strange timing but whatever

Creepypasta #1057: The Girl

Length: Long

She was one of those people that you could swear you’ve met before, but you don’t remember when. She tugged at my memory like a person you had a few high school classes with, but never had more than a few conversations. She had a round face, with soft cheekbones and bright brown eyes. Her lips were perpetually hinting at a smile that never seemed to fully blossom. She had a full, curvy figure, and the way she moved in her short summer dress had a subtle seductiveness that was far more attractive than her appearance alone.

The party we were at was slowly winding down. The host had disappeared with some girl, or had otherwise ditched entirely, and he took the energy of the party with him. As I was looking for the keys to my car, she approached me. “Hey, I have some rum back at my place. Want to come drink with me?” she said.

“Sure,” I replied. “Let me find my keys, I was about to leave anyway. Do you need a ride?”

“No,” she said, as she grabbed my phone and typed in her address. “Just meet me here, I’ll be home in 15 minutes.”

“Perfect,” I said, thinking that I had just enough time to run home and grab some deodorant and mouthwash before heading over.

I drove home and freshened up, then took my dog for a walk to kill a little more time. Didn’t want to beat her home, and I suspected she might want a minute to herself too. After about 15 minutes, I drove over to her house.

It was nothing spectacular, just your standard suburban home. The lawn needed to be mowed, and there was a little trash in the yard, but I chalked that up to college kid’s general apathy. I knocked on the door, and she let me in.

The inside of the house was comfortable, a big couch dominated the living room, and sat opposite a large TV. The kitchen was situated behind the couch and a hallway led from the living room to three bedrooms. As I sat down on the couch, she offered me a shot of rum and drank one herself. I drank my shot and poured each of us another.

“I thought we could Netflix and chill for a while, if that’s alright with you,” she said with a smirk.

“Sounds good to me. Do you like horror movies?” I said, figuring horror movies would be the easiest way to get her close to me.

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To Take (Pt.1)

Summary: With all your memories gone, and the sudden information that you are now a vampire–who do you trust? Do you trust your mind that says to hate Yoongi? Or your heart that says you could never? 


Anonymous said:

 Could I request a Yoongi vampire AU scenario where he’s the vampire prince and you’re a human he’s chosen to be his so he turns you to be with him and you have to move into the castle and all that, and you start out hating him despite him trying to make you like him through kind/sweet actions and gifts because you didn’t want to be turn and you keep rejecting him, until you eventually fall in love with him too? 


“Y/N, what would you do if I said that I wasn’t human?”

You grinned at him, reaching for his hand. “What would you do if I said that I already knew that?”

He let out a breath through his teeth, and, with pain in his eyes, his hand tightened around yours. “Why did it have to be you?”

You woke up to morning light leaking through curtains that looked expensive–but maybe weren’t. The comforter on the bed, though soft, seemed to swallow you whole. You thought that maybe the bed could have been yours, but you weren’t sure; there was a sneaking suspicion in your otherwise confused state that had you believing that you didn’t belong there.  The elegant yet ancient brick of the walls of your room appeared semi-foreign to you–this was not the home that you had lived your entire life in, but you’d been there before.

Well, it wasn’t like you were sure that you didn’t live there; you couldn’t remember your past, how old you were, what your house might have looked like, the country you were in, or even your name. The only memories that survived in your blanked out brain included a young boy with dark hair, expensive children’s clothing, fangs, and a bright red ball.

“Y/N–you’re awake.” You shot up into a sitting position, turning to face the owner of the voice. His hair was slicked back and dyed a light pink, and, like the young boy from your memories, he wore expensive looking clothing: a suit collared up to his neck; it appeared to be made out of fabric that would be more suitable for palace curtains. For some reason, when he opened his mouth, you expected there to be fangs.

There weren’t.

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anyways i love pansy & luna like?? they don;t even have to be dating theyd be great friends???

  • one am phone calls or floo messages or something because luna never sleeps and pansy is biting her freshly manicured nails because of a test, or something that seems inherently ridiculous after five minutes on the phone with luna’s soft, steady voice
  • pansy shutting down boys who keep bulling luna by dangling secrets and spitting sharp words, luna basking in her glinting eyes and the safeness of being by pansy’s side, because it feels like no one can touch her
  • luna gives pansy pressed pansies in letters over the summer, telling her about the adventures she’s gone on to find proof of the crumple-horned snorkack because pansy gets so lonely in the summer, in an empty house
  • pansy drawing pictures of the world for luna, because her mother thought it was feminine and sophisticated to be able to paint (and thus spent too much money on art lessons) and luna taking pansy to muggle art museums to admire the art
  • luna drawing pictures for pansy, not delicately sketched, like pansy’s own refined style, but art, messy and abstract and poetic and pansy keeps them in a chest in her room, locked under her bed because they’re sacred and she doesn’t want her mother to touch them
  • pansy teasing luna about being weird, but at the same time, ready to listen to whatever strange theory she’s come up with, being snarky and pansy, because in whatever friendship, she’ll always be a little too cruel, a little too sharp, but luna sees past her cutting tone and can feel the softness that resides behind it
  • luna being able to understand pansy and her cruelty, her bulling, her unkindness, to see why she does it and when she means it and when she doesn’t and helping pansy grow, because pansy is cruel because she is afraid
  • just,, pansy and luna giving each other simple things, like unconditional love and happiness and protection and finding warmth in one another

After what feels like foreveeeeeer…. I’M BACK \O/ and what brought me back? PANCAKES!! lmao

I’m still trying to breathe and I was so freaked out that I forgot my password and tried 10 times lol but i’m HEREEEEE


Vortex Club Energy

Fandom: Life is Strange
Pairing: Grahamfield (Max Caulfield/Warren Graham)
Rating: Uh… T? M? It doesn’t go all the way, but there’s a sexually charged situation I guess you could call it? I’m embarrassed, don’t look at me. It might be worth mentioning that no clothing is removed.
Warnings: I’m such trash I only remembered this while making this post but Warren is under-age for the US… whoops… if that upsets you, turn back now. Also, I might have implied that alcohol is involved but that’s up to interpretation.
Words: 1,150

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anonymous asked:

To Byakuya and Kirigiri, have either of you encountered Izuru before his capture? And if so, how did it go?

I haven’t.

Me neither and actually he was the one who came to us once we had captured all the others. We thought it was strange at that time but we believed that whatever reasons he might have had to do that would be erased thanks to the simulation.

But in the end it ends up being one of our biggest errors.

Imagine Bones and Spock having to wait for Jim before going into some important meeting and Bones gets very bored so he just up and boops Spock’s nose and after that instead of paying attention to the meeting Spock spends the whole time trying to figure out whatever strange human custom he was just a part of.

MODS NOTE - ill have you know, theasgardiandetective, that ive been staring at this doodle for like ten minutes ‘awwh'ing at my computer screen thank you SO MUCH


sweater weather art expiriment

What I know is that I want to be loved and I don’t want to be left behind.

After leaving, what is there? What could be done? Never enough to simply bridge the gap, retrace steps, find again the old, familiar places, wipe away the dust.

The Japanese have a technique of repairing cracked pottery with gold, so that after its misfortune it is more beautiful than ever. This could be the same- a story worth telling, the fissures, the breaking and the going away, the finding again, reforged softbright, full of grace.

But gold is the weakest metal, and the bowl or cup is no stronger for being more interesting. Dust still settles.

Only if it had never happened at all. If I had been different. If there had been no cracks, no history.

No, better not.

—  “kintsugi”

juulna-deactivated20161228  asked:

Reylux prompt: Rey, sharing a force bond with Kylo, shares a completely unexpected dream of his (you can describe the dream, or just imply), of Kylo... and Hux. She finds she likes it very much.

oh lord ok took this to a way different/way weirder place, i’m so sorry

tw for gender dysphoria, maybe??

also: i wrote half of this at two thirty in the morning so 

This happens, sometimes. 

Rey doesn’t precisely know how to deal with it. How to wake up shaded beneath Anch-To’s slate-grey, shelving cliffs, wriggling with something in her belly that’s much too hot for hunger, a cooling wetness between her legs. How to explain the flush that stains her cheeks and neck to Luke when they meet for breakfast, her sated sleepiness, the hum in her bones. The satisfaction

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