wearing the lilac

plot idea: PLs a hot as fuck high school music teacher who never really got out of his leather jacket and biker phase and used to be in a band but now teaches high school students what real music is and is notorious for being arrogant and vv sarcastic and a kindergarden teacher who loves kids and wears lilac/pink/purple color cotton shirts and smooth pants and is cute as a button and imagine him teaching the kids to make flower crowns and music teacher sees a flower crown on him and smirks and teases him about how cute he looks

do not add conversation while reblogging please

she is soft like grass and
honeybees; you are
born from wishbones and
popsicle stick jokes.
she grows lavender and sweet peas in her garden.
you drink from the hose and
she laughs.
it sounds like fireflies.

in september she wears
burgundy and gold.
you wear your heart in your throat.
when the aster blooms,
you tell her that it reminds you of her.
you don’t tell her
that everything else does,

it doesn’t snow here.
that doesn’t stop her from sliding down hills
on lunch trays, tumbling breathless to your feet.
she grabs your wrist.
she can feel your pulse even through your gloves,
she says,
and tucks a violet behind your ear.
you can see her breath.

it is time to thaw.
you wear honey chapstick
and bring her lilacs.
she is new and sweet and gentle,
you kiss her
behind the church on easter.
she is patient, she is kind. you are
finally in bloom.

blossom by wynne rosehymns

im here

Title: I’m Here

Warnings: none i think

AN: Thank you @cripplingpastels for this prompt, (I may have altered a little bit but I hope its what you’re looking for! (Also I’m crap at titles) (Also I’m so fucking busy there si so much homework and I’m so dead but there is this week and next week left of school THEN ILL FILL IN PROMPTS I PROMISE)

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There is one scene I really want/wish to happen in ToG6.

It is when all the girls are getting ready to go out to the Harvest Moon Festival.
Aelin wearing pure gold with gems like stars in her hair twinkling with light.
Elide wearing soft white chiffon and pearl earrings bringing out the lovely radiance of her eyes.
Lysandra wearing lilac lace ever so sultry and elegant showing wonders of her toned back.
Manon wearing velvet blood red revealing more of her cleavage than most women dared. To hell she was a witch.
Nesryn wearing royal blue, stark against her coal lined eyes. Accented with luscious maroon lips.
Ansel wearing saffron in a fine two piece that fitted and hugged every curve of her body. Going great with that glorious red hair of hers in loose waves.
Asterin wearing flowing sky blue, she even dared to go bare feet. Her dress glided in the breeze spilling at her feet like a wave. With a slit on the side exposing her naked legs.
Evangeline wearing pastel pink where many tones of blush interwoven to look like dreamy, sweet clouds with flowers in her hair. In fact they all have flowers in their hair after Evangeline pestered them to, saying she spent all afternoon making flower crowns and had been stung by a bee. Even Fleefoot was sitting wearing a wreath of flowers. Perhaps Abraxos was a little too happy as Evangeline placed a large crown on his head

The girls all walk down stairs. Where the guys - sorry ‘males’- await looking incredibly handsome -gods help us all- they all stop as they stare mouths slightly open, as the girls walk down one at a time their breathing hitched at the alluring and divine beauty of the women. Each male gaping and smiling as the women fell in place next to them.

Ansel and Ilias-
I: It’s different seeing you in a…dress instead of battle gear. I like it.
A: It’s also different hearing you speak I like it… much more. *blushes*
I: You’re much more than the girl I used to know at the Red Dessert. I think she will be very proud of who stands here

Nesryn and Chaol-
*Death stares at each other*
* until Nesryn breaks and smiles*
C: That was the most beautiful and scary thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Please tell me you were thinking nice thoughts.
N: Shut it Chaol.
C: It’s so rare it only comes once every 5 years.
N: Chaol don’t be ridiculous. *tries to hide her grin with her hair*

Asterin and Fenrys-
A: I can’t believe they set us up together.
F: I know, it’s weird seeing all that love practically spilling out of their eyes, it looks like they’re hypnotised. I mean even Lorcan…

Elide and Lorcan-
E: Lorcan stop starting it’s just a dress.
L: *takes deep breaths*
E: If you don’t stop looking like the heavens opened up and shined rays of glory on me. I’m going to go with Asterin.

Manon and Dorian-
M: Cleaned up well, Princeling
D: Likewise, Witchling *holds gaze with sapphire eyes thinking about what will go down after the festival*

Lysandra and Aedion-
A: If you’re going to change forms now. I suggest that it is either something too small or too big for that dress. So that it would either come slipping off or be torn to pieces.
L: Here I thought you wanted to do the honours yourself.

Aelin and Rowan-
A: Don’t get to comfortable with this dress. Thanks to you I can hardly breath with all that Chocolate you gave me.
R: You ate all of it? Fireheart we were supposed to share it and I brought extra cookies for me, by the way you look too beautiful.
A: I wonder if the teenage Buzzard would have preferred this dress over the dragon one.
R: The teenage Buzzard’s heart would have stopped beating.
A: Such a shame he misses out on what else I’ll have for tonight.
R: *eyebrows lift*

Evangeline/ Abraxos/ Fleefoot
E: Come on guys! Stop standing there lets go. We’re going to miss the festival.
F and A: *barks and growls agreement*


Set in Sexretary universe. Clarke likes to tease Bellamy at work, but she also likes to let him eat her out on her desk. 

Rated E

Read on AO3

She’s wearing the fucking blouse.

The lilac one that complements her ivory skin so well. An extra button popped open so he can see the swell of her breasts, the smallest hint of cream lace. And it’s tucked into that fucking pencil skirt. Dark grey, tight, showing off the curve of her ass perfectly and ending a little above the knee, because she at least tries to be professional at work.

He’s told her how much he loves the outfit; how distracting it is because all he wants to do is corner her in her office and fuck her up against a wall, suck bruises into her skin where they can’t be hidden. Where everyone will know exactly what she’s just been doing. It makes it all the more tempting each time she passes him at his desk, a sway of her hips he knows is for his benefit, the release of a breathy sigh as she runs a hand through her blonde locks, the sound sending a jolt to his cock which is entirely unhelpful when he can’t act on it, one final salacious wink over her shoulder.

Fucking tease.

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anonymous asked:

do you have any issue with clothing as far as color and fabric go? I don't really have sensory issues with clothing (except for jeans) but I'm really uncomfortable with variance in colors / fabrics and I don't know why. :/

i aim to only buy clothes that are as soft as possible or feel 100% ok on my skin! i never settle and think “well this feels kind of ok” i pick up an item of clothing and either go “nice” or “nO” 

i cant wear genuine denim as it entirely intolerable + i struggle with wool too. i usually just buy soft cotton type stuff i think

i tend to only wear dark neutral colours! e.g. black, grey, navy! i’ll wear pastels like my lilac sweatshirt but not often. i never ever wear bright colours (except white tops sometimes) i only really feel comfortable in darker colours + navy is my favourite

‘All the little angels rise up, rise up, All the little angels rise up high! Sing it, you sons of mothers!‘ 

The marchers picked up the response from those who knew it. 

'How do they rise up, rise up, rise up, how do they rise up, rise up high?’

'They rise heads up, heads up, heads up–’ sang out Dickins, as they turned the corner. 

Vimes listened as the refrain died away.

‘That’s a nice song,’ said young Sam, and Vimes remembered that he was hearing it for the first time.

‘It’s an old soldiers’ song,’ he said. 

‘Really, sarge? But it’s about angels.' 

Yes, thought Vimes, and it’s amazing what bits those angels cause to rise up as the song progresses. It’s a real soldiers’ song: sentimental, with dirty bits. 

‘As I recall, they used to sing it after battles,’ he said. 'I’ve seen old men cry when they sing it,’ he added. 

‘Why? It sounds cheerful.' 

They were remembering who they were not singing it with, thought Vimes. You’ll learn. I know you will.

Terry Pratchett, The Night Watch

Peter hated shopping, for clothes especially, yet he had woken up in the morning and pulled his favorite shirt from the dryer only to watch as it nearly disintegrated through his hands. And so he found himself shopping, hating everything, and wondering who wears lilac this time of year. 

Someone stepped up next to him and assumed it was an employee. “Do you have this in a medium?” He asked looking at a nice burgundy shirt. “I like when it’s just tight enough to emphasize my arms and chest, but still loose enough to like, hide my belly?” He finally looked up and realized who he was talking to.

Mrs. Arthur Knowles and her Two Sons (1902). John Singer Sargent (American, 1856-1925). Oil on canvas. Butler Institute of American Art. 

Mrs. Knowles and her two sons, John Buchanan and Richard Arthur Lees seated. Mrs. Knowles wears a lilac-gray skirt and bodice with billowy ruffles and holds an open book on her lap. The boys wear Pierrot costumes. Props, such as the flowered fabric used as a backdrop and the canapé on which the subjects are seated, are from Sargent’s London studio.