so many reds on the color table

When We Collide (Part 12)

Pairing: Assistant!Y/N/CEO!Luke

Rating: NC-17

Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

Summary: He is the definition of high class smart ass, swimming in Dom Pierre Pérignon champagne and has never seen the shadow of poverty. She is underprivileged, lives in a messy dorm room on sale and struggles working as an assistant after being thrown out of college. But how will they collide when Luke makes Y/N pregnant after a drunkenly one night stand?

When We Collide on Wattpad

“Y/N, you threw up in her Marc Jacobs bag? That must be the funniest thing I’ve heard all week!” 

“Trust me, it wasn’t as funny as it sounds.” You mumbled with your phone resting between your shoulder and ear, eyes glancing up to look for when the elevator would arrive.

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We need to talk about Garnet

Steven universe has fucked up Garnet. Yeah, I said it. Garnet was presented as a complex character. Being a permafusion, she embodies not only Ruby and Sapphire entities, but also their relationship status. So when they’re in good terms, Garnet is (can I phrase like this? if no, I’m sorry)  “mentally healthier” and when they can’t agree or are fighting, Garnet starts dissociating and eventually falling apart.

So, what I want to say is: Crewniverse itself has stated many times that Garnet is not just two gems in a trench-coat. She’s her own person, she’s always evolving and changing and also changing Ruby/Sapphire per table. It’s like the two experience things through Garnet’s optics, that is - by its very nature - unique.

So when the Crewniverse just puts two balloons in Garnet’s hands with red color and blue color it feels a bit offensive to Garnet as her own person. It’s like they’re just reinforcing the idea that Garnet is like a mecha controlled by two little lesbians (btw I just love these babes); sometimes one takes control, sometimes another one. And all for the sake of a (weak) joke. So they shouldn’t do it? I - a mere viewer of the show - dare say what Crewniverse should or no to do?! 

Well… I actually don’t really think they should not to do it, but they could actually do it wisely. Like maybe with two raspberry colored balloons with the predictions? Indicating that both of them have influence on the two main predictions. Maybe Ruby wanted another gem of her kind to become an ally and Sapphire wanted to believe that a Ruby could change fate again since one did it once (and changed her life)? Maybe Sapphire also was strongly waiting for the worst since the CG didn’t treat the Ruby Squad very well and deep down Ruby didn’t expect another Ruby to do good since she suffers from low self esteem?

Like maybe not writing Garnet as a character with two conflict personalities but rather a complex combination and embodiment of two beings that keep influencing each other all the time? I love Ruby as a character, I love Sapphire as character, I want to see more of them and get to know themselves deeply but I don’t want it to be the center of Garnet’s narrative. They’re three different and lovable characters so please write Garnet as a whole again.

maniacani  asked:

Yep, me again haha. Do the kids eventually find out about the plushie incident when they get older and realise how much it hurt their daddy and how it contributed to the whole "i know you hate me" feeling? Like maybe during a casual family chat about silly things that have happened and keith just laughs about it when it comes up or smth?

agoddamnrayeofsunshine said: OK, angst was Definitely Not where I thought you would take that ask and now I’m wondering what would happen if Lance and Pidge stumbled across the stuffed bunny and piglet (or as I now know them: The Sadness Toys™) in a box in the attic or something some years later?

Previously: Keith gave them toys but Pidge and Lance neglected them.

[The Voltron Family] The kids were in their teens here. It was summer and the whole Shirogane Family was cleaning the whole house. They all had assigned places to clean. At the mean time, Shiro was in the kitchen, Keith was in the library (pffft totally not bias), Hunk was in the living room, Lance was in charge of their rooms and Pidge was in the attic. They went down stairs after Shiro called them out to eat snacks and rest for a while before resuming their cleaning. Keith was sprawled on the love seat, groaning in exhaustion. 

Keith: Why didn’t we buy a tiny house with two rooms? The kids can just share. It’s so tiring cleaning every damn corner. *glares at Shiro*
Shiro: You’ve told me this already so many times. Every. Year.
Keith: *continues glaring* I. KNOW. 
Shiro: *chuckles* *sits at the couch opposite Keith’s* I thought you wanted a big house back then?
Keith: I did. Don’t call me out on my past mistakes. *rolls eyes* *grabs a brownie on the coffee table that Shiro brought* I still have the clean the roof. God knows what’s lurking in there. And then wash the curtains. I was thinking it’s time to use the red ones, hmmm? *looks at Shiro*
Shiro: Yeah. Red with black. The whole emo aesthetic. *smiles teasingly*
Keith: *rolls eyes in amusement* Shut up. It’s our color. You love it.
Shiro: Never said I didn’t. *chuckles* You look very seductive all sprawled out on that seat, babe.
Keith: *groans* Of course. *monotone* Keith Kogane. In all his glory. Oh, please take me now, Takashi Shirogane. Have your way with me.
Shiro: *laughs* *gets up and pampers Keith with kisses on the face* Don’t mind if I do. *tickles him*
Keith: *laughs* Takashi. What the hell. I’m sweaty! 
Shiro: I don’t care. *continues giving Keith pecks*
Keith: *tries pushing Shiro away* *cant stop laughing* Get off me you barbarian! 
Lance: *comes down* Uh, Dads. Please get a room. 
Hunk: *arrives* You act as if you don’t see them do that everyday, Lance.
Lance: *pouts* It reminds me how single I am. 
Hunk: Awwww, you’ll find someone for you, buddy. *pouts mockingly*
Pidge: *joins them* *places the box on the coffee table*
Shiro: What’s that, Pidge?
Pidge: Found it in the attic while I was cleaning. *huffs* It’s labelled “Kids’ Toys”
Hunk: Oooooh. *peaks* Open it. 

So Pidge opened the box and they slowly took out different toys that most of them could remember until Pidge took out a stuffed bunny and piglet.

Lance: Huh. Who owned those? *looks around*
Pidge: I can’t say I remember to be honest. *blinks repeatedly*
Hunk: *turns quiet* *knows who are the owners* *looks at Keith*
Keith: *looks at Hunk* *smiles sadly* *coughs* The bunny one belonged to Lance and the piglet to Pidge.
Pidge: *looks at Keith* Really? I—
Lance: Seriously? *picks up the bunny* Huh. *examines it*
Keith: *clears his throat* T-they were gifts.
Lance: From who? Relatives? Daddy Shiro?
Shiro: *shakes his head* *looks at Keith*
Keith: *straightens himself* *clears his throat again* They were from… me.
Pidge: When did you give them to us? *tilts head*
Keith: *looks heart broken they can’t even remember* 
Hunk: First day. It was our first day when we got adopted. I got Mr. Cuddles, remember?
Lance: *laughs* oh yeah!! You still have him in your room.
Hunk: Exactly. All three of us got gifts that day from Daddy Keith and… 
Pidge: *places hand on Keith* I’m sorry we’ve forgotten—
Keith: *smiles* *squeezes Pidge’s hand* It’s fine. It’s in the past. You just didn’t like them. That’s understandable and—
Lance: I’ve stepped on it. *came into a sudden realization*
Pidge: *turns to Lance* What?
Lance: I’m sorry. I… I didn’t mean to. I… *sits down* Oh god now I feel awful. We basically threw the toys aside and— *looks at Keith* I’m really sorry.
Keith: *chuckles* It’s fine. Like I said it’s in the—
Lance and Pidge: *hugs Keith* We’re so sorry.
Keith: *chuckles turned to choking* *breaks down* I thought you hated me so much. It was probably stupid of me to assume. I just… *teary eyed* I just wanted you to like me…
Pidge: No no no. *hugs Keith tighter* I’m an idiot, Daddy Keith. I’m sorry.
Lance: No, Pidge. I’m the bigger idiot here. *hugs tighter*
Pidge: Not even gonna argue with that, Lance.
Lance: Oh shut up, Pidge!
Pidge: We were such bratty kids. Especially Lance.
Shiro: *smiles at Hunk* *looks at Keith, Lance and Pidge* CUDDLE PILE!!
Hunk and Shiro: *joins the cuddle pile*
Keith: Oh my friggin god. Shiro. What the hell. You’re so heav—
Shiro: *kisses Keith’s forehead* We just love you, Keith.
Keith: *rolls eyes* I hate this family of barbarians. 
Hunk, Pidge, Lance & Shiro: LIAAAAARRRRRR!!!

The Red Stands for Slytherin Blood

Character: Jefferson X Gryffindor!Reader
Prompt: Your houses are supposed to hate each other, it’s basically an unwritten rule. And yet, even after Jefferson manages to hurt you, you still get butterflies around him. And by hurt I mean he knocks you upside the head with a Buldger.
AU: Hogwarts
Word Count: 2,861
W/T: Honestly I have no idea whoops
A/N: THIS IS NOT EDITED. Before you ask, yes, the girl that Laf likes in this is none other than me. I’m sorry I couldn’t resist doing that XD. I like plugging myself into different stories sometimes, I can’t help it :). Hope y'all enjoy!


“Y/N L/N, you better not be lying to me!” Your freckled friend calls after you as you try to disappear into your dormitory. He quickly grabs ahold of you by the sleeve of your sleek black school robe, causing your books to fly out of your arms, scattering across the hardwood floor of the Gryffindor commons. “Now look what you’ve done, John.” You mutter, shaking loose of his grasp on you and bending over to recollect the books. “Just, tell me the truth, Y/N. I told you who I like, now you have to fulfill your end.”

You freeze in place for a moment. You couldn’t tell your best friend who you had fallen for the moment you met them, he’d laugh himself out of Hogwarts. He’d think you are crazy, insane, totally out of your mind for liking this guy. He’d think-

“Well? Who is it?” John badgers, his eyes wide and full of anticipation. “No, I can’t tell you.” You shrug, dismissing the thought. “Aww, come on, Y/N! At least tell me what house they’re in! Or what their eye color is or what hand they write with or something!” He whines, sticking his bottom lip out in a pout. “No, John. I’m not going to tell you. The same answer I’ve given you for the past week.” You sigh, rolling your eyes at him. “Come on, you said that we were meeting Herc and Laf in the dining hall to study for our potions exam. And with the way you’ve been acting, you need this help.”

“Well can’t you tell me if you like someone at least? Make it a yes or no question?” He pouts, making sure you can see his puppy dog eyes by moving in front of you. “God, if I were allowed to cast a Confringo spell on you right now, you’d learn to back off.” You threaten, the sight of him exploding right before your eyes becoming more and more appealing by the second. “Well let’s be thankful you’re a rule abider.” John nervously laughs, backing off a bit. “But just tell me if you have a crush on somebody right now! That’s not a revealing answer, is it?” You bite your lip, weighing out the pros and cons of answering, as if it were a life or death situation. “Yeah, okay, I’ve got a thing for somebody. Happy?” You spit, spinning on your heels to disappear to the dining hall, John giddily tagging right along.

“Awww, Y/N has a crush! This is adorable, this too much.” John mocks, hugging his books dreamily against his chest as he descends down the stairs with you, their enchanted hinges allowing for them to move in place for you. “Yeah yeah yeah. Might I remind you of your crush? The one you gushed to me about? Who was it again? A-” “We don’t speak of who I like anywhere besides the dormitory, Y/N.” John deadpans, giving you a super serious glare, which only earns a giggle from you. “Hey, it’s what you get for badgering me.” You reply, shrugging your shoulders as you nudge John around the corner of the staircase railing and into the extensive corridor before you. “You’re the one who wouldn’t tell me, what other option did I have?!” He exclaims, bumping you with his own shoulder.

Seeing as this was a meaningless conversation, you simply roll your eyes and continue into the Great Hall, the seemingly endless house tables laid out before you. The tops of the finished tables were bare, unlike the usually are during a meal, and many students milled about amongst them, each entertained by a different mean. Each of the house banners hang above a specified table, and below the yellow and red banner sat a pair of boys, each looking as mischievous as the other. The stouter one, a bandana tied around his forehead in his house’s colors, turns and waves at you and John, motioning for you to join him.

You and John happily plop down on the bench next to the two guys, one on either side. “Ah, so you’ve finally decided to join us, mon amis.” The boy next to you jokes, his puffy hair pulled back in a ponytail, his brilliant white teeth dazzling with his smile. “Oh shut up, Lafayette. They were probably getting hype for the Quidditch match later.” The guy that waved you over points out excitedly, his muscular frame shivering in anticipation for the big game later that day. “Actually,” John counters, narrowing his eyes at you, “We were talking about our love life.” “Oh! We’re you now? I do wish to hear of Y/N’s, how you say, crush. What are they like, mon ami?” Lafayette teases, leaning forward onto his hands. “Oh wouldn’t you like to know, Laf? What about that ginger you’ve fallen head over heels for, hm? Isn’t she sitting right down there?” You fire back, secretively point to the opposite end of the table.

Indeed, there sat a girl, her hair a fiery color, and her skin surprisingly tan in complexion to most other redheads. Her freckles dotted her cheeks and face, and her peculiar laughter lit up the small conversation she was having with her other Gryffindor friends. “Go talk to her, Laf. She’s looking right at you.” John nods, finally getting Lafayette to turn around, just in time to catch a glimpse of the girl’s hazel eyes averting themselves away from him, giggling to the other girls with her.

“Non, she is with friends. I stand no chance.” He sighs, turning back to you and the others. “Well then just swoon her with your skills during the Quidditch match!” Herc suggests, leaning across the table and slapping him on the arm. “Have you forgotten that she is our Seeker, buddy? That’s a bit tough to do when she can’t even focus on him.” John laughs at Herc, almost falling backwards on the bench. “Well then just make sure you save her from an oncoming bulgers, or something. I dunno.” Herc fumbles, already ready to watch the game. “But hey, I managed to snag some BeWitched Paint from Thomas!”

Your heart skyrockets at the very sound of that name. You knew who he was talking about just by the tone of his voice. Thomas Jefferson, the Slytherin who had somehow stolen your heart when you first met him. Sure, your Gryffindor buddies weren’t on best terms with him, but that didn’t stop you and him from talking. And hanging out in secret under his invisibility cloak. After curfew.

“How in the bloody hell did you st-wait, did Alex do that?” John questions, narrowing his eyes at the small tubs of red and gold paint Hercules has pulled out from under his robes. “Possibly.” He mimics back, handing the container of gold to him. “Oh, and Y/N? I may or may not have blamed my masterpiece in the Slytherin commons on you.” You draw your head back at that. “What do you mean,’masterpiece’?” You seeth, glaring at Hercules. He opens his mouth to respond, a sheepish grin tacked on his face, but another voice interrupts him, drawing everyone’s attention towards the entrance doors.

Stumbling towards you, a boy with a low bun, a green and silver scarf, and scattered facial hair approaches, his hand wrapped around his side in pain from laughing so hard. “Something funny happen, Alexander?” Lafayette inquires, knowing full well what he was laughing about. “Dude, Thomas has been complaining about it all day. How did you manage to get it on his robes?!” Alex wheezes out, falling next to Hercules and John in a pained manner, still gasping to catch his breath.”What. Did. You. Draw?” You deadpan, eyes wide. “Oh shit.” Alex whispers, quickly composing himself. “Why did we blame this on them, again?” “What did you do this time?”

“Why don’t you go take a look yourself?” Alex suggests, standing back up and ushering you towards the door. “Wha-no, I’ll take a look later, or I’ll probably hear it from someone later anyway.” You shake off, standing up. “We-” you start, grabbing ahold of Lafayette’s arm and tugging him up with you “- are going to get ready for the big game, where we will demolish Slytherin’s arse.” You smile smugly at Alex, watching his smirk turn into a grimace. “Come on, Laf.” You say, spinning around on your heels and pulling Laf along behind you. “Wait, mon ami, why are we going around the table the long way?” He asks hurriedly, his face reddening as you near the group of girls from earlier.

Lafayette’s crush turns around to face you, her smile bright. “Oh, are you guys going down to the field now?” She asks, standing up from her spot. You nod, nudging Lafayette forward a bit. He attempts to regain his composure, but the girl’s smile seems to be too much for the poor Frenchman. “Alright, let’s go kick some ass.” She laughs, taking Lafayette’s arm and walking alongside him. “You know it, mon ange.” He laughs, leading her along behind you. You can catch snippets of their conversation as they trail behind you, and at one point you have to suppress an onslaught of laughter because of the girl replying to him in fluent French, stunning him into silence.

You eventually reach the Quidditch grounds, the stands already alive with students and teachers from all houses, rearing to watch this intense rivalry play out before them. The three of you disappear into the Gryffindor halls beneath the stadium, the noise from above echoing down the stairwell. The girl veers off to a different branch of the hallway, leaving you and Laf with the rest of the Chasers in the main room. “Didn’t know she spoke French, huh?” You tease him quietly, making his cheeks grow redder than ever. “Oh, shut up. I still haven’t heard who your crush is, Y/N.” He answers, trying to change the subject as he pulls off his school robes, revealing his Quidditch uniform underneath. “Like I said, I’m not telling. My lips are sealed.” You shoot back, doing the same with your robes. ‘Then how come you know so much about everybody else, but won’t let other’s know about you?”

“Not answering the question.” You sing back in an annoyed tone, aggressively pulling on your protective gear. ‘And if you’ll be so kind, the game is going to start shortly. I would rather not be disqualified over the fact that our exchange student was late to the game.” Briskly, you stalk towards the shared broomsticks closet, where both teams brooms are held prior to a match. Slipping your wand into your back pocket, you approach the small, square room, each wall sporting the color of each of the four houses. Wrapping your gloved hands around your Firebolt, you gently uproot it from its holding container, a surge of magic flowing through your fingertips as you do so, almost as if it were coming alive. Its sleek wooden handle resting perfectly against your palms fills you with confidence, ready to be able to mount it once again.

“Well, I didn’t realize Y/N was here as well.” A familiar voice chuckles happily, startling you. A shiver whipped down your spine and your chest caved in on itself as you turned to meet the source of the voice, his chiseled chin and green and silver sweater looming over you. “Flirting with the enemy, are we now, Thomas?” You smirk, staring up at his dark eyes mischievously. God, you could get lost in those eyes for hours, the way they just suck you in, as if they were an endless abyss. “I’d say that would be more of your doing, staring at me like you’re lost in some sort of dream. Bet you wish you had a Disillusionment charm on now, the way you’re blushing.” Thomas points out, only to step closer to you, his body heat now radiating onto you. “I wouldn’t be talking such smack, if I were you. To my knowledge, Hercules has mastered a pretty strong Hurling Hex. I wouldn’t want to have to sic him on you like Alex did with the Enchanted Paints, now would I?”

“Hey, lovebirds, we are getting ready to start!” Someone calls from the hallway behind Thomas, breaking up your heated trash talk. “Careful now, Y/N, wouldn’t want you making your hideously colored jersey all dirty from picking a fight.” Thomas mocks, stepping back towards the shadows of the corridor behind him. “This red? This stands for blood. Slytherin blood. Better keep an eye out.” You finish, disappearing back down your own hallway to the Pit, where your team was lining up. “You ready?” Lafayette asks from your right as you position yourself, his voice filled with excitement. “Always.” You joke back, mounting your broomstick as the doors in front of you swing open, revealing the lush green field before you. You lean forward and zoom out into the open, where the crowd’s roaring and cheering explodes in your ears. The sky rushes towards you as you fly about in the air, the gained wind pulling your hair back. A light rain had begun while you were under the arena, fogging your visibility slightly. The whistle from below rings through your ears as you burst into action, Lafayette quickly grabbing ahold of the Quaffle and chucking it to you. Gracefully grasping it in your right hand, you surge towards the hoops ahead of you, swooping downward to avoid an incoming tag team from the Slytherins.

Thrusting all of your strength behind the large red ball, you hurl it towards the highest goal post, catching the Keeper off guard. She rushes up as fast as she can to stop it, but she doesn’t quite make it. The Quaffle soars through the goal, and another roar erupts from the crowd.

And the game continues like this through the overcast and light rain, a constant back and forth of scoring, Gryffindor barely keeping ahead. Many players have been injured, Lafayette being one, his leg throbbing from kicking a Bulger away from the Seeker. Thomas has flown by you a few times, pretending to knock you off your broom as he whizzed by. Lafayette even had to yell at you a few times to dodge some incoming Buldgers that nearly scalped you.

You hover in place for a moment, attempting to catch your breath. Removing your goggles, you quickly rub them against your pant leg, trying to defog them. Green and red blurs fly past you, each fighting and escaping each other. There are several shouts from behind you, and Lafayette shouting catches your attention the most. You begin to turn towards him, but you’re instead assaulted by a black metal Buldger, inches from your head. It collided with your left temple instantly, pulling you off of your broom. The ground rushed towards you, and the lush grass turns to black as the shouting and cheering fade away.


Fuzzy lights and soft breathing. That’s not what you remember last, but it’s definitely what you were seeing. Blinking away the gunk around your eyes, you gingerly sit up, your head quickly throbbing. A groan escapes you as you raise your hand to the source of the pain, a rough bandage meeting your fingers instead of your hair. “Oh, you’re awake thank god.” A voice sighs, scaring you. You jump slightly in place, and a soft hand placing itself stop yours protectively. You’re eyes trail up the arm to its owner, who’s deep, dark eyes draw you in just like before.

“Thomas? What are you doing here? What am I doing here?” You question, taking in your surroundings as you do so, trying to ignore the pain in your head. You were clearly in the Infirmary Wing, and it seems that only you and Thomas were there. “I, uh… You were knocked unconscious by a Buldger during the match.” He answers sheepishly, his face growing red as he tightens his grip on your hand. “Oh.” Is all you can say as the memories slowly come back to you. “You guys won, by the way. Filthy Gryffindicks.” He mumbles, looking away from you. “That’s nice and all, but why are you here?” You ask confused, the same heat from earlier being brought back to your cheeks. He shyly rubs the back of his neck, his face a mix of emotions. “I, uh, was the one that hit you with the… Buldger…” He trails, his own cheeks becoming red. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” You smile at him, knowing full well why he was here. “We’ll, there is one way you can make it up to me.” You offer, a small smirk forming on your lips. “Oh? And what would that be?” He inquires, leaning towards you.

Without uttering another word, you lean over the short railing of the hospital bed and press your lips against his, the tension from earlier prominent in the kiss. He kisses back, returning the same passion, a fire sizzling between your lips.

It as if there were magic between the two of you.

Cold Hands

Pairing: Natsume/Tanuma

Words: 6.9k

Summary: There’s always been a wall. At first, Tanuma thought that with time and a little gentle persistence, he could pull it down. Or at least climb over it. Now he’s just wondering if it’s completely futile.


There’s always been a wall. At first, Tanuma thought that with time and a little gentle persistence, he could pull it down. Or at least climb over it. He always imagined the moment he would get to the other side, what it would be like. He liked to think it would feel warm and peaceful, like lying in the grass in the summertime, when the last of the sun rays paint the sky orange and fireflies begin to rise into the humid air and the first stars blink awake in the darkening twilight.

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Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas
aka the Follow You Down Christmas spectacular/shitshow.  I blame @kashyuriart.  Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals.


Mairon’s phone buzzed, and he glanced at the text message that had popped up on the screen.  One word, sent from Melkor: help.

Mairon rolled his eyes, set his phone aside, and picked up the report he had been reading.  A moment later, his phone buzzed again.  Another message from Melkor appeared on the screen: Help.

Mairon clucked his tongue and turned his phone over, screen facing the desk. He swiveled his chair gently and skimmed the page in his hand, looking for where he had left off.

The phone buzzed again.  Against his better judgement, Mairon picked it up and looked at the message that had just arrived: Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelp.

“For God’s sake,” he muttered.

Before he could respond, a barrage of identical messages began to fill the screen.







“Jesus Christ,” he swore.  He pushed himself back from his desk and stalked across the hall to Melkor’s office, his phone still buzzing incessantly in his hand.  “For the love of God,” he snapped, pushing into Melkor’s office. “What do you want?”

“Oh, thank God,” said Melkor, laying his hand dramatically over his heart.  “I thought you’d never come.”

“What do you want?” asked Mairon again, unmoved.

“I need an electrical engineer.”

“I’m not an electrical engineer.”

“That’s not what your master’s degree says.”

“Oh my God,” said Mairon, throwing his head back and sighing.  “What do you want?”

“Advice,” said Melkor.  “From my dear friend, and go-to problem solver.”

“Melkor, I swear to God—”

“Alright, alright,” said Melkor.  “Relax.  I need you to look at something.”  He slid a piece of paper across his desk.

Mairon picked it up, his brows knitting together as he looked at the scribbled notes.  “What am I looking at?”

“Plans,” said Melkor.

“Plans for what?”

“The greatest light display you’ve ever seen,” said Melkor.  

“I don’t know what I expected,” said Mairon, shaking his head.

“Aw, come on,” said Melkor.  “I’ve tried, like, four different configurations, and I’ve blown a different fuse every time.  I’m desperate.”

“You need is an electrician, not an electrical engineer.”

“But what I have,” said Melkor, “is an electrical engineer.  So…”Mairon scowled, and Melkor adopted an ingratiating grin.  “Please?”

“You know I’m incredibly busy, right?”

“Pretty please?”

“I have like, eight projects I need to finish before New Year’s.”

“Aw, come on, Scrooge.  It’s Christmas.”

“It’s Christmas Eve.”


“You’re a huge drain on my productivity.  You know that, right?”

“Is that a yes?”

Mairon sighed.  “I want you to know this is resignation, not willingness.  Do you hear me?”

“Nope,” said Melkor, scooping up his plans and grinning widely.  “I can’t hear you over the sound of Christmas cheer. Come on,” he said, tossing Mairon his coat and heading for the door.  “I’m parked out front.”


“Holy shit,” said Thuringwethil, looking around in awe.  “I should’ve brought my sunglasses.”

“Pretty sweet, huh?” said Melkor, beaming with pride as he looked around at his apartment, which looked vaguely as though Willy Wonka had been allowed to design a storefront holiday display.  There were lights around every window and door frame in sight, blinking their blues and greens and reds in a clash of meandering patterns.  There were soft, white icicle lights strung in zig-zags across the ceiling.  Red and silver tinsel lined every windowsill and wound intricately around the banister of the stairs.  There were two trees in the living room, each at least six feet tall and dripping with so many lights and ornaments that the boughs drooped dangerously low to the ground. There were small trees on every side table in sight, each decorated in a different color.  Four stockings hung over the fireplace, which bled soft light and warmth into the room.

“That’s one word for it,” said Thuringwethil, eyeing the miniature train that wound around the perimeter of the room, slaloming between trees and furniture before disappearing through the doorway and into the kitchen.

“I love it,” said Gothmog, pushing Thuringwethil inside and closing the door behind them.  

“You’re going to blow a fuse,” said Thuringwethil, looking suspiciously at the lights.

“I’ve got it covered,” said Melkor.  He craned his head toward the kitchen.  “Mairon?” he called.

“Still working,” came the reply, from somewhere in the depths of the cavernous apartment.

“Jesus,” said Gothmog.  “Still? You guys left like, three hours ago.”

“It’s a delicate procedure,” said Melkor, grinning.

“And judging by the amount of lights already up,” said Thuringwethil, “possibly dangerous as well.  Where should I put this stuff?”  She held up the bags in her hands.

“What is it?”

“Food,” she said, heading toward the kitchen.  “I brought mashed potatoes, gravy, and green beans.  Gothmog has the drinks.”  She set the bags down carefully on the counter, the crockery clinking gently as it settled.  “I need to heat it up, though.  Can I use the oven?”

“Go for it.”

“Did you heat up the ham, or are you going to wait?”


“The ham,” she said.  “Does it need to go in too?’

Um,” said Melkor.

“You forgot, didn’t you?”


“Yes, you did.”

“I didn’t.”

“Then where is it?”

“I have to pick it up,” said Melkor.  “I was just on my way out, actually.”

“You’re not going to find one on this late notice.”

“Bet me,” said Melkor, flashing a grin as he headed for the door.

“And that’s why we never leave Melkor in charge of anything,” she said, sighing as she turned the oven on to preheat.  “It’s Christmas dinner, for crying out loud.  How can you forget the ham?”

“On the bright side,” said Gothmog, “we have plenty of wine.”

“Thank God,” said Thuringwethil.  “Now if we can just find the corkscrew…”


“Honey!” called Melkor, kicking open the front door.  “I’m home!”

“Wow,” said Gothmog.  “That was fast.”  He turned in his spot on the couch and craned to look at Melkor.  “What’d you get us?”

“Ham,” said Melkor.  “As promised.”  He ambled into the kitchen and set an enormous platter on the counter.

“Oh my God,” said Thuringwethil, turning away from the stove.  “Where’d you get that?”


“Downst—from your building’s Christmas party?”


“You stole the ham from your building’s community Christmas party?”

“’Stole’ is such a strong word.”

“How about ‘grinched’?” suggested Gothmog, coming over to inspect the platter.

“To be fair,” said Melkor, “the Grinch stole the roast beast.”

“The type of meat isn’t really the issue here,” said Thuringwethil.

“You wanted a ham,” said Melkor.  “I got you a ham.”

“You stole one, you mean.”

“Grinched,” said Gothmog.

“Don’t encourage him,” said Thuringwehtil.

“Alright,” said Mairon, coming into the kitchen at last.  “We may have an illegal number of extension cords in here, but I think it’ll hold for the night.”

“So everything’s hooked up?” asked Melkor.

“It’s good to go,” said Mairon, walking to the counter and surveying the food with interest.  “Is that ham? Fantastic.”

“It’s stolen,” said Thuringwethil, frowning at Melkor.

“I don’t even care,” said Mairon.  “I’m starving.”

“Then let’s eat,” said Melkor, maneuvering a stack of plates out of the cupboard.

“Okay,” said Thuringwethil, “but—”

“Thuringwethil, it’s Christmas.”


“So take this,” said Melkor, handing her a glass of wine, “and this,” he continued, placing a Santa hat gently on her head, “and for once in your life, relax.”


“Is it me,” said Gothmog, “or is this eggnog getting weaker?”

“No,” said Thuringwethil, “you’re just getting drunker.”

“Yeah,” said Gothmog.  “You’re probably right.”

“Drink,” said Melkor, waving his glass at the TV and sloshing eggnog onto the carpet, “as we watch our hero, one-time child star Macaulay Culkin, attempt to smash Joe Pesci’s skull with a paint can.”

“I swear we didn’t drink nearly this much last year,” said Gothmog, pouring himself a fresh glass.

“We drink exactly the same amount every year,” said Melkor.  “One drink every time Kevin sets off a trap that could’ve killed someone.”

“At least we’re only watching Home Alone,” said Thuringwethil.  “Remember the year we watched the sequel, too?”

“That was my first year, if I remember correctly,” said Mairon.

“I think you’re right,” said Gothmog.  “Somehow, you were the only one who didn’t get completely shitfaced.”

“How did you manage that?” asked Melkor.

“I took strategically smaller sips,” said Mairon.

“Cheater,” said Melkor, dumping eggnog into Mairon’s glass.  “You better make up for it tonight.”

“Working on it,” said Mairon.  He nodded at the screen.  “Drink.”


“Look at ‘em,” said Melkor, feigning disgust as he nodded toward the couch, where Gothmog and Thuringwethil had fallen asleep.  “Couple of lightweights, I tell you.”

“Give them a break,” said Mairon mildly, sprawled sideways in a chair. “It’s been a long month.”

“Yes,” Melkor agreed, sighing.  “The fact that it’s over is just about the best gift I could’ve asked for.”

“Oh, man,” said Mairon, heaving himself out of his chair and looking around. “I almost forgot.”

“Forgot what?”

“Shoot,” said Mairon, not listening.  “Where did I put it?”

“Put what?”

“My coat.”

“Kitchen,” said Melkor, standing up and trailing Mairon out of the room.

“Good call,” said Mairon, snatching his jacket from the kitchen table and rummaging in the pocket.

“What are you looking for?” asked Melkor, leaning against the island.

“This,” said Mairon triumphantly, pulling a slightly crumpled envelope from his pocket and turning around.

“What is it?”

“A gift,” said Mairon, smoothing it gently.  He walked over to the island and held the envelope out in front of him. “Merry Christmas, Melkor,” he said.

“No fair,” said Melkor.  “This is a no-present party.”

“I know,” said Mairon.  “But I couldn’t resist.”

Melkor broke the envelope’s seal and fished out a piece of paper, folded in thirds.  Setting aside the envelope, he pulled open the folded paper and scanned it.  His eyes widened as he read, and he looked up at Mairon, mouth agape.  “Is this what I think it is?”

“Patent papers on the Silmaril programs,” said Mairon.  “It’s still preliminary, but—“

“It’s perfect,” said Melkor firmly, crossing the distance between them.  He lifted Mairon’s chin and kissed him gently on the lips.  “Absolutely perfect,” he murmured, kissing him again.  “Which makes it, like, doubly terrible that I didn’t get anything for you.”

“Keep that up,” said Mairon, “and we’ll call it even.”

“Deal,” said Melkor, and kissed him again.  

Behold: the framework of Photoshop Flowey. With 6 human souls worth of power, Flowey takes on a new form, using the parts of the true lab as an endoskeleton, covered in flesh and plant tissue.

The main body is comprised of the DT extraction machine that was used to take DETERMINATION from human souls, DETERMINATION that was injected into the first golden flower that grew from the seed stuck to Asriel’s fur, dropped to the ground  and covered in his dust, imbued with his essence.

The TV that Flowey’s face appears in is that same old tv that we used to watch the old tapes Flowey left out for us to find. 

Each tube or pipe contains a soul inside it, freeing each soul from the machine decreases Flowey’s attack and defense, until your attacks are doing thousands of damage.  The pipes we see in Photoshop Flowey are the same pipes we see throughout the true lab. 

Note that in Photoshop Flowey, the Aqua and Orange souls are in the front main eyes, just like how Asgore’s eyes blink aqua or orange as a tell for what order the attack will be during his fight. Like father, Like son.
Another interesting tell? I don’t know how many of you noticed this, but usually when Photoshop Flowey kills you, for the last frame the pupils of the eyes are red, I can’t get it to happen every time, that or I’m just missing that frame.  Then I noticed how the colored locks in the true lab look like eyes… so I put that in too with the operating table.

The One

Originally posted by overnightprincess

//Jongdae x you ❤️ (only slight)

Word count: 2,714

If you thought I’m not going to pay tribute to Chen’s new unit, you were mistaken.

“No, but seriously, she is looking at me.”

“Are you sure? I would swear that our eyes met.”

“Guys, back off, who would even look at you.”

“She is looking here!”

“Right, scream louder you dickhead… Oh shit, she is looking here.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, abort!”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Would you make a tutorial on how u made that ? :) i habe no idea how haha ( prinatbels // microsoft publisher ) xx

how I make my printables in microsoft publisher

this could definitely be done in word too- I just like the freedom that publisher has

I’m also writing this assuming that you have some experience with word (publisher is basically the same so)

1. once you open up a new document, click on “draw text box” at the top 

it’s highlighted in the picture above

2. once you’ve drawn your text box, enter in what you want the text to say and change the font/font size

3. to make my to-do lists and charts, I use a basic table 

I made this one 2x8 so I would have the most slots

4. once you have added your table, highlight it and change the borders to all, and the color if you wish. you may also resize it

5. to add the checkboxes on the to-do list, go to insert>shapes and pick whatever you shape you want it to be (I chose rectangle)

6. I zoom in for this part, so they’re as accurate as possible. draw the box where you want it on the first line, and change the weight/color to whatever you want

7. now the fun part! highlight the checkbox (just click on it) and type “ctrl c” to copy it, then press “ctrl v” a bUNCH of times!!!! (or for however many checkboxes you want). then arrange them in the boxes. red lines should appear to guide you, so you know they’re perfectly lined up.

8. this is the same method I use for all my printables, I just use less/more columns/rows. as you can see here, I made a table that’s 1x3 then just expanded it

hopefully this was of some help to you! these are super easy and fun to make, I hope you enjoy them as much as I do x

Colors (part 1/?) Joshua Hong

A/N:……Look, before you read just let me say, I have no idea what happened to me to write this, but I’m kinda proud of this?? And It’s going to be a series which is new to me ???

So far I think it’ll be fluff so…..yea ENJOY.

A plain white canvas wasn’t interesting to look at. It was plain, colorless and out right boring.

A plain canvas doesn’t even get a second glance. A plain canvas will never be interesting to look at,no one would want to look at it.

It has nothing.

Just white and blank.

But only when A splash of color is added will it be noticed, will it be interesting. The more color you add the more eye catching it becomes and eventually it will create an image.

An image that people might want to see. 

An image the creator would be proud of would get the most attention.

But canvas doesn’t always mean it will be a plain old a piece of paper, it could also mean a person.

Someone who doesn’t even know their own color. Someone who’s either too afraid to add a bit of color to their world or someone who just has never experienced the feeling of being filled with color.

It happens a lot, a lot of people often ignore the chance of being splashed with color and avoid it as best as they can because they’re too afraid to show them, scared of being rejected for who they really are.

But also being afraid of being accepted, cause once you are you never want to let go of them, but once they leave, you end up hurt. 


Shattered into pieces.

But at one point or another you’re going to have to let your colors flow out the sooner you do the better you feel, you’re being more true to yourself and you accept the fact that your a bit different than others.

Being ignored, no one even bothered to look in your direction.

You’re plain, a blank canvas, nothing interesting. 

Lacking color.

Always alone,alone in the back of the classroom, no one bothering to even make sure your present.

From where you always are, everyday sitting in the same place, looking observing everyone with their own color.

Every shade of every color surrounding everything.

Everything, but you.

You might as well be non existent.

You’re lonely, wanting to be noticed, to be talked to, to have friends and maybe even eventually fall in love.

But…for you that’s impossible, cause you’re a blank canvas.

A canvas with no color, not even a soft sketch of images made with a pencil. 

Nothing is on the canvas.

You’re a canvas needing to be colored, painted, sketched.

Is it too much to ask to have even just a small dot of color?

Asking yourself that everyday of every hour, minute and second.

But never getting an answer.

Not being able to bare anymore of this room full of colorful people you stood up, barely making any noise, making your way out of the classroom.

Walking with  your head down low, hair covering your eyes, and your face emotionless.

Laughter, giggles and chatter willed the hallway. 

Even they had colors. Brilliant shades of yellow and green, the colors of happiness and glee were clouding your sight of vision.

Not daring to race your head and heading straight towards the stairs that lead to the library.

No one was usually there.

It was quiet and big, shelves filled with many books.

Stories of all kind, stories of people without color getting they’re own color.

People falling in love, tragic deaths and so much more.

Never getting enough of the amazing stories with beautifully worded sentences. Each line elegant and continuing the story, with each line comes the end of the story closer.

You never get tired of them.

coming face to face with the big wooden doors to the room filled with endless shelves of literature you took hold of the handles you opened the door.

The room was big, filled with shelves and tables. Room was filled with all shades of browns and rusty reds. No bright colors, just soft browns and rusty reds.

The smell of the old and new books filled your nose, you always enjoyed that smell.

Face still missing any signs of emotion, you made your way to the self you had left of at last time. Picking out the next book to read and heading to the usual place you sat at.

Between two shelves in that back, on the padded window seat with a few pillows. You could even see if someone came into the library you could see the wooden doors so clearly from where you were.

And it was a place only you knew of. 

You’re own special place to forget everything and just read.

You could hear the bell ring to class, but there was no need to go.

Cause no one would even notice that you’re gone.

Opening the book to the first page you immersed yourself into the story.

And before you knew it the school day had ended. 

Looking up towards the wooden doors into the library just in time to see them open to reveal a figure of a man overflowing with colors.

So many rich and beautiful colors were surrounding him, it was mesmerizing and you couldn’t look away.

From the ends of hair to the heals of his feet he was overflowing with the colors, the canvas was filled with color. No spot was left blank.

Before you knew it you were on your feet and in the man’s sight of view.

Locking eyes, you were shocked making you’re eyes go wide.

  Seeing your reaction he chuckled softly and smiled, with both his eyes and lips.

“ You’re (y/n) right?”

To Be Continued…

soulmate!5sos au: luke.


summary: soulmate!au where your vision is made of shades of your soulmate’s eye color and it stays that way until you meet them.

pairing: lukexreader

word count: 1380 words.


in your world, everyone who had a soulmate saw the world in shades of one single color, the color of their soulmate’s eyes. people saw the world in shades of brown, others in green, some in blue, sometimes the colors were mixed. since you were born, your world was blue. the sun was a light blue, the grass was a darker, jade-tinted shade of blue, and your parents were both shades of blue. everything but you and your reflection was blue. that’s how it was for everyone but the select few who never got a soulmate. they were chosen to do other things, like jobs that required no love life at all.

for you, seeing the world in blue was completely normal, and in all honestly, you loved it. you didn’t really want another color – not that you’d be able to tell. you didn’t know what green, or brown, or other colors looked like. blue was pretty enough for you.

for some odd reason, your body had decided that four a.m. would be a great time to wake up, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t go back to sleep. so you decided on a very early morning walk to tire yourself out and perhaps go back to sleep.

you got ready in a pair of warm sweatpants and a large sweater, and then hurried out the door. almost immediately, you were hit with a wave of cold air. in a way, however, it was very refreshing. it woke you up a bit. the sun was still hidden on the other side of the earth, but the street lights provided enough light for you to see. the streets were abandoned, only parked cars lining the streets instead of pedestrians like how it was in the daylight. the moon was high in the sky, its light blue a contrast to the dark, navy blue of the sky.

early morning was beautiful.

you walked a little further, getting some needed exercise so you could go back to sleep, and admired how peaceful and blissfully quiet it was outside. you made a mental note to remember to do this another time. but you were also really cold, your hands turning numb in your pockets. you decided that maybe a hot cup of coffee or tea would help warm you up, so you set your course to the local café.

when you got to the café, you stepped into the warm shop and immediately felt a lot better, the numbness of your hands and nose slowly melting away. you pulled out the few bucks that happened to be in the pocket of your sweatpants and stepped up to the register. the boy smiled at you, “hi! what can i get you?”

you ordered your prefered warm beverage and paid the cashier the amount the beverage costed. you took a seat as you waited for your drink to be prepared and looked out the window. you looked up at the clock and noticed the time, the little hand pointing in between the four and the five, and the big hand pointing at forty-three minutes. you had walked for quite a while. you jumped when the cashier set your beverage in front of you, and you thanked him just before he walked away. you kept your gaze out of the window as you occasionally sipped the drink in your hand.

as the minutes passed by, the streets became a little lighter and a few cars had started passing. you knew it was the early rush of people going to work. you could never imagine how people could wake themselves up so early just to go sit at a desk for hours. it seemed so boring to you, you never understood that people willingly had applied and had been interviewed for those jobs. and it seemed completely mad that some people actually liked those jobs.

you were a little peeved that you couldn’t see the colors of the cars that passed, but that was a rare occurrence for you. most of the time, you loved the blue hues on everything and everyone. but sometimes it got annoying and you just wished your soulmate would show up. you kind of wanted to see what green grass looked like, or what the red lipstick some of the girls at your school wore, or the color pink in people’s cheeks when they blushed. but all you saw were varying shades of blue. it was completely normal to feel this way, even you parents said that they were a little sick of seeing the same colors. but they told you the wait was worth it. so you stuck it out.

during your second cup of what you had ordered, you watched as a large bus had pulled up in the parking lot of the café. it wasn’t an ordinary city bus or a dial-a-ride bus, and you were genuinely curious what the bus was actually for. there was no logo, or any real design on the sides, so you were left with total curiosity. soon though, two men dressed in black uniforms had stepped out, followed by a group of four boys. you looked away before any of them could make eye contact with you, though.

you continued to sip your drink, even as the group had walked into the café. they were a little quiet, but then again, it was almost five in the morning. you looked around and noticed that you and the group – besides the cashier – were the only ones in the small café.

they ordered, five coffees and a hot chocolate, and then took the table on the other side of the shop. the group began to talk, first small chatter, but then they had started to wake up as the coffee – and single hot chocolate – had hit their systems and gave them the needed energy. by their accents, you realized that they were not from around the town, but australia. good ole ‘straya. you laughed as you thought about australian sayings and that crocodile dundee movie you watched a few years back.

after your last sip of the warm beverage in your hand, you stood up, tossing your cup into the trash and stuffing your hands back into your pockets and bracing yourself for the cold outside and the walk back to where you lived. luckily it was only a few blocks from the café.

as you walked closer to the door, you weren’t looking up, and suddenly you ran into someone, their drink spilling onto the right sleeve of your sweater a little bit. you looked up, apologizing profusely for bumping into the stranger. your eyes had made contact with his, and you sighed internally as you realized that he wasn’t your soulmate either.

“hey, would you maybe like to join us?” he asked suddenly, australian accent thick. you were about to decline, but then he offered to buy you another drink as compensation for bumping into you and spilling a little bit of coffee onto you. so you accepted and told him your drink of choice.

while he was gone, the group he was just sitting with invited you to sit down, so you did, greeting each of them with a smile. except, when you smiled at one of them, the tallest looking one with lighter colored hair and a piercing adorning his bottom lip, you had suddenly been blinded by a white light and a throbbing headache. you groaned, looking down and trying to shake this headache off and the sudden blinding light. when it had gone away and the headache eased, you looked up. your eyes widened, seeing so many colors, colors that weren’t just blue! there were colored that you imagines were green, pink, yellow, red, orange, just so many colors! it was amazing!

you looked across the table at the boy who you’d made eye contact with and smiled. sure enough, his eyes were a gorgeous shade of electric blue.

“it’s you,” he mumbled.

“it’s you,” you had replied, your jaw dropping.

he grinned, “i’m luke. and you are?”

you smiled back, “(y/n).”

“(y/n),” he tested, still grinning. “i think we’re soulmates.”

you nodded, laughing softly, “i think so, too.”






Contemporary Korean-Style Home Cooking with @sso_yang

To see more photos of Soyeon’s contemporary Korean-style cooking, follow @sso_yang on Instagram.

This interview was conducted in Korean.

Traditionally served up in a brass bowl or thick stone pot, Korean cuisine gets an artful, contemporary makeover in the kitchen of Soyeon Kim (@sso_yang). When the interior designer from Seoul, South Korea, started collecting modern tableware crafted by her favorite designers, so grew her own appetite for cooking, styling and photographing food. “I like taking photos because I can enjoy my plates, preparing meals, table settings and food pictures all at the same time,” she says.

Soyeon typically fills her tabletop with nourishing noodles or a colorful mix of rice and vegetables, neatly arranged in her favorite plates and bowls. “Korean food takes a lot of care and time to make,” she says, noting that many items, such as kimchi, must be fermented. Lovingly prepared ingredients combined with one of three basic sauces — gochujang (red pepper paste), doenjang (soybean paste) and ganjang (soy sauce) — imbue Korean fare with its deep signature flavor, says Soyeon. “These are the key ingredients. Without them, Korean food just wouldn’t be delicious.”

These are our costumes for Greensboro!! I’m still adding flowers to my dress (there’s just so many!) I made my dress after the one Taylor wears in the Blank Space music video. And my mom ( @mamaswiftie317 ) is wearing an outfit from the Shake It Off music video. We both worked very hard on our costumes! My mom was at the dining room table working on hers all week and she even scoured the internet for a boom box purse! I’ll be draping colorful lights over me for the show and my mom will have red lights. We’re driving from Orlando for the show and we’ll be in B-Stage pit together! (if someone will trade my main stage pit ticket for a b-stage ticket!). We’ll also be at the Lexington show the day before! We’re so excited for this road trip because it’s our last trip before my 13th show (& last show) in Tampa and also because we get to see real autumn leaves and do all the fun autumn things we don’t get to do in Florida…like apple picking and corn mazes and wearing sweaters without sweating!! Anyways we can’t wait to see you Taylor!!!!


Niall: He shifted in his black leather jacket, sliding the sleeves up his forearms just a bit. The diner was packed, all kinds of people out on this perfect Friday date night. You were seated across from him, your pony tail falling around your shoulders. You were more nervous than you had expected. You’d been seeing Niall for a while, but his blue eyes and disarming still sent your knees shaking. “What do you want?” He asked, just as someone cranked on a juke box in the corner. You bit your lip, scanning through the milkshake menu. Niall spent more time looking at you than milkshake flavors, but he thought he was better off for it. The best girl in school and she was going steady with  him? Sometimes he had to pinch himself to make sure it was real. In retrospect, he probably didn’t deserve you. And he’d yet to meet your daddy and he new for a fact your dad wouldn’t approve of his daughter going steady with a boy like him. But Niall would try his damndest to prove that he was worthy of you. “It doesn’t matter, what are you in the mood for?” Immediately, his eyes dropped to your lips, the cherry red color making him groan low in his throat. “Well…” he teased as you kicked him under the table. He laughed, raking a hand through his hair. “Chocolate sounds good to me.” You placed your order and sat back against the red vinyl seat cushion, eyes on the boy in front of you. He wasn’t the bad boy, but he wasn’t necessarily good either. By most standards, you couldn’t do much better than Niall, or at least that’s what you thought. He was charming, funny, smart and he had his own car- which was a huge perk. The girls all flocked over him in school, wanting to wear his letter man jacket and wanting to wear his class ring, a sign of going steady. But you, you’d gotten him somehow. When your milkshake was placed in front of you, Niall popped two straws in. Together, you both leaned in and took a long sip, eyes on each others. “Yum,” you giggled as you pulled away. He leaned forward over the table and kissed the chocolate off your lips. You flushed red, not used to Niall being so bold in public. “I’m tired of trying to resist you,” was all he said as he popped the cherry on top of the shake into his mouth. “So I’m not going too,” you blushed, his hand extended for yours across the table.

Zayn: He wasn’t sure what color his hands were anymore. They seemed to always be covered in grease. No matter how many times he washed them, or used his mom’s special soap, his hands remained stained. He thought it was a fitting metaphor for his life. He was the bad boy, cutting class to smoke and flirt with the girls as they passed by. He rode a black, monstrosity for a motorcycle, but Zayn wanted people to know that he was coming. But now, as he lifted his head from the engine he was working on, he wished his tainted hands and reputation would fade away. You walked down the side walk, two of your friends flanking you on each side as you clutched your books to your chest. Your skirt danced around your knees, your hair up like all the girls wore now. He wiped his hands on a rag, leaning against the side of the hood. Zayn was dangerous, and maybe you looked at him more than you should. But you couldn’t help yourself. You saw him ride by on his bike, you saw the rough, manly sculpture of his hands. You saw his full mouth and dark eyes, his hair gelled back and his black leather jacket. He was the ultimate good girls dream. Good girls love a bad boy for the sole reason that they want someone to set them free, and you knew that Zayn could do that without problem. The radio was on in the background- Dream Lover by Bobby Darin. The song was too perfect. “Hey,” he said slowly, his eyes flicking the length of your body. “Hi,” you said back sheepishly, stunning him and your friends. He grinned, a quick tug of his lips that left your heart slamming into your chest. Zayn was the boy you dreamed about at night, the one you spent hours doodling about. He felt the same, but he wouldn’t show it. ‘“You look good,” he said, his grin salacious. Your friends gasped and tugged you along, but you were thrilled by his compliment. With a laugh and a shake of his head, he bent back down into the engine he was fixing, his long fingers moving as he thought about blue eyes and a perfect, flawless smile.

Harry: Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t the most coordinated of fellows.What was worse, he had approximately five minutes to learn how to do the jive before tonight’s winter wonderland dance. God damn Liam for not being in town when he needed dancing lessons. That boy could jitterbug and jive like it was no one’s business. Awkwardly, Harry tried to remember the moves as he skirted the hood of the car. When he reached the passenger side door, he opened it, his hand immediately extended for yours. There was another reason he needed to dance. He wanted to impress you. Normally, most people didn’t even look his way. What, with his black framed glasses and gelled back hair. Most people looked at him and thought ‘geek’ but you looked at him and saw more than that. And, through a divine miracle, you had agreed to go to the dance with him. “You look beautiful,” he mumbled, closing the door behind you. Harry was endearing in the sweetest way. He wasn’t the most confident, but there was a sweetness in his eyes that was impossible to resist. “You look handsome, yourself,” you said, taking his arm and surprising him. He grinned, strutting like the proud peacock into the dance hall that was decked with cut out snowflakes and too much glitter. “Wow,” you said in awe. “It sure looks great.” He smiled, your happiness utterly adorable. A slow song immediately started and he gulped, tugging at his collar as he led you to the dance floor. Gently, he took your hand and started to sway. “Why are you nervous?” You asked softly, as the light from the disco ball flicked over his pretty features. His green eyes widened in surprise, his pretty pink lips falling open. “What makes you say that?” He asked instead, spinning you under his arm until you laughed. “You don’t need to be. I’m glad you asked me,” he let out a nervous laugh, his cheek coming to press against yours as he moved around the room. “I’m glad you said yes,” he whispered back. “I have a question,” he asked in a moment of bravery. “Hmmm?” He pulled back a little and slid his class ring from his hand. “I want to know if you’ll be my girl?” With his hand held out for yours, the ring clutched there and his eyes so sweet and sincere, you fell in love with Harry beneath glittering snowflakes. “Yes,” you said back happily, letting him slide the ring on your finger. He pulled you back into his arms, dancing the night away.

Louis: “How many times are you going to turn me down?” He asked, chasing you down the hallway of the high school. You were smirking, books clutched to your chest as his converses thundered as he came up behind you. His brown hair was falling in his eyes, his perfectly sculpted curl in his eye. “How many times are you going to ask me?” You batted your eye lashes at him, not wanting him to know what kind of effect he had on you. In jeans and a white t-shirt, he looked adorable and way too persistent. “I’m going to ask you every day until I’m gone,” he promised solemnly, his letterman jacket in his hands. He wanted you to go steady with him. He wanted to go to dances with you and make out up at the point on a Friday after a drive in movie. He wanted to be with you, but each time he had asked you had said no. You thought he was teasing, to be honest. Louis was the class clown, he was rarely serious about anything. But somewhere along the line, Louis had gotten serious about you. It was an accident, honestly, he never meant to fall for anyone- let alone someone like you, who was way too good for him and always would be. “I’m afraid you’ll be awfully disappointed,” he grabbed your arm, gently pulling you back. Your skin burned on contact, and his eyes widened because he felt it too. Gingerly, he pressed you back into the locker. He leaned against the locker, his forearm by your head as his forehead came down close to yours. You couldn’t breathe, finally figuring out that his eyes were that perfect green-blue of the sea. His lips were soft and oh, so pink. His skin was olive and he smelt like cologne. Thank God for the locker holding you up, or else you would have slid to the floor. “Why are you nervous?” He finally asked, cutting to the heart of the matter. “I don’t want to get hurt,” you blurted, his face registering surprise. He tipped your chin up with his knuckle, forcing you to meet his gaze. “I’ll never hurt you,” he promised, and for the first time you believed it. He brushed his lips over your brow, a tender, sweet notion. He held his jacket out again, and eagerly you slipped your arm through the sleeves. “You look cuter than I expected,” you grinned as he dropped his arm over your shoulder, walking his best girl to class.

Liam: He didn’t care about his reputation. He didn’t care if mom’s and dad’s locked up their daughters when he was around. He didn’t care about anything but you. And that was odd, for the boy who could never settle down. But it had happened. Inadvertently, he would admit, but it had happened nonetheless. Never did Liam think he’d find a girl to hold his attention, but he had finally done it, And you were, wow. Liam didn’t think there was a word that could describe you. He looked at you now, tucked under his arm as you watched the movie through the windshield of his car. His arm was draped around the back of the seat, his fingers on your shoulders. He had no idea what a good girl like you was doing with a rake like him. Let alone, what were your parents thinking? But you had insisted you had seen good in Liam, and you had been right. Liam had been hurt a time or two, resulting in his careless attitude and his brashness. But underneath all of it, he was just looking for someone to love him, and you saw that. “The screen is that way,” you said, never moving your eyes. He laughed, nuzzling your neck with his lips. “You’re so cute when you’re mad,” he laughed, his teeth scraping against your ear lobe. The most beautiful thing was that for a guy who was so used to getting what he wanted, he never pressured you. He was more content than he would have thought, to just walk you home and kiss you on the cheek. He was more than happy to let you wear his jacket and his ring. He wanted people to know that he was taken. For the first time. “Who’s mad?” You said breathlessly, as he cuddled you into his chest. “Can’t fool me, baby,” he teased, his lips pressing to the corner of your mouth. You were smirking, shoving him away but he drew you right back, his hands tilting your chin so he could press his mouth to yours. You melted into him like you always did when his tongue rubbed against your lips like that. You groaned in the back of your throat and Liam grinned. He had helped break you out of your shell since you’d been dating. You were louder, more assertive. You spoke up when you wanted something and you stuck up for yourself. Also, Liam helped you realize how much you loved kissing. “You’re so sweet,” he murmured, pulling his mouth from yours. He knew what you wanted, but he wouldn’t give it to you. He wanted to do this right, he wanted to tell you he loved you first. Because for the first time in forever, Liam had something that meant everything.

anonymous asked:

Could you maybe write a piece for Sansa's nameday? Soon after they've taken back Winterfell. She's completely forgotten but Jon remembers and wants to do something special just to remind her that she doesn't have to be strong and serious all the time. That it's OK to appreciate the small, frivolous things in life and it doesn't make her a "stupid girl". Oh and of course there must be lemoncakes!! =D

Hope you like it!!!

Keep reading

i want it all (with you)

So…..this is set promptly about a year after Emma geta freed of the darkness. Basically CS fluff, because its the hiatus and we need it.

It really was a beautiful ceremony. Everyone in Storybrooke dressed in their most formal attire, and gathered in city hall for a wedding that wouldn’t be forgotten. Regina was a vision in a dress fit for a queen. She opted to wear red, claiming too many times that white would never be her color.

The meeting hall was turned into a wonderful venue or the celebration. The walls were decorated with delicate floral arrangements, and tables were set up on one side of the room while the dance floor was on the other.

Emma couldn’t remember a time since she came to Storybrooke where it has been this nice and calm to have such a party. It was quiet, though. It had been almost a year since she has been saved from the darkness, and nowadays, she spends her time chasing her little brother around the loft instead of chasing villians around the town.

And she was happy.

Emma was talking to Regina, congratulating her again, but her eyes kept drifing to the devilishly handsome man standing by the bar, talking to the groom. She excuse herself before walking over towards him.

Killian was just in the middle of coversation with Robin when he felt two arms circle his wake, and he could hear a giggle from the woman behind him. He turned in her arms to face his Swan. Gods, she was beautiful.

“Hey, Captain!” She said, placing a kiss on his cheek. She felt ticklish from the stubble that grazed her lips.

“Captain, eh. Someone seems happy.”

“Well, why wouldn’t I be? I just wanted to steal my pirate away for a dance or two.” He smiled at her, placing his drink on the bar and nodding to Robin before following Emma to the dance floor.

Never letting go of his hand, she pulled him to the center, resting her free hand behind his neck, their intertwined hands coming over her heart. He twirled her around a few times, acting as if they were back at the Enchanted Forest, just like their first dance. She laughed a little when he decided to dip her aithout her knowledge.

It was nice, being here like this she decided. She loved him, and she could almost picture doing this again in the future, maybe on their wedding day.

“It really was a beautiful wedding.” Killian said, looking around to the smiles of the other townsfolk dancing around them.

“Yeah. It was.” She lays her head lightly on his shoulder, beathing in the scent of the sea and leather tat she could never get enough of.

“It makes me think…” He paused, drifting off and shaking his head, trying to forget he said anything. “It makes you think of what?”

She raised her head to look at him skeptical, and he diverted his eyes, his face blushing. “Nothing, love. It just made me think-”

“Of us…maybe having a wedding like this.”

“I’m sorry, Emma. I didn’t mean to…It just came to my mind and….I know you may not be ready. And I don’t want to scare you or-”

“Hey.” She cut him off, placing her hand on his scruffy cheek. “It’s okay. You know, when I was younger, like right after the whole Neal thing, I told myself that….that getting married just wouldn’t be for me. I was too screwed up, and I didn’t believe that was the life that I’d want.”

She felt Killian tense up, and she began to sooth the skin of his hand with her thumb. “But look at me now. I thought a lot of things back then. I never imagined I’d find my parents, or have a life with my son. I never in a million years would’ve thought I would fall in love with Captain Hook.”

He chuckled at that, placing a small kiss on her forehead. “I’m a different person now. I believe that I can be happy in the long run, and that I can deserve those things. I love you, so much, and I want to take that next step with you.”

“What are you saying, Swan?” Killian asked, pulling back a bit to look deep into her green eyes.

“I think…” she said, “I’m asking you to marry me.”

She heard his breath catch in his throat, and she feared for a second that maybe this isn’t what he wanted, and that she wasn’t enough. That moment ended quickly when he surged forward and kissed her, letting all of the emotion of the last three years pour into the kiss.

She pulled back for air, laughing as she let go of his hand to wrap is around his neck. “So is that a yes?”

“Emma.” Killian whispered, brong his hand up to cup her jaw. ‘I want more than anything to be your husband. Yes. Yes. I’d marry you tomorrow if I could.“

"Well, I think we should wait a little while.” She said, pulling back to look at him dearly. “At least 9 months. I want to be able to fit into my dress.”

“What are you talk-” he stopped when she gave him a cheesy grin, biting her lip in hope that he understood. “You mean….you’re pregnant?”

“I found out this morning.” She nodded, giggling a little as small tears drippes from her eyes, ruining her makeup. He was at a loss for words, so he pulled her in and let his tears gather at her neck. “Thank you, Emma.”

“For what?”

“ For loving me. For giving ne ths life. For making me a father.” He smile at her as he placing his hand softly on her still flat stomach. “I love you so much, Emma Swan.”

“We love you, too.”

the best deal

❅ Day 1 of the Christmas Writing Event ❅

member/group- hansol/Seventeen

prompt- christmas shopping on black friday

listen to- this 


“This is the weirdest Christmas list I’ve ever laid eyes on,” you admitted, staring at the notebook paper. You and Hansol were out shopping for the members of his group, on Black Friday no less, and honestly, you were a little confused by what all the members liked.

“Okay, yeah, maybe it’s a little weird. But it’s what they wanted,” he replied and took your hand in his while he tried to navigate through the hordes of people. Just like you had expected, there were hundreds of people rushing around the mall to find that perfect gift for their family or friend. If you were being honest, you would tell Hansol that this whole idea made you a little bit nervous because of the huge crowds and extremely determined people, but you didn’t want to ruin his mood.

You looked at the list again. “Let’s go to the f.y.e store first for Joshua. They’ll have the anime and guitar picks,” you suggested and Hansol nodded in agreement before practically dragging you to the store.

Once you were inside, you were shocked by the sheer amount of people rushing around. A woman barely five feet tall was practically wrestling with a man at least a foot taller for a video game back in the corner and two older ladies were arguing rather loudly on who got to buy the last One Direction CD. Not to mention the line wrapped around the store. There had to be some type of sale- like every other store- to make people go this crazy.

“Wow,” both you and Hansol in unison before looking at each other a laughing.

After observing the store silently, you two picked the best course of action. “Okay, I find the anime, you find the guitar picks. He likes  Naruto, right?” Hansol nods. “Then let’s do this.” You raised your eyebrow and nudged Hansol. “First one in line wins!”

You both turn away and run from each other at lightning speed. You’ve been here before to buy movies, so you knew close to where the anime things would be. And sure enough, after just a few moments of hunting, you found a stash of anime DVDs that you quickly ran to. Naruto is one of Joshua’s favorites Hansol had said, so you went to grab that one first. Luckily for you, there was one left and you snatched it speedily. As soon as it was in your hand, a lady appeared beside you and put her hand over yours.

“Excuse me, I need that,” she said with a rude tone. You gave her a look and held it tighter.

“So do I.” You yanked it away from her and scurried away to make a dash for the cash registers. You didn’t see Hansol anywhere when you go in line and you cheered internally. But seconds later, a boy you knew all to well was making faces at you from two people ahead. You groaned and moved up to him, gaining a few glares from shoppers who were mad you “cut” the line. You ignored it and stood by your boyfriend with a pout.

“I win,” he gloats immediately and gives you a kiss on the forehead. You stick your tongue out at him but hand him the DVD anyway.

“Yeah whatever, you just wait until I smoke you when we try to find Chan those Michael Jackson figurines!”


Ten stores and two near-fist fights later, you and Hansol had managed to find your way to the food court. As expected, the place was decorated from head to toe with Christmas items. In the middle of the whole court was a giant tree that nearly touched the high ceilings. It had too many different colored bulbs and ornaments for you to even try to count. Streamers matching the tree burst out from the top of it and hung in big dips around the whole cafeteria. Not to mention every chair in the place had a big red bow on the back of it and hundreds of silver snowflakes dangled above your heads.

“It’s really pretty in here,” you admitted as you and Hansol took your trays of food to a random table.

“Not as pretty as you!” he exclaimed and you rolled your eyes with a laugh.

“You’re so cheesy, oh my God,” you responded as you both sat down a table beside the ginormous tree. He ignored you and made kissy faces instead which only made you shove his arm.

“You know you love me,” he sing-songed before stuffing a forkful of food into his mouth. He tried to smile with his mouth full, but it didn’t work and instead he started coughing. You bursted in giggles as he stopped acting like a dork and chewed like a normal person. When he was alright, he glared at you. “I could’ve died!”

“Nah, you were alright. I was here to protect you. I’d use my nice, big muscles to give you the Heimlich if I would’ve needed to.” You made a big show of flexing your arms and making mean faces. Instead of taking you seriously, Hansol could only crack up at your silliness. He kept thinking of how lucky he was to have you and decided he needed to show you that.

“Okay, Y/N, on a serious note, I have something for you.” He reached down into one of his backs and brought out a little box with a red bow on it.

“Hansol, I thought we agreed we wouldn’t get any presents for each other today,” you said softly as he took your hand.

“Yeah, I know we did. But I saw this and I didn’t know if it would be here when  I come back. Plus they had good deals for it, being Black Friday and all. So yeah, anyway…” He opened the little box and showed you a beautiful gold ring that resembled a knot being tied. He looked you in the eyes before speaking. “This is our first Christmas we’ll be sharing together and it made me realize just how much you mean to me. I want to spend every holiday with you, every day with you. You are the one, Y/N.” He pauses to take a deep breath. “So this a promise ring. You’re promising me to always be by my side, to love me at least half as much as I love you, and to share every Christmas together, even if it means shopping for my weird group members.” He pauses again as you laugh. “And lastly, you’re promising to one day, marry me. I love you, Y/N.” He takes out the ring and slips it onto your finger gently. You couldn’t help but tear up a little.

“Chwe Hansol, you are a meanie for making me cry.” You look at the ring and smile up at him. “But I promise.  I promise I’m yours now and for years to come.”

You lean over the table and connect your lips to his tender, loving ones. At that moment, you didn’t care if the whole mall saw you kissing him. You didn’t care if people snapped pictures or made comments. All that mattered to you was the feeling of him against you and the fact that he was yours.


afterglowingassassin  asked:

Hey there! For the writing prompt may I please have a Jacob x Reader with #60 please and thank you 💟

(Whew, sorry about the mixup the first time!)

Drinking For Two - Jacob x Reader
 60.) “It’s a hobby of mine to prove you wrong.”

“Jacob, you can’t honestly do that. It was a joke. He’s not even your type.”

“Having second thoughts?” He’s already looking toward the target, forming a plan in his head.

You snicker into your drink and shake your head. “The instant you go over there, that meatheaded Blighter is going to destroy you, you know.”

“This pretty face?”

“Would you rather it be your pretty arse?”

He stands and straightens himself, running a hand through the hair under his cap. “You really think I can’t do it, then?”

“I think it’s a bad idea for you to try.” You down some more of your drink. “And I think I can’t stop you when you inevitably do.”

“Ah, you know me so well.” He says with a playful wink and glides away from the table.

It could be his air of confidence guiding him. Though, it’s more than likely one-too-many drinks in his system lending aid to his light steps. All the same, he wastes no time chatting up the strapping gang member at the corner of the bar.

The Blighter’d been drinking alone, looking rather solemn and sporting the muted red colors common to his kind. But his expression changes as he looks to see the leader of the Rooks himself pulling a barstool next to him. Not quite angry – moreso confused when Jacob starts speaking.

Only a matter of time until the bar fight starts, you tell yourself.

You’d seen it before. The mixing of greens and reds usually lends to more red being spilled before the night is over. But after several minutes – much longer than it takes a brawl to get started, really – nothing happens.

What the hell? Are the two of them honestly having a friendly chat? You peer closer in their direction. And damn it all, they are!

Jacob’s leant toward his new friend, even offers him a drink or two with charismatic flair. Damned man knows exactly how to bat his eyes and run his tongue not-so-innocently across his lip to get what he wants.

And this Blighter’s fallen right into it, looking all flustered and shy.

Then it happens. The Blighter motions to the bartender, gets a pen and paper in return, and starts writing.

Oh, for fuck’s sake. That cocky ass actually got that Blighter’s phone number!

And Jacob makes no small show of it as he strides back to you, fanning himself with his newly acquired prize. His leather-gloved hand slides the slip of paper to your side of the table. “It’s a hobby of mine to prove you wrong.”

“Jacob Frye, you scoundrel.” You tease. “Talking the pants off the enemy? I can’t believe you did that.”

“Of course I did. The man has a soft spot for sweet talkers.”

“And brunettes, apparently.” You study the number. It looks legit. “You’re not going to disappoint him, are you?”

“Perish the thought. I’m not that cruel.” Jacob polishes off the rest of his drink. He turns and waves heartily toward the Blighter at the bar who’s still carefully nursing his drink. The man returns the gesture with a gentle wave. Jacob turns back to you. “Question is, are you?”

And slowly, slowly the pieces start to come together. The Blighter isn’t quite staring at Jacob. Isn’t quite waving at Jacob. You narrow your eyes at this troublesome twin. “And just what’s that supposed to mean?”

He smiles, all pearly whites and mischief. “Means your date’s on Saturday.”

Wait… What?

“Jacob!” You yell, more embarrassed than angry. Lord knows what Jacob’s said about you to set you up.

He’s bolting out of the bar long before you’re able to stand, leaving you with the tab and a tremendously awkward situation.