of his jacket, his knuckles turning white and he knew that if he were to put any more pressure on his palm, there would be blood.

Years, decades, centuries passed! The humans never truly forgot about the deities even though most deities have lost their memories and moved on, whether to join Hades in the Underworld or to live peacefully on Earth as a mere mortal. While Yoongi never once justified his unforgivable acts in the past, there was always a silent plea present somewhere within him that a day would come where he would look in the mirror and not hate the person staring back at him. Those eyes, those tired eyes that would dully stare at the person that he became today, oh, how disgusting he found them.

The raven shut his eyes, leaning on the nearest wall he could once he made sure that there were no people surrounding him. Ares. He shuddered at the memory of all the soldiers calling out his name, that name, as they were dying. He always wondered if the forgiveness that he craves for is truly out of reach. The mere fact that he was the god of war had made everyone turn away from him; that’s who he is, after all. The god who craves chaos, the god who feels no remorse for all the lives lost. The male clicked his tongue in irritation- he was young, they judged him based on the mistakes that he made in his youth, never once thinking whether or not he’s changed. Whether or not the adult god that he had turned into mourned, even cried for the bloodshed and loss!

“If you were them, you would think the same,” the raven scolded himself, shaking his head in disapproval at his antics as he did his best to drown his discomfort. What better way to do so than to drown his sorrows in alcohol– ‘there, how was that, Zeus? I no longer seek comfort in blood and wine, vodka and whiskey do a much better job at quenching my thirst.’

He tried to forgive himself— the original gods were long gone, they all begged for forgiveness and were now free of their past. Meaning that Yoongi had no one but his memory to remind him of the mishaps that he had caused, but that in itself was more than enough. You can only imagine just how many times he had begged for forgiveness and how many nights he had spent drinking away the bitter realisation that every god, regardless of the sins that they’ve committed, had been granted a second chance.

Having no specific destination in mind, Yoongi chose the all-too familiar route to his favorite bar, paying little heed to the chatter of the people surrounding him. He couln’t care any less about it; the crisp cold that has turned both his ears and nose a pink hue had been nothing but bothersome. Not only that, but the wind had become deafeningly overpowering, earning a groan from the male. Nonetheless, he tried to ignore his discomfort as only one thing remained on his mind— “that thing” being his spot in the said bar. It wasn’t anything special, the space it occupied wasn’t exactly the biggest and it had been around for ages, but there was something about that place that made him want to go back whenever he could. Was it the fact that, much to his surprise, each and every time that he’d get there it would be spotlessly clean or was it the fact that the staff is incredibly polite and brilliant at reading the mood?

He didn’t care, to be honest. Whatever the reason behind his fondness of the bar was, he was sure that his sanctuary was just the perfect little hiding place; no problems ever caught up to him while he was in there. How would they, anyways?

“The usual, please,” Yoongi muttered, his voice monotone. The woman nodded in understanding, her hands reaching out for the beverage before the raven even placed his order; it was a routine for her already.

“Your eyes look as tired as ever,” she noted, tightening her ponytail as she wiped away the beads of sweat on her forehead. It was a long shift, one could even say that she was tired herself.

“Probably because I am,” he added, toying around with the glass in his hand as he observed the pattern carved into its edges; whilst he briefly scanned the area in search for any familiar faces, his fingers traced lazy circles around the engraved markings. He lowered his gaze, relieved that he didn’t recognize anyone. The male laughed at himself, pity eerily tracing the apparent amusement in his chuckle; he couldn’t get drunk, he was practically wasting his money. A part of him hoped for a miracle, he hoped that maybe this time he finally will feel the effects of the alcohol- effects other than the warmth spreading through his chest and the fire in his throat.

The heavens must have heard his plea for they have decided to show mercy to the lonely god by sending an angel his way; had someone told him that, Yoongi wouldn’t believe any of it. But isn’t that the thing about miracles? They happen when you least expect them.

And indeed it did happen out of nowhere; you decided that the greek mythology had been butchered to the extremes in the adaptation and you couldn’t torture yourself in such a way, you left. A stupid move, honestly- it was raining cats and dogs outside and your apartment wasn’t exactly two steps away. As soaked as you were, you thought that it would be the best to sit down somewhere and wait for the progressing storm to pass.

You can only imagine how great that idea seemed when you accidentally slammed the bar’s doors hard enough to gain everyone’s attention. They weren’t budging just a moment ago, it wasn’t your fault! With a muttered apology, you bowed your head down in shame and scurried away towards the furthest corner, trying to attract as little attention as possible. And as you may have guessed it, the furthest corner was Yoongi’s.

You sat next to him, releasing a whimper as you ran a hand through your damp hair in distress; you can’t get sick anytime soon! There’s an exhibition coming up and you were all but ready!

The male’s eyes immediately darted towards you, his lips curling upwards thus making his attempts to suppress his smirk prove to be in vain. Over a dozen of witty comments came to his mind yet- “Hit me up with whatever he’s having,” cut him off before he even settled on a single option. With a huff, he looked away, the ghost of his smile still present on his lips.

“I doubt you slammed those doors purely accidentally, (Name). What pissed you off this time?” the blonde waitress inquired, offering you your glass after which she leaned on the counter, obviously intrigued. Yoongi noted your attempts to hide away from the eager blonde; she gave you no such option as she propped herself up by her elbows, her brow raised in a questioning matter.

“You have no idea how badly they fucked up the greek mythology,” you finally caved in, earning an eye roll. With an offended gasp, you dramatically placed a palm across your chest before you called her out on it, “Don’t you roll your eyes at me! They made Zeus a good guy. Zeus! He raped everything that had a pulse back in the days- hell, I wouldn’t be surprised that he flirted with a stone just because he was glad that someone else out there was as rock hard as he was.”

Thrown off by the accuracy of your image of his father, Yoongi choked on his drink while fighting back a cackling laughter. Feeling personally attacked, you turned towards him, “When was the last time you opened a mythology book? Because that’s who Zeus is! And they have the audacity to make him a good guy,” you grumbled before narrowing your eyes at your friend, “And you have the audacity to roll your eyes at me! I’m seriously questioning our friendship.”

“You mean Wonder woman? I’ve seen the movie and I have to say, I agree,” Yoongi added, taking a sip of his drink as he silently hoped that you wouldn’t notice your friend’s shocked expression.

He fought back the urge to raise his brow at her, yet he remained equally puzzled by the mischievous glint in her eyes, “Despite the numerous myths, there has never been one in which he had shown any redeeming qualities.”

—yet he is the one who received forgiveness and he is the one who represents power.

“Finally! Someone who takes this seriously!” you exclaimed, clanking your glass against the stranger’s before nodding your head at him, “The hate towards Ares was unecessary, if you ask me. God of war or not, he has done less harm than Zeus. It annoys me that people think that just because Zeus was the ‘leader’ of all the gods that he is good— have people seen our leaders? Our politicians? Puh-lease.”

The burning sensation in the male’s throat had flared up, no longer caused merely by the drink in his hand. He cleared his throat, averting his eyes from you because he was sure he wouldn’t be able to hide how much the topic means to him. His words may be deceitful, but his eyes? Never.

“That’s a fair point, but what do you think of Ares? It sounds as if though you don’t hate him nearly as much as you hate Zeus,” his words were quick, the pitch of his voice just a little higher than usual. As his thumb continuously kept going over the engraved markings, he tried his best to remind himself not to be disappointed if the words you utter aren’t what he wants to hear.

“Ares? I don’t hate him— or, well, the concept of him. I have to keep reminding myself that mere humans made him up to lull themselves into a false sense of security during wars. They needed to feel encouraged, they needed a leader they were sure was always going to be on their side, and out of that need, Ares was born. Zeus, on the other hand, makes no sense to me.”

“What if he was a bad leader? What if he was a leader that made people believe that bloodshed was something they should crave?” Yoongi’s grip on the glass tightened as he re-lived the memories of his youth, the bitterness of his mistakes replacing the warmth in his chest. He needed a re-fill so bad.

“That was not his doing—humans were born rotten. Proof is all around us. I mean, where are the greek gods now? People are still as bloodthirsty, cruel and selfish as they have ever been. It’s always easy to blame the human nature on someone else, on a higher power, perhaps. But greed has always been a part of who we are and it will be our own downfall. It will be our own fault and no one else’s.”

The male nodded, remaining silent before extending his arm thus initiating a handshake, “Min Yoongi. And for future refrence, I am usually not this inquisitive.”

With a gleeful smile, you accepted his palm, “(Name) (Last name). And for future refrence, I am always this opinionated. Be as inquisitive as you want, it’s refreshing.”

“(Name)! I got you a towel and some dry clothes! I think they should fit you just fine!” your friend chirped in, shaking Yoongi out of his daze. He let go of your arm immediately, tilting his head in the direction of the intruder. He genuinely didn’t even notice the lack of her presence in the first place.

Once the both of you waved her off, her eyes remained steadily chained to him and him alone. Not even a minute after you excused yourself, saying that you’ll be back soon, the blonde offered him a sly grin. “Your eyes look significantly less tired, Min Yoongi.

Saying his name had seemed so foreign to her, it almost felt wrong; regardless of the fact that he’s been a regular guest for more than a year now, she never heard him mention his name before. He was a mystery to her; a mystery who loved to come down to the bar each night and order multiple glasses of liquor yet never get drunk.

Yoongi released a huff at that— as he had said so once before, the staff was truly brilliant at reading the mood.

Dangerously so.

———

this is my first work like this! i hope you enjoyed it, should i continue? feedback is very much appreciated!

2

*cries* I am in love

250 unlined A4 with patterned page edges amazing cover two side clasps sown binding one red and one gold ribbon the cover feels amazing I can’t stop touching it and it was less than £30

Like not to sound like an actual infomercial but before I found paperblanks notebooks I didn’t know who I was

Still too in love with my scrappy repurposed junk book to make this one my main one atm tho which is such a weird feelings because I’m such a #DoItForTheAesthetics™ person with these things usually