untouchables*

Blue. the sky, the ocean, all the world’s unexplored vastness. untouchable beauty and a powerful tide. her dress on the first night out, jumping into a lake at night. the sight of the entire universe before you. calm.

Green. the land, the growth, all that’s known. stability for the seas. the street light as you’re driving out of town. the feeling of grass beneath your feet in a new place. freedom to belong.

Yellow. the brightness of the sun, shining on. a new awakening.  a field of flowers after a wrong turn, a signal to slow down. a warning sign. cautionary happiness.

Orange. a fiery passion, an expansion. a phoenix, rising from ashes and becoming again. the sky after a long, never ending day. a vast canyon, reaching for miles. the neon vacancy sign welcomes you. hope.

Pink. a delicacy, the balance between power and reserve. the morning sky and a new beginning, every day. the lipstick that you borrowed from a friend and your beloved pet’s nose. love.

Gray. a looming sadness and a forlorn sky. the moments before the storm and the feelings after. a vibrancy and ethereal peace. the long, empty road reaching for miles. a world of possibility. risk.

military-shop-untouchable asked:

“Do you need me to kill someone for you?”

The bluenette fool took a few minutes to think. Perhaps there could be one person he could kill yes there was one person that came to mind, he knew it was meant to be a joke but he couldn’t help but think about one person he would enjoy watching parish.

Although it was going to be difficult to describe him so the fool had to really think about this. After several more minutes of concentrated thinking he finally thought of the best way to describe this odd individual.

[{ - “Hmm I guess there is someone you could take down.. A brief pause.

He’s got long hair, a bunch of tattoo’s and wears bell bottoms and kinda looks like some bad version of a hippy vampire that uses a revolver.

I walk the same streets but
Beneath my sheets
I sleep in a reality untouched.
My skin burns with cold
Prickling under the ice of a room impregnated with tears
Dripping
Slowly
From the unseen walls
Decorated in the lucid colours of
A facade of interest.

I hide my head under my pillow
To search in lost dreams for
The touch of your hand,
To find the hope that you’ll step the boundary
To be the world all consuming
I find myself in.

The One Where John Hates the Taste of Coffee

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/23TI0bA

by liveindenver

Sherlock is a barista. John is in medschool.

Words: 5175, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English



read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/23TI0bA
What Mirei has to do.

Okay so anime spoilers but maybe not huge ones, in episode 82 Mirei becomes determined she will be in the Dream Parade. The Dream Parade has basically been untouched since the first episode but if that explanation is still true then basically it is the final, last event in which only the overall winning team of all the Grandprix can participate.

Last we knew Mirei was a  Major Class Favorite Idol. If arcade rules hold true, this means she needs 1,600,000 iine to become Top Class, which she somehow has to obtain in the basement… yeah. Then she needs to get a team together with a performance that can not only beat Hibiki’s but also beat all the other teams on the past since she wasn’t a part of any of them. So she has to beat not only whatever Hibiki’s Spring Grandprix performance is but Wonderpri World as well… well… good luck!

a letter

A letter to an inspiration. 

———————-

Dear you,

We had to do this for a sociology assignment. We had to write a letter to someone who has greatly influenced us and inspired us. My mother already knows how she’s inspired me, but I don’t think you know…the full details of how you’ve influenced me.
Yes, I’ve told you over and over why you’ve been such a good friend to me, but I don’t know if I’ve really told you the full detail of it.

It started off before our friendship even existed. You only vaguely knew I existed, and I looked up to you as an artist. You were high up on this pedestal, surrounded by people who adored your work, and I, I was so shy. To me, you were this awesome person who was untouchable. Before we were friends, you were an idol and an inspiration. Little by little, we talked more, and before I even knew what was happening, we were friends.

Yeah, you probably know who I’m talking about at this point. These events sound familiar to you, right? If they do, this letter is for you. Yeah, I know, big surprise, right? I’m always doing this, haha. But due to obligation because of my class and my own personal gratitude to you, this letter is for you.

You taught me the magic of having a long-distance friendship. We live approximately 760 miles away from each other, trust me, I checked, yet I experience a type of closeness I haven’t really felt with other people. It added a special type of magic to it all.

You inspired me each and every day to push myself as an artist and improve. On days I feel like it’s not worth it to keep creating, you’ve been right there to push me back.


You’ve been there during my fits of anxiety, my self-deprecating thoughts, my nights of panic and stress and tears that you couldn’t see. You were there on all the bad nights, patiently calming me down and supporting me, reminding me of what was important, and that I could get through anything.

You’ve helped me with my trich. While it has still been an immense struggle, the very thought of you gives me the strength to try and stop pulling again. I do have that goal, do you remember it?


We may talk a little less due to schedules and other matters, but it by no means means we’re any less close. You continue to help me, inspire me, and push me to be a better person. I cannot imagine what my life would be like if you weren’t in it. I wouldn’t be the artist I am today, I wouldn’t be the person I am today, if I didn’t have you in my life. You’re my inspiration, my strength, and one of my best friends. Thank you for lighting up my life in the way you have. I love you so much.

-Erika

{ Welcometoaltima }

@welcometoaltima

The problem with the Prince of Mirkwood leading most of the raids against the spiders was that every now and then things did not go as planned, and Legolas came back injured. It did not happen often, due to Legolas’ insistence that the guard put in more and more training hours with each moon, sharpening their senses and quickening their reflexes. 

But even the best soldiers made mistakes.

Walking into his father’s halls with only a slight limp to betray his untouched facade, Legolas was able to put on a brilliant smile for the king and his lover, who was only a step behind to welcome him home.

“We have burned the nest. It should buy us a few moons at least.”

Okay, so maybe sorting through boxes upon boxes of family history was a good idea at first. But she should have been watching just how much she was unpacking. Soon enough the aisle was filled with folders, most appearing to be untouched since they were packed away. Phoebe had just cracked open the Warrens folder when she heard someone else enter. Peeking her head around the corner she called out. “Can I help you with something?”

gentle warm breeze through my hair

need to get away..feel that crisp fresh air

feel the grainy pink sand

embrace the luxury of untouched land

i want to be at ease

shut everything off..and just be

no worries, no rush

sit back and watch the waves crush

(the header is courtesy of @hello-tyleroakley-is-my-queen!)

Ahh hi guys, so I wanted to create a meetup showcasing the natural beauty of everyone here!

Who can participate: Anyone! The point of this meetup is to showcase everyone’s natural beauty so please no makeup or filters! (Even though you all look gorgeous with or without them!

Where?:Right here on tumblr

When?:Saturday, February 13-Sunday

1 PM EST-1PM EST (Sunday) (http://www.timeanddate.com/worldclock/converter.html) - so that you can see when this is where you live!

I look forward to seeing everyone participate!

Also, please tag your posts with #untouchedmeetup and #phandom tumblr meetup!
Untouchable

Characters: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Cursing. Dean being kind of an asshole.

A/N: This is part 1 of a new series! Here’s the deal. I have an awful habit of following through with series but I gain more steam for a series if I know people are interested so I’m only gonna continue this if it gets a decent amount of attention. If it doesn’t look like people are really into it, I’m just gonna take it down and pretend none of this ever happened, lol! Enjoy!

**Flashback memories are in italics


“Tell me about when we met.”

Dean was sitting across from you, the thick library table separating you but not so much that you couldn’t reach out and touch each other if you wanted…if you were able.

Dean pushed a hand through his mussed up blond hair, his fingers carding through the strands and making them stick out at different angles. He looked up at you, your eyes warm but twinged with a hint of sadness.

“You were there,” he said with a chuckle. “You know that story just as well as I do.”

The side of your mouth quirked up, the smile not quite meeting your eyes.

“Yeah, but tell me anyways.”

He never could tell you no.

“Okay.”


The bar was packed. It was clear after stepping foot inside that Sam didn’t want to be here and he told Dean as much after scanning the room for about two point five seconds.

“This place is too crowded. Can we just go?”

Dean made his way to the bar knowing Sam would follow despite his protests, and wedged himself between two patrons as he signaled for the bartender to order him and Sam a beer. He paid and plucked up both bottles, one in each hand, and turned back to his brother with his peace offering.

“How about this,” he conceded and handed Sam his beer, “One drink and then we’ll go. I just don’t want to be cooped up in a stuffy motel room just yet.”

Sam nodded and was already sipping at his drink as Dean began weaving through the throngs of people, loud music thumping overhead with bass loud enough to feel the vibrations in his chest.

He spotted a table a few yards away, a high top with two cushioned bar stools next to a group of girls that were huddled around their table, a shot glass in each of their hands as they toasted to what looked to be some lucky bride’s last night as a single lady. All the girls were dressed to the nines, all high heels and short skirts. The bride-to-be was wearing a cheap, plastic tiara with gaudy little rhinestones and a sash hanging from her shoulder to her hip with the phrase ‘Final Fling Before the Ring’ emblazoned in bright, glittery pink script.

From where Dean sat at the table he could see the group of women out of the corner of his eye. He mostly ignored them but he was Dean Winchester and they were gorgeous women, so his eyes wandered every so often in their direction, casually perusing the bunch before turning his attention back to Sam.  

“Looks like that bride over there is gonna be taking full advantage of her last night as a single woman,” he muttered around the mouth of his beer bottle.

“Why do you say that,” asked Sam as he flagged down a waitress and signaled for another round. Dean smiled at that.

“She’s just showing off a little too much skin for a woman whose supposed to be getting married soon. If she’s so in love you’d think she’d have a little more respect for the dude she’s marrying.”

Sam stiffened in his seat a little and glanced at the girl of topic before turning back to Dean. “I don’t think it matters much how she’s dressed as long as she behaves herself, Dean. You can’t judge a girl’s personality based on what she wears.”

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam’s complete inability to engage in a little harmless locker room talk. “Listen, all I’m saying is I’d bet money that if I walked over there right now and laid on the ol’ Winchester charm, she’d be begging to come home with me tonight.”

It was Sam’s turn to roll his eyes but Dean didn’t miss the way the corners of his mouth pulled up as he tried to hold back a smile. He knew the effect that Dean had on women. Hell, when Sam put his mind to it he was pretty lethal in that department too. Girls always fell for that sweet puppy dog look of his.

“Hey, asshole!”

Dean’s back stiffened at the sound of one of the women from the next table shouting at him. His eyes shot up to Sam who was watching him with a look of mild panic at getting caught in that particular topic of conversation. But the woman wasn’t focused on Sam, she was focused on Dean and made it all the more obvious by poking a slender finger harshly into his upper arm in an attempt to gain his attention.

Dean took a breath and painted on his sexiest smile, ready to smooth talk his way out of trouble before turning towards the woman. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped short, mouth hanging open a little when he caught sight of her.

She was fucking gorgeous. Her eyes caught his attention first, all stormy with anger but mesmerizing all the same. They were staring hard at him with a look that said 'I will kick your ass and won’t even chip my nail polish’. Her lips were bright red and looked soft enough to kiss. He had to avert his stare after a moment to avoid thinking about all the places that lipstick of hers would look good smudged on. His gaze traveled downward, skating over her tight black dress that clung to her shapely hips and showed just enough cleavage to make his mouth go a little dry. The black satin stopped just short of the middle of a pair of sexy as hell thighs and by then Dean couldn’t quite remember what they were talking about in the first place.

“Hey buddy, eyes up here.”

Dean snapped his head up, his eyes colliding with hers again but he still hadn’t managed to come up with anything to say in response but she had no problem filling up the silence.

“Did you just bet that you could get my wonderful, happily engaged friend, into bed with you?” she growled, her army of girlfriends standing behind her, some giggling behind the hands covering their mouth, some with their arms folded across their chests and staring daggers at him.

She didn’t give him a chance to respond before speaking again, clearly not interested in whatever half-assed excuse he had for making such a comment. Her hands landed on her hips and she took a step closer until she was in the realm of his personal space, the lower height of the stool Dean sat on bringing him down to just about her height level. His eyebrows flew up in surprise. He wasn’t used to feeling so off balance because of an angry woman.

“Just because you have a pretty face does not mean you are God’s gift to the world. So go fuck yourself, because you can bet none of us will.”

She backed off then, ruby red lips curled up into a self satisfied grin, leaving Dean momentarily dumbstruck in his chair. Off to the side Sam’s eyes were aimed down towards the table, his chin tucked against his chest and a fist pressed to his lips as he tried to stave off a quiet fit of laughter at watching his brother have his ass handed to him by a woman in platform pumps.

There was no way he was going to let it end like that. Dean was angry now. He wasn’t about to let  some prissy little thing call him out in front of half the bar without at least giving it as good as he got. Dean Winchester didn’t back down from a fight, even a verbal one with a pretty girl. He pursed his lips, his cocky grin from earlier taking it’s place on his face once again and igniting a fiery glint in his eye.

“Now don’t get all upset, sweetheart, just because I wanted to take your friend home and not you.”

He knew that wasn’t the reason for her tantrum but it hit a nerve all the same and he felt immense satisfaction at the way she froze at his words, her perfectly manicured fingers curling into fists at her sides. She whipped around and Dean was ready for whatever insult she hurled at him. What he didn’t expect though, was for the thing hurled at him to be her fist.

And man, did she have a mean right hook.

The pain from the impact shot across Dean’s jaw and before he could even blink her drink was being thrown in his face, tequila and something strawberry flavored burning his nose and eyes.

“Jesus fuck!” he gritted out as he wiped at his eyes with his shirt sleeve and when they were clear enough to see he looked up and the group of women were already making their way towards the door. He caught sight of them just in time to see the woman who’d hit him shoot him a cocky smirk before strutting out of the building, the clicking of her high heels on the wooden floor taunting him on her way out.


“I still can’t believe you punched me,” Dean laughed.

“Well, to be fair, you kinda deserved it.”

Your laughs died down, your smiles falling after it. You could see the tension creep back into Dean’s muscles, his jaw tight and tense, his hands flexing against the tables shiny surface. The silence in the room was deafening, filled with more questions than answers, thick with apprehension and uneasiness.

“We’re gonna figure this out, Y/N. I’ll do whatever it takes.” Dean’s eyes were trained on you, watching you, full of sincerity and determination but you could see a hint of doubt lingering just beneath the surface. You nodded and out of habit lifted your hand to reach for his. But then you stopped, your hand hovering an inch or two above his, before dropping it back to the table in front of you and lacing your fingers together tightly.

Dean’s gaze dropped to your hands before scrubbing his own over his face and for a moment, while his focus was elsewhere, you let yourself wonder how the hell you were going to get out of this mess.

anonymous asked:

Please more coming untouched ficlets? Derek dirty talking into stiles ear, with the boy pressed against his chest, sitting on their bed. Stiles hands flex as they fight to stay on Dereks thighs. And Derek being so fricking amazed he gets this. And that he's good at this. That stiles is SO hot for his broken bod. Omg. All the feels!

YES, nonnie. Yes. 

YES.

YEEEEEEES.

Yesssssssssssssss.

Leave me here to die.