store front sign


Dream Part. 01

The open sign, the store front sign, the soda bottles.


The lead girl sits beside a rainbow, ASTRO each have a rainbow shine across their face.


Okay, seriously, rainbow soda bottles. 

SWEET HEART {part 1}

Every morning was the same, a run to the little café down the street as you quickly made your way to work. The café was simple, a local establishment, run by an elderly couple with a simple wish to not get overrun by the Starbucks and other massive coffee chains. You loved seeing the sweet elderly couple as you made your way to work, the woman would smile kindly at you as she rang up your usual, a croissant and a coffee to go. It was the same routine every day, but then one day as you walked up to the store front, a sign hung on the door.

Sadly, there has been a medical emergency. We are closing down the café indefinitely or until further notice. We are sorry for any inconvenience we may have caused. Love, the Kims.

You looked at the sign and a sigh escaped your lips.

Sad. Someone said next to you and you nodded. Looking over, you saw a tall man, his suit crisp and his eyes focused on the sign.

Yea, I go here all the time. You murmured and the guy looked at you.

Really? This is one of my best friend’s grandparents’ place. He said in a roundabout way and you laughed as you nodded along.

Gotcha, well tell your friend that I hope everything works out. You replied and he pointed behind you.

Or you could tell him yourself. The man said and you gave a glance behind you. Standing not too far was a guy, his face could only be described as angelic and his eyes seemed to be downcast as he looked at the storefront. Walking up to the tall man standing beside you, the grandson smiled.

Namjoon-ah, what are you doing here? He asked, and the suit clad man patted him on the shoulder.

I wanted to check up on you, hyung. How’s your grandfather? Namjoon asked and you tried not to eavesdrop, but you were curious.

Ah, it was a bad fall, they think they will need to do surgery on his hip, which means a long recovery. God, I just hate that this happened. He murmured and then made eye contact with you. You went wide eyed as you immediately felt uncomfortable.

Oh my god, I am so sorry! You said rapidly and gave a weak smile. I just come here every morning before work and I saw the sign and he told me that it’s your grandparents place and I’m sorry for listening in. You blurted out and wanted to smack yourself in the forehead while Namjoon and the grandson stared at each other with amusement. Now you wanted to crawl in a hole and never come out from the embarrassment, but right as you were about to slink away, the grandson smiled.

Well that’s very kind of you. It’s nice to know that my grandparents made such an impression. Uhm, I’m Seokjin by the way, but you can call me Jin. He replied in a graceful manner and you felt your knees go weak as he extended a hand. You took it lightly, before looking at your watch.

Oh shit, I got to go! You told him before leaving. He chuckled and then looked at Namjoon.

Did you catch her name? Jin asked, but Namjoon shook his head. Ah, shit. I wanted to see her again. He muttered before looking back at the café, still dark with loneliness. Sighing, Jin walked into the café, and hung up his coat.

You were sprinting to your job, your body seemed to go at supersonic speed, but your mind was still back at the café wanting to talk to Jin.

Y/N! YOU’RE LATE! Your asshole of a boss seemed to constantly catch you on your bad days. You had been at this job for almost 2 years and yet no matter how hard you tried, your boss seemed to have a vendetta against you. It was a simple desk job for an online food magazine, a blog of sorts that would talk about the latest trends in food and various recipes. You loved it, well you didn’t love the job, but the actual website was one you frequented constantly. You had taken the job thinking that you would be able to write articles, critic restaurants, maybe even share a few of your recipes, but instead you were stuck getting coffee and doughnuts for the asshole you called your boss and his cronies.

Sighing a little to yourself, you bowed as you apologized.

I’m sorry, sir. I was just trying to pick up the coffee, but the shop that I usually go to was closed. You mumbled and your boss scoffed.

Ah, well good riddance, that place needed to go, they always burnt the coffee grounds. He said and his group of cronies laughed behind him. There was a fire that burned, you could still see the woman’s joyful face as she served you, and now knowing that her café was being talked about in such a demeaning way set something off.

You wouldn’t know good coffee if it smacked you in the face. You muttered and your boss stopped, glaring at you as the cronies tried to stifle their laughter. You crossed your arms and looked up at the menacing figure. That coffee is imported from Colombia, and brewed carefully. Let me guess, you want me to go to the chain shop down the street and buy you some shit latte with too much sugar. You spat and your boss crossed his arms.

You speak to me with respect. He ordered and you scoffed.

I’ll speak to you with respect when I think you deserve it. You retorted and your boss went red with anger.

You’re fired. He said in an infuriated voice and a part of you was expecting that reaction. Sighing heavily, you nodded and grabbed your things, leaving behind the less than dream job you had clung onto. As you walked dejected, now realizing you had just gotten fired from the only source of income you had, you wandered back to the café. A part of you was hoping that it would magically be open, but you knew it wasn’t going to be, but then you saw a light on inside. The large storefront window showed that it was still empty inside, the handwritten sign still hung on the door, but the kitchen was lit and you could see movement.

Curiosity got the best of you, as you walked up to the door. First trying the handle, you were surprised when it opened. Looking up and down the quiet street, you contemplated going in, but when you were curious, nothing really stopped you. Walking into the shop, you heard the movement in the back stop.

Hello? You called out. Uhm the door was open, is anyone here? You asked and Jin’s face popped into the window that looked into the kitchen.

Oh, hello again! He said, you were surprised at how cheery he was, a veil of confusion seemed to overlay his features for a moment, before he smiled brightly. Uhm, one second. He said before disappearing back into the kitchen, you looked around the empty store, it made your heart sink as you thought about this place being closed indefinitely. So, how can I help you? Jin asked as he came out of the kitchen, he was wearing an apron and idly wiping his newly washed hands onto a cloth that hung from his pocket.

Oh, I just saw that someone was in here and the door was open. You mumbled as you felt your curiosity had definitely killed the cat. The embarrassment was traumatizing for you, but Jin didn’t seem bothered by your unexpected appearance.

Did you have to go somewhere? He asked and you looked down at your knitted fingers.

Uhm, yea, my job, well my old job now I guess. You stammered over the words and Jin nodded.

So something happened at your job? He asked and you sighed.

I got fired. You said bluntly and he chuckled.

Okay then, well … uhm what’s your name? He asked and you felt your cheeks blush with embarrassment once more.

Y/N, my name is Y/N. You mumbled, he smiled brightly and shook your hand.

Well nice to finally meet you, Y/N. He said and you shook your head a little in disbelief. Most guys weren’t like him, he seemed to just breathe positivity and exude confidence. Actually, there’s a little something that I think can cheer you up. He continued and disappeared back into the kitchen. You looked at the wake in which he had left and you were completely in awe, it was strange how comforting this guy had been in just the little instances you had met him.

Try this! Jin sprung out of the kitchen holding a tray of baked goods, little tea cakes scattered along the plate. You were skeptical as you looked at them, each one a different pastel color, all of them bite-sized creations. Grandma always said a little sweet always brings a smile to your face. He smiled and you looked at the beautiful little cakes.

Alright, hmmm I’ll try this one. You murmured, delicately picking up a little lightly pink colored cake. The strawberry flavor seemed to subtly dance on your tongue, the light vanilla frosting meshed perfectly, and the cake was perfectly baked. Oh my god, that’s fantastic! You exclaimed and Jin smiled.

I am thinking of reopening the shop, I don’t think my grandparents will be able to, but I don’t want to sell this place. So I wanted to at least try somethings. Jin started to ramble and you tried to keep up. Then he stopped suddenly and looked at you. I need some help with this actually. He started off slowly and you didn’t really see where it was going. And you recently became unemployed. He murmured and suddenly you were putting two and two together.

Want to help me out? He asked and your jaw hit the floor.

Author’s Note: So, fluffy and sweet … literally. I’m currently watching The Great British Baking Show (highly recommend) and I have also played the Voltage, Inc. game Finally, in Love Again (highly recommend lmao), which is set in a bakery, and so this definitely draws from those two things. Also @hayekangsangbin I wanted to make sure you got the fluffy Jin fic you wanted and to the people who have felt like Jin doesn’t get enough love, hopefully this will help. Sorry for the SUPER cheesy first part, I swear it will get better. Also, SWEET HEART … Like SWEETHEART because like cake and also it’s a pet name for a S/O … okay I’m done - Caroline

Shizuo Heiwajima vs. Kenji Miyazawa: The winner...

No one.

They’d probably start off fighting each other and utterly destroying whatever city they happened to be in. Store fronts, street signs, the occasional mid-size SUV.

However, since Kenji revs up to fight on an empty stomach no doubt it would be growling the whole time. Shizuo is going to hear this and become EVEN MORE ENRAGED. (If that’s even possible)

Though it won’t be about the fight, it would be about fighting a child who is hungry and hasn’t eaten anything. The tension in the fight would immediately cease and Shizuo would haul Kenji off to the nearest ramen shop and make him eat. 

Afterwards, Shizuo would mention his line about hating violence and Kenji would wholeheartedly agree. Even though they’re the most destructive things on this planet. 

azentangle  asked:

There's a knock to the store front. The sign said closed after all, Jax wasn't about to barge in there, despite the odd time of day. Maybe the shop simply wasn't open today "Rakh?" His voice called out. "It's Jax. Are you in there?" He really should have gotten the man's phone number--

“Just a minute! Door’s being a bit finicky!” There’s some thumping, and a few scraping sounds. (It’s chalk on stone.) “Come on, you stupid piece of–” The door is yanked inwards. 

“HahAH! Success! Man, that door was stubborn… Didn’t want to stay in place, but I think I’ve got it now. What can I do for you today, Jax? Here to get an early taste of my wares? Or just here for conversation?”

From (July 2014)

I Met Ezra

It’s been over 2 months now that I met Ezra Miller. Yes, our Ezra miller. Most fangirls would take to the internet immediately and start rehashing every detail, and considering I am the owner of his fansite (the first one ever on him) you would think I would be no exception, and probably the most excited fangirl ever.

The truth is that I am still processing everything. It doesn’t seem real to me. The situation was so coincidental and random that it really made me put a new perspective on Ezra, celebrity, fan sites, and myself.

I have been making fansites for a DECADE now, and one thing I realized is that the ‘myself’ category is rarely, if ever, there in this world. The webmasters (or webmisses, which seems to be the norm), rarely ever mention themselves in their posts, except to apologize for taking a hiatus. Their ‘job’ is to write down the celebrity’s every move, new photo, new project, new appearance, new quote, new rumor. They are always in service to this person, and the payoff (at least for me) has been the excitement of seeing these new career projects and appearances transpire, competing with other fansites, collecting photos (like Pokemon, you gotta catch ‘em all), and lets face it — living vicariously through this person.

Back in 2004, there was creativity, possibility, interaction with the fans like you don’t see as much today. Today it is too easy. Before you had to go to different sites and gather pieces of code and create something unique. Today you can set up the website in 5 seconds with WordPress, slab a few photos on pre-made templates, and call it your own. I have fallen very much victim to this laziness.

In 2004, you had to research the web high and low for ‘information’ on your celeb, had to go to your CVS and scan through all the teeny-bopper magazines, heart racing at the site of your him or her, then tear the page out when no one was looking and fold it in your Dickies purse in a way which wouldn’t bend it, scan it when the computer coast was clear, and then put it up on your site and call it exclusive. Now you can find said scans all over, and photos are reblogged, tagged, untagged, downloaded, uploaded, screenshotted, and photoshopped so much that nothing can really be ‘yours’ anymore. Fansites continuously steal from each other, when the original image belongs to someone who belongs to someone who belongs to someone anyways. The fun was in the finding, the searching, the creating.

But now the celebrities themselves tweet left and right and up and down and new photos and tweets come out several times a day. They almost normalize themselves to the level where you feel like they are your true friend, yet they are still revered and put on even higher pedestals.

There is almost something odd about knowing so much truth to the people that you idolize. Some things you don’t want to know. Sometimes you don’t want to know they are human. Sometimes you do … [really? You went to Oxford, you look fab in every picture, and you everyone likes you — can you please do something wrong? (well you’re actings only sub-par, but that’s besides the point).]

It’s come to the point where I’ve started to not like some of the celebrities I used to admire. There’s nothing interesting about perfection, and there’s certainly nothing exciting about a good role model (though it’s a good excuse to add legitimacy to your fan site, instead of just having one on someone you think is cute/hot/adorable/stylish/god-like). The more human these celebs are, the more likable they are. Anna Kendrick is probably one of the most likable celeb out there, and at the same time the most relatable, open, and honest. It’s as if she’s embarrassed about her celebrity. I met her after an episode of Craig Ferguson taping in L.A. where I was in the studio audience. I saw her after the show and blurted out that I ran her fan site (also the original Anna site 😉 )She was so nice and open, and genuinely excited about it. She said I could of course take a photo with her, but the planets were aligned in the wrong way and I realized that the security guards had taken all of our electronics away before we entered the set. Instead I hugged her and then ashamedly scampered away.

With Ezra, technology cursed me once again, yet the planets still aligned. I was literally having one of the worst days of my life. I was in New York city visiting with my boyfriend from out of the country. My boyfriend was doing touristy stuff, and we had just gotten kicked out of our hostel a day early, so I decided to go on a literary drinking tour of Greenwich village. I was running late and joined the tour at the White Horse Tavern, just as the woman was rehashing the infamous Dylan Thomas drinking story, where Dylan Thomas claimed he could drink sixteen shots of Whiskey before he passed out. On the way to the next venue, I trailed behind the group and took in the hipsterish Greenwich village. As a ‘webmiss,’ I am very aesthetically oriented, and make sure not to miss any detail. Greenwich village is sensory overload, and there is so much to look at in terms of parks, pooches, fashion, storefronts, subways, cafes etc that it got a little distracting. One store front had a sign that said PUPPIES. How the hell can you not stop? I stopped, fawned for a few seconds, and then when I looked up again, my tour group was completely gone. Instead, there were mobs of tourists, hipsters, new yawkas, and everyone else. I simply looked around and realized I was in the middle of a crowded city and didn’t know what the fuck i was doing or where I was going. I called the tour group and there was an answering machine. I called the bar and they yelled at me. I called my boyfriend and then my phone died. I wandered around and went to a park to sit in the grass and cry. Just as I was walking on the grass a lady jumped out and said I wasn’t allowed to walk on the grass. I didn’t know grass was just for looking at. I just wanted to be alone and so I ignored her and walked backwards on the grass in the opposite direction. She cornered me with her other old lady friend and they started yelling about how I wasn’t allowed on the grass. “Do you own this grass?” I asked. “Yes,” they said. I leaned down and grabbed some. “It’s just grass! Now leave me alone!” Then I looked up and saw the name of the park was the same as my last name — an old German name, pretty uncommon. Had to be a sign, right? I went somewhere else to cry privately. A quiet, colorful alleyway near a cutesy Mexican restaurant seemed perfect. That’s when I saw an adorable little dog and two hipsters sitting on the side of a graffitiied wall. I did a double take and looked at one of the hipsters — he was wearing purple heart-shaped glasses and had a mass of black hair with some white wisps. I recognized him before I asked the question, shocked — “Are you Ezra Miller?” He laughed and admitted that he indeed was.

“Wow, I wasn’t stalking you — I swear!” (I actually was surprised I wasn’t!).

Then I stomped my foot when I realized…

“Dammit, my phone just ran out of batteries.”

“Well, you’d be a bad stalker then,” he laughed.

With the threat of unwanted snaps out of the way, I believe he patted to a spot next to him and his friend and encouraged me to sit down. I could have imagined this, but someway or another I was sitting down next to them and we were all chatting. I’m usually a shy person, but the one exception is when i’m around celebrities. Even though I spend so long blogging about them, I can’t stop talking about myself when I’m around them. I told Michael Cera I was in lesbian with him. That’s another story. At any rate— i’m pretty sure I even interrupted Ezra a few times to talk about myself. He asked if I was really crying before I came there and I said yes, and told him the story about how I got here.

And then I knew I needed to admit that I had a fan site about him. And to tell you the truth, I was ashamed. Because, as I said, a fan site doesn’t require work like it did back in the day. A fan site now means I drool over photos of you and write about your every move. I didn’t want to scare him away, but I knew I had to tell him, because it wasn’t fair to pretend I didn’t ‘really’ know him. I prefaced it by saying there was someone thing weird that I had to say — but it wasn’t as weird as that one guy I read about in an interview that wrote to him about collecting his hair or whatever. They said whatever it was couldn’t be worse then what they were already both thinking it could be at that point. I hesitated, took a deep breath, and was about to admit it, when, conveniently, another tour group came by with some eclectic dude playing the violin and crying. Ezra said “Hey, I think I found your tour group. I assured him that that wash’t mine. I told him I had a fan site on him and there was what seemed like a long pause. And then he said “Which one?” and I told him He laughed and said “Oh, the organization?” And I told him a little bit about the background. He and his friend were both trying to quit smoking and told me they were dying for a cigarette (not sure if the craving was a total coincidence to the timing of my revelation). I asked him what he was doing lately and whether he fired his publicist because there hadn’t been any news or photos lately and he said no he’s just been taking it easy and enjoying his time off, but things will start up again soon with Madame Bovary promotion.

When I wasn’t shaking on the inside, I did manage to pick-up a few things that Ezra actually said. He said he thinks we (the fans) idealize him, build him up to be G/d like. That we should focus our energy on something greater than him. He thinks we made him up to be something that he never really can be. He thinks we (myself included) should focus energy on the real G/d or a greater form of art — why not make a cool personal blog? he suggested.

He said I should steer the conversation towards what he’d doing, and his campaigns (like with the Arctic). He wants it to be about his art, and what he believes in, but not about himself.
He said he didn’t want it to just be about girls gawking at how ‘pretty’ he was.

In many ways I completely agree. I told him that, even having a fan site on him was better than one for, say, Miley Cyrus, because it gets “kids” to look at his interviews and watch movies with a point, that they wouldn’t otherwise.

His friend assured me that my hobby wasn’t weird — if it made me happy, I should do it. I said I guess I thought it was weird because I didn’t know anyone else in person who made fansites in real life — just online.

Another fan spotted him from a few feet away and asked for a pic and he said no. She said he liked his work. He talked about how once one person notices him, it’s like they all did. I mentioned that his glasses were off now, and he put them back on. He said other celebs do the whole hat and glasses thing.

I asked about the fan site dilemma. Did he want be to take the site off? Did he want an official fan site (hey — it was worth a try!)

“No, no. I don’t want any of that.” He said to keep the sites, but respect his privacy.

(And I swear after my little boasting rampage of a story about how we met I will really start respecting it!)

He seemed to be very vexed about the idea of celebrity, and gave a great quote from Patti Smith’s memoir by Patti Smith. The problem, he said, was that the actors always wanted the fans and the press to concentrate on their work, but the fans and press always want to concentrate on the celebrities personal life.

I may have had tears in my eyes, he instructed me to pet his friend’s dog — that the dog was nervous. “Just cause she’s getting emotional doesn’t mean you have to also,” he comforted the shaking chihuahua mix.

Fangirl moment: SO SWEET!!!!

We talked about e-cigarettes and regular cigarettes. Ezra and his friend gave up on their 30-minute break and got some cigarettes from a non-suspecting passerby. I tried to tell him not to smoke, that us fans wanted him around for a while. I TRIED. For the record, I asked if he did hard drugs too (I was a little skeptical after the frog-in-the-pocket premiere look), and he genuinely said no — he was way passed that. He offered me his watermelon and coconut juice! (I said no, I didn’t want to contaminate it).

I told him that I knew he was nice, and everyone knew and was impressed by how well-spoken he was, but I didn’t realize how generous he really was. I am still in shock by it. [Celebrity or not, he really is an amazingly, sweet, generous, human being.]

I gave him my number on a dollar bill that I had. I didn’t have a pen in my purse so I used my favorite sparkly black eye liner. For a second I hesitated to use that, but then I remembered it was EZRA MILLER, and he had ASKED ME FOR MY PHONE NUMBER! (But just in case he needed to speak through the masses and get something across in some sort of fan-copalypse).

He said everything happened for a reason and everything was connected, and that I met him for a reason.

He said that now I knew him for real. I didn’t really know him before — I had (we all had) an idealized image of who he was.

Now I do know him for real, now I do know he is human — and I can vouch that Ezra, along with his friend are some of the greatest humans you will (well…I :p) will ever meet. They offered me comfort and companionship when I really needed it. They could have been weirded out by who I was and what I did (or not hid it so well) and treated me like the sub-human that I felt like. But they treated me like equals.

I will try and value Ezra’s privacy, and do my best to keep the site focused on his work and his campaigns. If you really love Ezra, you will do the same.

Fans, and especially fan site owners — I’d really be interested in your take on all of this. Please comment. Lets bring back the creativity, the conversation, and the community that there used to be in this ‘world’. Let’s focus on the ideas, and what these celebs bring to us through their art, not just swoon over their looks (but Ezra, I don’t know if you can really stop us from doing that at all, frog-in-pocket or not 😉 )

Happy’s Honey

Originally posted by myowndesiress

Author’s Note: This is a Happy Lowman imagine, based on Sugar by Maroon 5 and imagine #2 of Week 4, as requested by a wonderful Nonny, I hope you all enjoy. This one got away from me and somehow turned into something smutty/fluffy…I don’t even know. I hope it doesn’t disappoint. Rate M for some smut.

Happy’s Honey


I’m hurting, baby, I’m broken down
I need your loving, loving
I need it now
When I’m without you
I’m something weak
You got me begging, begging
I’m on my knees
I don’t wanna be needing your love
I just wanna be deep in your love
And it’s killing me when you’re away, ooh, baby,
‘Cause I really don’t care where you are
I just wanna be there where you are
And I gotta get one little taste

Your sugar
Yes, please
Won’t you come and put it down on me?
I’m right here, 'cause I need
Little love, a little sympathy
Yeah, you show me good loving
Make it alright
Need a little sweetness in my life
Your sugar
Yes, please
Won’t you come and put it down on me?


She smiles at the sound of the bike roaring just outside, and she doesn’t even have to lift her eyes to the clock on the wall. She knows what time it is, and dusting her hands over the apron tied to her waist she walks to the door and flips the lock, the bell hanging over head chiming when he pushes open the door.

Happy fills the doorway, his eyes immediately finding hers and when he steps inside, she counts the beats of her heart as the door closes behind him, her gaze staying on him even when she feels her pulse jump when he turns his back to her so he can flip the lock behind him.

“Anyone else here?” his voice is light when he turns back around, a smiling tugging at the corners of his mouth as he chews on a toothpick.

“Just me,” she keeps her voice light as she skirts back around the display case. They are cleaned and empty, no trace of the baked goods from the day to be seen. She was after all interrupted while prepping for the next day. She sets back to work, her hands working quickly to knead dough, but she nearly jumps out of her skin when his lips graze her ear.

“It’s closing time Honey,” he says, his hands coming to rest on her hips, and she sighs when he pulls her flush against him, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip when she feels his hard length pressing against her ass.

“Happy, we’ve been over this,” she says trying to keep her thoughts straight. “I have to finish this before I can leave.”

“Okay, we’ll do it your way,” he says and before she can register what he means he’s turning her towards him, his hands sliding down her arms to cuff her wrists, her lower back pressing against the counter. His mouth captures hers, and she’s drowning in him.

He leads her out of the kitchen and into the stock room, her hands lifted up over her head as he nips at her throat and she strains to drop her arms.

“Mmm, can’t have you getting flour all over me baby,” he murmurs as he works her apron off, and taking her mouth with his once more he sets to work on the clasp of her jeans, all too happy to swallow her gasp when his hand dips into her panties, fingers circling her clit. He groans against her throat, his teeth scraping where her pulse hammers. “Already so wet for me Honey.”

“Fuck,” she pants her head dropping back as her hips roll against his hand, “Happy, please.”


He wakes slow, and turning he finds the spot beside him empty. He stifles a yawn and glances at the clock on the nightstand.

5:15 a.m.

He can already hear her busily working downstairs, and because he knows he isn’t going to be able to go back to sleep without her he slides out of her bed. He takes in the size of her room, and shakes his head. She runs a successful bakery and he knows she pulls in a decent amount, yet she insists on staying in the impossibly small apartment above it.

He hates it.

She deserves something better. Something more.

The thought startles him as he steps into her shower letting the hot water run over his head, but he swallows the panic, after all he knew from the moment he started sneaking into her bed this is where things were heading.


He strolls into the clubhouse at half past six, and setting the powder blue box on the table he watches as his brother’s eyes widen in delight before tearing into the goodies tucked within.

“Why didn’t you say you were going to Honey’s,” Bobbie asks carefully selecting a cinnamon roll, and giving a shrug of his shoulder Happy settles at the table.

“Because he wouldn’t have had any room on the bike for himself if we’d given him an order,” Jax says around a mouthful and the truth of the statement draws collective laughter.

“Hap,” Opie’s eyes narrow at him, “is that flour on your shoulder?”


My broken pieces
You pick them up
Don’t leave me hanging, hanging
Come give me some
When I’m without ya
I’m so insecure
You are the one thing, one thing
I’m living for
I don’t wanna be needing your love
I just wanna be deep in your love
And it’s killing me when you’re away, ooh, baby,
'Cause I really don’t care where you are
I just wanna be there where you are
And I gotta get one little taste

Your sugar
Yes, please
Won’t you come and put it down on me?
I’m right here,
'Cause I need
Little love, a little sympathy
Yeah, you show me good loving
Make it alright
Need a little sweetness in my life
Your sugar! (sugar!)
Yes, please (yes, please)
Won’t you come and put it down on me?


She flips the closed sign, taking one more sweep with her eyes to the deserted store front. There’s no sign of Happy tonight, and while they don’t spend every night together, he usually sends a message to let her know. Letting out a soft sigh she turns out the lights.

Their relationship leaves her confused more often than not. She knows who he is, what he does. She’s lived in Charming long enough to gain some understanding over how things work with the Sons, and while she is certainly nothing like the women who hang around the club, she can’t help but wonder if that’s why he’s never brought her around; or at the very least brought some of his friends to meet her.

She fights the tears, refusing to let herself fall apart. She may be in love with him, but she’ll be damned if she’s going to be reduced to a cliché because of it. Halfway up the stairs to her apartment she hears the pounding on the door, and without a thought she runs back down, and with the flip of the light she finds Happy on the other side of the door.

She recognizes the look on his face, and flipping the lock she pulls the door open, her arms circling him. He hugs her so tight she swears her bones grind against each other, but she doesn’t say anything, she just lets him hold on for as long as he needs, and when at last his hold loosens she takes him by the hand and leads him upstairs.


He watches her as she works. She doesn’t say a word as she unzips his sweater, pushing it from his shoulders, and her eyes meet his only once when she starts to help him from his Cut, and with curiosity blooming he watches how she doesn’t just toss the leather onto the floor with the sweater; instead she crosses to the closet and after a moment of rooting around she produces a hanger which she uses to hang his Cut up beside her coat. She turns back to him, he hands coming up to cup his face and turning it from side to side he knows she’s assessing how bad it is.

“Good news, you won’t need stitches,” she says finally breaking up the silence. “A few butterfly bandages should do the trick.”

He doesn’t say anything he just keeps watching her as she disappears into the bathroom and when she comes back out she has a first aid kit in hand. She positions herself between his legs, tipping his head back and to the side, and with a smile she presses a disinfectant pad to the torn skin. He lets out a hiss of pain between clenched teeth and she offers a soft smile.

“The last time I told you I was going to use this on you, you acted like a baby about it,” she says and because he remembers it just as well as she does all he can do is smile. She hums as she cleans him up and when she’s done she presses a soft kiss to each bandage. “I imagine you’ll want a shower. I can heat up some left overs for you.”

She starts to turn away from him but he snags her hand pulling him back towards him, and because he craves the closeness he presses his face to her chest, his arms coming around her, and she lets him hold on. No questions asked.


I want that red velvet
I want that sugar sweet
Don’t let nobody touch it
Unless that somebody’s me
I gotta be your man
There ain’t no other way
'Cause girl you’re hotter than a southern California day

I don’t wanna play no games
You don’t gotta be afraid
Don’t give me all that shy shit
No make-up on
That’s my

Yes, please (please)
Won’t you come and put it down on me (down on me)?
I’m right here (right here), 'cause I need ('cause I need)
Little love, a little sympathy
So, baby, (yeah) you show me good loving
Make it alright
Need a little sweetness in my life
Your sugar! (sugar!)
Yes, please (yes, please)
Won’t you come and put it down on me?
Yes, please
Won’t you come and put it down on me?
I’m right here, 'cause I need
Little love, a little sympathy
Yeah, you show me good loving
Make it alright
Need a little sweetness in my life


He wakes when he feels her shift in bed beside him. He can tell what time it is without even looking at the clock, but before she can get out of bed, he’s rolling over and pinning her to the mattress. Her voice is soft and thick with sleep as she presses her lips to his bare shoulder.

Last night wasn’t the first time he shared a bed with her without there being anything more than holding one another; but for him it was the most profound. She’s been one of the most consistent parts of his life, why it’s taken him this long to realize it, he doesn’t know.

“Happy, I have to get up,” she says her hands coming up to cover her face, but he just shakes his head pulling her hands back down so he can stare at her. She is easily hands down the most beautiful woman he’s laid eyes on, outside of his own mother of course, and he hates that he hasn’t told her that enough.

“Not today Honey,” he says the seriousness in his voice making her eyebrows draw together. “Have one of the other girls open. I want you to come meet my family.”


Your sugar! (sugar!)
Yes, please (yes, please)
Won’t you come and put it down on me? (down on me, down on me)


My Favorite Baker

By @titaniasfics

Beta’d by the most amazing @eala-musings, @thegirlfromoverthepond and @akai-echo. Thank you, ladies!

Prompt: Day 1, Snow

Pairing: Everlark; Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark

Rating: T


Katniss took more time than ever getting ready for work that morning.

It could certainly be blamed on the incremental chill that crept into the air as the days wore on towards Christmas. The smell of snow nipped at her each time she stepped outside and the wind blew bitterly across the Hudson River, which wound its serpentine path around the towns that grew up along its shores.

But she’d bought the elegant, green turtle neck and the matching scarf and hat set on a special whim the previous afternoon because, for the first time in, well, ever, Katniss Everdeen wanted to feel pretty.

Keep reading

I drove across Sinai from Cairo, which is crumbling. Sheep on the streets, buildings falling down, giant slums, poor education, nice food only for the very rich, streets covered in garbage, majority of the country is poor.

Went to Israel. Saw a city much like any city in Europe. Clean streets. Beautiful big store fronts. Sidewalks. Nice signs telling you where to go. Little stands and shops everywhere. Great food from around the world. Pastries, pizza. It was Europe, basically. I loved it. It was very clean! It was great.

You have to drive some distance out of Jerusalem to get to the wall. It is a nice drive past pastures and rolling hills with bushes and trees on them.

The wall is very tall. It is made of concrete. At the top there are guard posts with glass. There is barbed wire, even though the wall is far too high to get over. There are men with guns.

When you go through it, you are asked many questions about who you are and where you come from. If you have anything Arab about you this questioning is very long it can take several hours. You are brought through many layers of security, the inside of the wall is like a fort. You go back and force through a maze of metal bars, with many security cameras watching you. The bars look like the bars used to hold cattle at a rodeo.

You exit and on the other side is a tall wire fence covered with barbed wire. There is graffiti all over the wall. The buildings are crumbling. No nice food, streets made of dirt, everyone is poor.

There are men waiting to be taxi drivers, I went with one. He showed me an ID card with a picture of a baby on it. He told me a story.

“This is my son. You know how I got this card?”

“My son was born with a problem in his arm, and they said that if his arm wasn’t operated on he would lose the arm. We don’t have that kind of hospital here, so I have to go across into Jerusalem to see the doctor. So I go to the Fence.”

“The man at the fence won’t let me through. He says that I can’t bring through any person without a card. He is referring to my son, who is a new born. He didn’t have a card.”

“So I say to him, where do I get the card? He says you must get the card in Jerusalem.”

“I say let me through then I will get the card and leave my son with my wife. He says that won’t work, a person must be present to have fingerprints and a photo and so on in order to get the card.”

“I say how will my son get the card if he cannot travel through the fence to get the card?”

“He told me I was holding up the line, and my son never got the surgery, he lost his arm.”

He passed me the card, he said it was fake, and he didn’t have the courage to try it out, because you could be put in prison for such a thing.

He had to choose between making his son grow up without an arm or without a father. The card was so poorly done. It was obviously fake.

We got up to the top of this hill, and he pointed out at these buildings coming over the hills, he said they were settlements, and they took over 3 more hills in the last few months. These were very nice buildings. Developments.

I went back to Israel that night, and I went to a waffle store. They had every kind of waffle. Chocolate waffle, ice cream waffle, Nutella. Anything. Any kind of fruit and so on. The taxis are really nice there they have meters, they don’t clunk when they start. The monuments are lit up at night. There are little plaques at every monument that tell you the history in English and Hebrew and Russian and Italian.

When I took the bus back, I sat next to a young girl who had a phone with rhinestones glued to it in a heart shape, and a beanie baby on a key chain. She had a ponytail, she was texting and wearing an army uniform. She had a grenade launcher in the seat next to her. The bus stopped several times and the Palestinians were made to get off and be searched. Their bags were taken off the bus and dumped out, and the soldiers kicked through their belongings at the side of the road and we sat inside the bus and watched and they passed out snacks.

It was absolutely banal, but the whole thing chilled me, and I realized that this was the country at the center of American foreign policy, and this was the beacon of democracy, and I realized that these were the supposed “good guys,” and I just thought that it wasn’t fucking right, and that Christians should be embarrassed because Jesus wouldn’t have stood for any of this.

TL:DR; I think every American history teacher should be forced to walk around in Jerusalem, then go through the wall to Bethlehem and walk around in Palestine before teaching students that colonialism is something that “used to” happen.
—  [Reddit]

anonymous asked:

We are dropping by the minute! Sh00t are nearly at 50% and we just about have 48%

I knoooowww I am watching this for hours, I start to see store fronts and street signs everywhere and it feels like every time I vote we only sink further. We were 3% ahead 12 hours ago guys!

Clexakru, we need to catch up!

These are the final hours of voting for  Clexa as Best Couple!

Voting will end 5pm PST / 8pm EDT / 2am CEST

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