#jet beads

[aworldofpattern]

Dior Couture Spring 2024

[dozydawn]

Salma Hayek in Wild Wild West (1999). Costume by Deborah Lynn Scott.

[musingmelsuinesmelancholy]

The urge to fashion a rosary from Victorian mourning beads

[shivunin]

I was trying to achieve the look of Morrigan's jewelry and it isn't turning out how i expected but it is still turning out so cool

[jetstarred]

finally unpacked my suitcase and why do i have more, smaller things i need to unpack and organize. everything should just magically go where its supposed to

[cyborg-hydra-girl-thing]

mmmmmmmmm I fuckin love ballistics

love hearing the whir and whine of the machinery loading the next rounds

love the explosive reports and the belch of fire and brimstone from my muzzle

love seeing AC/20 rounds slam directly into a cockpit and the whole machine going limp and falling over, while I’m already turning away and lining up shots on my next victim

[cherrycreamsicle]

Ooo bitch my fuckin strawberry beads came today I'm so fuckin excited

[blanketorghost]

Octomer Baby Development: A guide for new parents (Part 1)

Parenthood can be as fulfilling as it is challenging, and for new parents, this may seem like a daunting task to make. But with the help of this handbook, you will be walked over all there is to know about the newest member of your family and how to take care of them.

PHASE 1—THE EGG:

0-2 months:

The egg has just been laid. Roughly about the size of a bead. Though coloring may vary, most octomer eggs look transluscent with a bright colored center, in which the embryo is located.

Unlike octopuses, octomers only lay one or two viable eggs per mating cycle. This greatly increases their life expectancy as their digestive system no longer shuts down inlieu of producing viable eggs. Octomer eggs, like most marine life eggs, are extremely fragile and squishy. Parents often create a small nest out of weaved kelp, sea cucumbers, and soft live coral. These are not only meant to cushion the egg, but the toxic tendrils of the live coral help protect their precious offspting from predators.

Another difference to Otopus eggs, is their shspes. Since Octomer eggs aren't hung on the ceiling of an underwater cave, they lack that telltale teardrop shape most octopus eggs are known for, instead taking a more spherical form.

3-5 Months:

On this stage, the egg is about the size of a ping pong ball. Eyes and a mouth start to look visible and the embryo's body starts to develop the octomer's signature 8 arms. Though poor, their sight and hearing will develop and the embryo will start reacting to sounds and light. It is recommended parents start talking to the egg to incentivize development.

It is common for octomer parents to carry their egg around in small pouches or bags so the embryo can be stimulated by outside sounds and light fluctuations at different sea levels.

5-7 months:

Most of the octomer's body is fully developed at this point and sex can be determined by the lack or prescence of a hectocotylus. The outer membrane of the egg also starts to lose color and become more fragile as the embryo absorbs more nutrients. The egg is about the size of a billiard.

At this point, it is not recommended to move the egg, as it could possibly harm the delicate shell and cause premature hatching.

7-9 months:

After absorbing all the nutrients from the egg, the octomer baby is expected to pip and hatch around this time. The outer layer is expected to be completely transluscent as all nutrients have been absorbed, and instead all coloration has been transfered to the newly hatched baby.

At this stage, their chromatophores aren't fully developed, and as such, most octomers at this stage only have light pale coloration alongside freckles or marks reminiscent of their specific species. Octomer babies have also not developed the ability to create water jets, and due to their small size— around the size of a baseball— can be swept by ocean currents. This is why, most octomer babies will be constantly in the care of their parents up until they've reached 24 inches or 61.4 cms in size.

[arminsumi]

fogging up nerd armin's glasses.

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍 — アルミン ⋅ fem reader

NOTES: damn i rlly be making my entrance to hell with this 🫡 kidding. ENJOY MY FELLOW NASTY BXTCHES 😈 the poll ain't even finished but i whipped this up in preparation for the armin prompt winning so i can satisfy our nerdmin craving lol

🔞 mdni / 18+ content

SUMMARY — nerd armin being pathetic for u until he snaps 'n puts u in ur place and does a full 180 :)

WARNINGS — smut, stereotypes (nerd, popular girl), mean reader / "pathetic" min -> mean min

SMUT WARNINGS — nasty kinky smut, implied experienced reader, namecalling (bxtch — both ways, he uses your own spells against you like some mf sev. snape, slvt,), stereotype kink (?) if that's what it's called, calling him/you pathetic, (mean) (nasty) dirty talk, oraljob (m. receiving), cvm swallowing, unprotected sex (implied taking the pill tho), creampie, dom/sub dynamics (switching), mean reader -> mean armin later, slight overstim, slight size kink, mentions him watching/learning from pxrn + mxsturbating with a pillow, please lmk if i have missed a warning!!

WORDCOUNT ≈ 1.2k

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

gold-framed, oversized, round glasses slip down his nose. there's a slight fog gradient creeping from the bottom of the lenses, owed to the searing heat coming from his dampened cheeks.

he's never felt this good in his life and you know it, that's partly why you offered to give him head in the first place. the other reason was to pay him back for helping you study for the past couple of months. he's showed up at your dorm room every weekend, textbooks clutched tight to his chest, back of his hand pushing those round glasses up his nose by the rim. there's faded freckles speckling his face and an ever-present boyishly red blush adorning his cheeks and ears.

that blush becomes more prominent when you have him like this. head tilted back, fistfuls of your bedsheets clutched tight in his delicate hands, head spinning. he's got the most picturesque blissed-out face, a real erotic expression straight out of a hentai. you don't need to even ask if he's ever gotten sucked off before, because the answer is clearly no. no way he has. he is the most straight-laced, uptight student — valedictorian, of course, and when he's not the best in school he's upset with himself. self-esteem so low, but your mouth is doing wonders to bring it back up. because he's receiving a sloppy blowjob from the most popular girl in school.

"oh my g—o–oood that's s-so fuck-fucking good!" he chokes.

the poor boy started out so quiet, able to swallow every moan and erotic noise. but when you really got into it? he lost it. he's been whimpering on your bed with you between his spread legs for an hour now.

"please don't fucking stop — fuck! — please 'm begging you, don't stoppp! yesyesyes fuck, ahhhah — oh my god i'm gonna go crazy if you lick it like that."

you give your jaw a break and pop off his cock, earning a startled whimper from him. he is so fucking pretty laying there, wettened blond bangs stuck to his forehead, blue eyes half-shut, textbook being nudged off by his elbow. and just an hour ago that textbook was being held in his hand while he taught you in that know-it-all voice of his.

now all his voice sounded like was pathetic, and you made sure to tell him that. "you sound so fucking pathetic." you smile up at him. his dick jumps and throbs, precum beads out and you swipe your tongue over his slit to collect it.

" 'm pathetic for you, 'm all for you — ouhhh fuck!" he goes into another lust daze, it looks like he's slipping from reality when your plush lips engulf his cock. and you haven't even shown off your deepthroating skills yet. how is he gonna survive that?

the answer is; he doesn't. he squirts out three hot, thick jets of cum the split second he feels his cock hit the back of your throat. the slight contractions of you swallowing made him let out the most broken, nasty whimper you've ever heard a man make.

you pull off and gulp all his cum down. "jeez, 'min, you moan like a bitch." you giggle meanly. he's absolutely getting off to your dirty talk. he wishes it was right in his ear.

but there's some hidden part of him that wants to throw you into a fatiguing position and bliss you out with some mean strokes. that secret little part of him seethes when you call him pathetic. oh you think he can't make you cum? he could ruin you with his cock. he knows it.

so when he goes home after your 'study' sessions, he watches porn and learns how to stroke right, how to play with that lil kitty of yours, how to lick it how to fuck it and how to ruin it. it's like a study session itself. he even practices with his pillow, thrusting his hips into it, mimicking the rhythm of the pornstar on his screen. practicing his smart mouth on his fist or fruits, learning how to control his tongue better, pretending it's your pussy.

your next few study sessions with him are riding practice.

you're teaching him everything he needs to know to destroy you, and you don't even realize that he's absorbing the information with the intention of using it against you. oh, you like your clit rubbed like that? you like it fast, like it slow? you like dirty talk? creampies?

"you're fucking nasty." he talks back to you for the first time when you're demonstrating how to hit it from behind.

you're caught so off-guard, all you can do is smile in shock.

"what'd you say?"

"nothing." he lies sweetly.

with that, he snaps his hips flush against your ass. those delicate hands that you taught many things to are now squeezing your hips with a nearly bruising grip, just how you told him you like.

those pretty lips that you taught how to french kiss and taught how to eat pussy are now brushing against your cheek, muttering dirty talk just how you told him you like.

"mmm who's a bitch now?" he seethes, cock sinking so deep that you kick your feet around.

"oh m- oh fuck! hahhhh, 'min 'min 'min! f-f-fuck don't stop! don't you fucking stop talking to me like th-that — oh my god that's the fucking spot, right there right there, harder please right fucking thereee!!"

he chuckles behind you, genuinely amused by how you sounded like a bitch in heat. it's like the both of you swapped places completely.

that pretty fat cock pumps in and out at an eye-rolling pace, the deep strokes he's hitting are something you never taught him but for some reason he knows how to do it well. your body slowly feels like it belongs less to you and more to him as he bullies his cockhead into that mushy spot. now that spot really fucks you up, and he learned that quick when you taught him. he listened to your every word and put all the theory into practice.

so that's why you start gushing and creaming around him. there's juices running down your thighs. sweat and heat searing across your bodies. hell, even armin's got your juices running down the front of his thighs as he fucks into you from behind.

"god you're making a fucking mess, have some shame. my fucking cock is getting painted white. 'gonna clean it up for me with that mouth of yours afterwards? yeah, you're damn right you are. uh-huh, i'll call you my bitch. can't believe you fucking like that, you're a fucking freak."

that last line is what makes you cum. oh, that was so funny to him; weren't you the one who used to call him a freak?

"look at that fucking back arch, wow..." he admires breathlessly, expression feral as he approaches his own high. "gonna cum inside, just how you want, 'sure you still want it?"

"yesyesyes! gimme your cum!" you cry, feeling slightly overstimulated with each stroke of his cock. it was so fucking thick, you felt so full that it's all you could focus on. so full. and he was gonna fill you up even more.

"oh my fuckin' god 'm gonna cum in this slutty fuckin' pussy, take it like a good slut — m-my slut, yeah? you're my slut? say it, please. yeah. say it again, 's gonna make me cu- fuck! ohhh god 'm gonna cum. take it, fuckfuckfuck 'cumming, 'cumming mmm!"

armin's never orgasmed that hard, or shot out that much cum. now if you weren't on the pill, you would have absolutely gotten pregnant from that session. he's a boy with breeder balls, that's one of the first things you told him and he remembered it.

he pulls out and relishes in the sight of his cum dripping out and running down your slit.

"that's so fucking beautiful." he smiles naughtily, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his forearm. "hey, up for round two?"

© arminsumi DO NOT STEAL WHAT I'VE WORKED HARD TO CREATE.

[vampcubus]

Inexperienced Virgin!Giyu who’s never even touched himself, only ever cum in his sleep a few times by accident. And when you finally take him into your hot palm, he swears he’s seeing stars, crying out hoarsely as if he didn’t know it could feel good to have his cock touched. And as you work him diligently—ruthlessly to his fast-impending orgasm, he’s in tears over how good it feels.

He’s clinging onto you desperately, his eyes clenched and thin brows pinched in pained ecstasy. Shaking hands hold your shirt in a white-knuckled grip as he humps into the tight tunnel of your fist, trembling as your thumb mercilessly teases his slit. Pre beads at the tip relentlessly no matter how many times you smear it across his creamy head, and when you start to play with his balls he just can't hold on any longer.

His breath becomes frantic, and he struggles to form the right words to warn you.

“I-I think… I think something’s going t-to uhn, come out- please!” his shaking voice pitches higher, mewls forced from his throat as his peak hits him like a train. The feeling is intense and hellish hot, cum jetting out of him and spilling over your fingers. He cries out helplessly, widened blue eyes staring into nothing as he convulses and writhes, hips jerking with every pulse.

You coo at him and stroke him through it, leaning down to swallow his desperate moans with your lips. Eventually, he tugs at your wrist, whimpering that it's "t-too much, it's too much."

[wannabanghwang]

Summary : some cozy, hot shower sex with hyunjin :) bit romantic, bit cute, bit freaky😉🫶

Word count : 1.5k

Warnings : handjob, fingering, unprotected sex, choking kinda, hair pulling, the works

There’s a knock on the bathroom door.

“You can come in.” You call out.

The door creaks open and then shuts again with a click, seconds later. You tilt your head for a better view, but the glass is fogged up with steam. You make out Hyunjin’s tall, slender figure even through the blurry glass. He stands opposite to you, separated by the wall.

“Do you want some company?” He cocks his head, the pitch of his voice heightening as he speaks.

“I’ll think about it.” You reply, smiling.

He stills. “Okay I’ll leave.” He answers coolly.

“I’m joking, come here.” You smile, rolling your eyes.

You hear the metal clink as he hastily undoes his belt, followed by the gentle thump of fabric hitting the floor. The glass door pulls open slowly, releasing a whirl of steam. He ducks his head slightly, grabbing the marbled underside of the door frame as he makes his way inside. He pulls the door closed behind him, engulfing you both once again with steam. The heat magnifies the deep floral scent of the soap you’re using. White clusters of bubbles glide down your body, guided by the steady stream of water. He slowly steps closer to you, cautionary, as if you might tell him to leave if he’s too quick. He reaches behind his head, tugging the tie from his hair. It immediately falls into place, silky black waves forming curtains in front of his face. He drags his hands through his hair, pulling it out of his face before joining you under the spray of water. His eyes fall closed as he tips his head back, basking in the warmth.

“God, it’s so hot. Do you always take showers like this?” He drops his head back down, a few strands of jet black hair falling in front of his eyes. Beads of water drip from each one, landing on his nose and lips.

You hum, tracing a finger along his collarbone. When you look up, he’s gazing back down at you through dark, glossy eyes. His plush pink lips parted ever so slightly. The mixture of Hyunjin’s height and the angle of his head act as a shield, sheltering you from the stream of hot water. He licks a drop of water off his bottom lip, making a show of slowly dragging his tongue over it. He’s a born performer, awash with raw, sexual power. The kind possessed exclusively by young, influential men. Hyunjin is virile, yet feminine in the most alluring, seductive way. When he wants something, he doesn’t just know how to get it, he knows how to make you want to give it to him. The way he’s looking at you right now, dark hooded eyes, hungry, and alight with desire. They travel up and down your body, consuming every inch of skin. Long, slender fingers gently graze up your hip. He locks eyes with you coyly, testing the waters. You bring my lips to the expanse of his chest, slowly and deliberately. Sucking gently at the soft wet skin. He brings his free hand to your chin, tilting it upwards and holding it there. He kisses you hard, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth. His grip on your hip tightens, pulling you flush to him as his other thumb roams your cheek. You tangle your fingers, losing them in his thick streaks of black hair. You make a fist, tugging his head back just enough for him to open his mouth. He allows your tongue to wander. He tastes sweet, and faintly minty.

His big hand travels from your cheek to the back of your head, taking a firm grip on your hair. He tangles his long fingers through your wet hair, pulling just hard enough to elicit a satisfied sound. Your reaction seems to please him, as he smiles, pulling away from the kiss to look you in the eyes. His unwavering grip on your hair remains. Now that your faces are apart, the heat from your flush bodies becomes more apparent. You feel him pressed against your belly. He’s achingly hard as you push your bodies even closer. His back collides with the tiled wall behind him, cool brown marble contrasting with the heat of the water. You remove your hand from his hair, bringing it to rest on his shoulder. Your other hand rakes slowly up his thigh, digging in your nails as your fingers pass over the defined V formed by his hips. They come to a halt at his ribcage, just below his chest. When you look at him this time, his eyes are no longer hooded and hungry, instead they’re wide, burning with anticipation. Hyunjin’s curious, doe eyed look only grows wider as your fingers trace the ridges of his abdomen. You allow your fingers to lightly brush over the tip of his length. He whimpers softly in response, curling a tight fist in your hair. He knows you know what he wants. And he knows you’re going to give it to him. It’s all a bit of a game to him, and he revels in every second of it. He yanks you closer by the waist, grinding his hips into your belly, desperate for any kind of friction. His stare is hot, seering every inch of skin he sets his eyes on. He’s gorgeous like this, a little bit undone, pink cheeks flushed from both the steam and the frantic need for release.

“Tell me what you want.” You whisper.

“Touch me.” He groans back in response. “Please.”

Finally, you take him in your hand the way you know he wants you to. He melts instantly, a long shallow hiss escaping his throat. His head instantly lolls onto your shoulder, hot breath on your neck. He opens his mouth, dragging his tongue and teeth over your shoulder. He sucks in a gasp as you stroke him slowly, rocking his hips up to claim as much contact as he can get. He bites down gently on your neck and you inhale deeply, exhaling a quiet moan. His long, delicate fingers creep down the small of your back before reaching the heat between your thighs. He traces a slow deliberate finger in between your legs. You squeeze him lightly as your hand travels up and down his length. Your breathing goes ragged as he begins to trace slow circles around your clit. Just as you start to grind your hips against his fingers, he pulls them away. You whine in response, squeezing his shoulder.

“Tell me what you want.” He smirks into your ear.

“You know what I want Hyunjin?” You reply.

He raises an eyebrow, curious.

You lower your voice, to nothing more than a whisper. “I want you to pin me against this wall and fuck me with your pretty cock until you come.”

He sucks in a gasp at your crude language, but you feel him twitch in your hand. His breathing is harsh and ragged now, and he’s wound up in a way that feels almost primal. He flips your bodies in one swift movement, him now shielding you from the stream of water. Your chest is pinned to the cold tile, your hands on either side. Hyunjin’s lean, solid body is pressed up behind you. He breathes deep and hard into the crook of your neck, bringing a hand up to the wall, his large hand eclipsing yours entirely as he interlocks your fingers. He busies his other free hand with teasing your entrance, dragging his tip along it. You try to reach back, but he holds your hand tight to the wall. He readies himself and then without warning thrusts into you. He goes slowly at first, nipping at your jaw with his teeth. You whimper and arch your back, indicating for him to go faster. Your bodies are flush together so close that they’re practically parallel to the wall. Hyunjin snakes his free hand under your arm and to your neck. His fingers settle their stern grip on either side under your jaw. The slight pressure on your neck feels so good, and you let him know with a bit louder moan. He smiles into your neck and groans, quickening his thrusts. You can tell he’s close because his fingers tighten more and more around your throat the faster he goes. For a while, the only sounds heard are the mixture of your ragged breathing, skin colliding and the steady stream of water. He groans harshly, followed by a whimper. His thrusts grow sloppier and he drops his head onto your shoulder.

“Fuck.” He rolls his hips slowly, prolonging his high for as long as possible.

He pulls out, and you feel a hot spurt of liquid drip down the back of your thigh. He sighs deeply, catching his breath against your neck. You stay like that for a moment, allowing your heart rates to still. Slowly, Hyunjin stands up, allowing the water to hit your skin again. He reaches wordlessly for the bar of soap on the shelf above your head, bringing it down to your skin. He drags it down your body, leaving a trail of bubbles in its wake. He sets the soap back on the shelf and allows his hands to massage it into your body, white bubbles covering both of your skin. You smile, pleased as he holds you flush to his hard chest beneath the water, allowing the soap and the remnants of sex to mix as they wash away down the drain.

[jewellery-box]

Woman's Dinner Dress, French, c. 1880

Woman's dinner/reception dress in two parts. Floral patterned figured silk overdress polonaise with contrasting wine-colored silk satin collar and edging, trimmed down bodice front with jet and glass beads. Skirt front of ruched wine-colored silk satin with bustle of black figured silk. Label: "E. Pingat rue Louis le Grande 60"

MFA Boston

[ode2rin]

SAY YES TO ME ~ ❀ ·˚

content/warnings. 1.7k+ wc | husband!reo x gn!reader | characters are aged up to late twenties | just lovesick reo asking you to be his valentine's date :> | pure fluff | minimal proofread

𓆩♡𓆪 in which: your husband, reo, just knows exactly how to make you say yes.

For the first time in his life, Reo had never been happier to be the CEO of his company. 

He couldn't recall feeling as alive even when he first inherited the position. While he appreciated the benefits and authority, nothing compared to the freedom of controlling his own time.

As soon as the clock struck 12 pm, Reo sprang to his feet, driven by a sense of purpose akin to a man on a mission. His determined strides echoed against the perfectly marbled tiles of his office floor as he made his way to the elevator. It was five hours earlier than his usual clock-out time, but today was an exception.

Because today was Valentine’s Day— and he had better plans than sitting around skimming through papers that hardly made any sense anymore because his mind was already consumed with thoughts of you, as if he didn’t spend most of his time doing exactly that anyway.

Before finally leaving his office floor, Reo made a beeline for his secretary’s desk to ensure the finishing touches were being made according to his instructions.

“Everything must be ready before we arrive,” he declared to his secretary, his tone more of a command than a request. This was serious business, after all. In fact, none of the investor deals he signed earlier this day would measure up to the importance of this one task at hand.

“Yes, sir,” his secretary replied cautiously.

Satisfied, he stepped into the elevator. His eagerness to see you was so evident— anyone can tell. He wasn’t hiding it, not even trying one bit to do so. From the way he pressed the lobby button twice, checked his watch incessantly for the past few hours, and tapped his wingtip against the elevator floor as if its speed could hasten his journey home— everyone can tell that his very own company building was the last place on earth he wanted to be.

Well, he supposed anyone with someone precious waiting for them at home would understand his seemingly pathetic behavior.

Pathetic, lovesick, whipped— you’ve reduced him to every synonym for such. 

Not that it concerns him; what's more concerning is that he's not bothered by any perception tied to it. If he hadn't outgrown that teenage angst and was still chasing bits to fuel his ego, then it would have been a different story. He would have been hypersensitive to what bystanders thought of him. Now, older and wiser, he couldn’t care less about what they meant to prying eyes or big tabloids. None of their opinions were yours, so none of them mattered.

The journey back home was tenfold more insufferable than the time spent in the elevator. He kept his eye on his chauffeur in the rear-view mirror, and if he squinted enough, he could see the beads of nervous sweat forming at the poor man’s temple. He sighed to himself, seemingly reprimanding his own improper behavior. Hell, what was happening to him? He wasn't even an impatient man to begin with. All because of Valentine’s Day—all because he couldn’t wait to see you.

He got it real bad, as his longtime best friend would like to say. One he couldn't find it in himself to deny. It was true, anyway.

He didn't know when or where it started, but one random night four years ago, he woke up in a cold sweat, and the realization that he was hell deep in love with you gnawed on his center to his throat. So in love it set his heart on fire, all while being in love with the one person who lit the match.

Rumors were true— love never aligned with logic, intricate planning, none of what he excelled at as a businessman. And so, he abandoned logic and acted exactly as his heart had been urging him to. 

The very moment the sun peeked over the horizon that fateful day, he was on his feet, his jet waiting to fly him to wherever the finest diamond engagement rings reside.

It was the best decision he had ever made in his life because if he hadn’t, then he wouldn’t be standing at the entrance of your shared home, his grin widening with each approaching step he hears. You’re bustling around the house just to welcome him home—so, no, he couldn’t have it any other way. The mere thought of doing things differently made his heart leap into his throat, while a hollow feeling settled in his chest.

“Love! Welcome home!” you greet him, your lively voice warming Reo’s heart as it makes its way to him.

Even before you could throw your arms around his shoulders and kiss him senselessly to welcome him home, you're met with a bundle of red roses he had taken from his back.

“You shouldn’t have bothered,” you blushed, resembling the vibrant flowers he bought on the way home.

“Nothing is ever a bother when it comes to you,” he mused, big amethyst eyes sparkling back at you.

Ever the sweet talker, you looked at your husband who was now peering over you and the roses you’re cradling.

“Okay, Mr. Charming. To what occasion do I owe this?” you play pretend, your voice tinged with playful curiosity.

Instead of an immediate response, you felt his hands traveling to the small of your back, pulling you close against his embrace. His lips grazed your cheek, before whispering in your ear, “Be my Valentine?”

Here he goes again, you thought. “I’ve been married to you for the last four years, if I remember correctly,” you pointed out to him, keeping your smile to yourself.

That’s not a yes. Huffing, Reo pulled back from your hug to look you in the eye, “Your point being? There are no rules in marriage that say I can no longer ask you on Valentine’s day– if I remember correctly,” and he even had the pettiness to mock your tone.

“Wow, my husband is a bit sassy today, isn’t he?” 

My husband, he repeats in his mind, and just like that, all sassiness and pettiness came flying straight out of the window. “I love being your husband,” he blurted out, totally unrelated to your previous banter.

“Oh, really, now?” you teased, feigning the warmth it sent to your chest.

He does, truly and definitely. A man like him is widely known for what he has– for the possessions under his name and for the power it holds. Yet here he was, wrapped around your arms, and suddenly, being your husband has been the best he has been called and known for.

There was no weight, no expectations, and no pressure tied to it— just love dripping in every letter. There’s no one he would rather be.

“Yeah, am I doing a great job?” smiling at you, he asks, “I’m not losing the charms, am I?”

“Trust me, you’re very much good at it,” you fondly brushed the strands of hair covering his eyes, “and you’re not losing the charms,” you quoted.

“Really? So if I were to ask again, would you say yes?”

“With or without your ‘charms’, you know exactly how to make me say yes.”

Reo let out a hearty laugh at your remark. “You’re right,” his fingers reached out to your left ring finger, where his oath of forever lay glimmering.

God— he really did that. He put a ring on it. It was his name next to yours, his rings on your hand, his bed you share, and his forever you spend with. Four years and more to come, but Reo was certain he would never get over it.

Before his rationality left him and wrecked his own plans, Reo caressed your back, his hands moving dangerously low down your hip and giving it a squeeze, “Still wanna hear it from you though,” he mumbled softly against your lips, “So, what do you say in letting this poor man take you on a date as his valentine?”

You drew closer to his hold, your arms finding their place around his neck, hands occupied with the flowers now resting on his back, “I say,” you pressed your lips as if trying to think, “I’d like some kiss and maybe hear a please first—”

You couldn’t even finish teasing him because in a heartbeat, Reo closed the distance, seizing your lips in a fierce, hungry kiss drowning out the sound of words with an intensity that left no room for second guessing his invitation. Nothing about Mikage Reo was silent and subtle– not even when he kissed you. It had to be breathless, deep, urgent, and parting your lips in surrender.

His hands found their way, trailing with purpose along your spine, while his other traced the curve of your jaw with a feather-light touch. Teasing fingers then tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, desperate for more.

He pulled back first, leaving you light-headed. He flashed you one smirk, lips almost melting into yours.

“Please?”

Fuck. You didn’t need to be asked thrice. You nodded your head aimlessly, earning a chuckle from him. “Go then, pack some clothes. Our jet is waiting for us.”

“Jet? Did you mean car?” Where the hell was he taking you to use a jet for?

Seemingly reading the question on your face, he answered, “I know what I said, love. We’re going to Paris.”

“What?!” you exclaimed, squirming from his hold completely, “We could just dine somewhere close, Reo.”

Now, who told you he only had dinner in mind? Who did you take him for? You shouldn’t be surprised anymore— there’s nothing in this world that would come close to the satisfaction he got from spending lavishly on you. It was a reminder that he could and most certainly would give you everything you wanted. “You don’t like Paris?”

You tried to reason, heavy on the try so it seemed because you soon realized it was a mistake clarifying your point, “I mean, I do but—”

“I think I heard enough, love,” a sheepish smile formed on his lips, “I’ll wait for you here, alright?”

You rolled your eyes at him before retreating to your shared bedroom to prepare for freaking Paris. Of course, you're going. There’s really no winning against him, you’ve known that ever since. He longed to prove to you that he always had the irresistible charm of making you say yes.

Not that you'd ever thought of saying no. The ring weighing your finger down could attest to that.

note. been seeing people saying their partners no longer ask them valentines bec they're tgt alr... reo would never do that btw do better

another note (pls tolerate me). i'm pretty sure i'm fighting for my life when this gets posted (it's qd!!) so here's me wishing all of you a happy hearts day 🩷

[little-pondhead]

Day 20: Pitch Bible AU

I had a lot of fun with this :)

[Quotes from the pitch bible and personal headcanons are below the cut.]

Link to pitch bible

-

Pitch!Danny

"The kid with the nerdy, freaky parents. The kid who's afraid of his own shadow."

"Shy, quiet, stumbling and nervous - but always with a smile and a wink to his friends and the camera."

(Page 7)

Danny's death mark looks more like a burn scar rather than Lichtenberg figures. Everyone assumes he was in a fire whenever the trio talks about the Accident. The Fentons back this up since the true events cause an electrical fire in the lab.

He was only bullied about his scars once. Danny burst out crying on the spot, and no one has said anything since. He carries around a homemade balm to soothe the scars when he gets phantom pains.

His death mark extends into his hair and one of his eyes. He now has heterochromia as both Danny and Phantom, as the affected eye's iris was darkened, and a starburst pattern appeared. (inspired by this)

His overall eyesight was also affected, and he now wears reading glasses as a human. Danny frequently loses them, so his friends bought him a used eyeglass chain from a yard sale. The eyeglass chain is made of rainbow beads, and the spirit of the previous owner is attached to it.

Danny took up knitting soon after the Accident to help retrain his fine motor skills and concentration. He's quite good at it, and he made a sweater based on Van Gogh's Starry Night.

Frequently has ectoplasm stains on his clothes from either ghost fights or helping his parents in their lab. Most people think it's paint.

Phantom is invisible to most people (including himself when he looks in mortal mirrors.) He keeps it that way as much as possible, as his appearance is quite inhuman. Danny hates the uncanny valley feeling he causes wherever he goes. Even his friends had to work to get past the instinct to run when he showed himself. He has no pupils, but his death mark remains.

-

Pitch!Tucker

"Tucker uses the gadgets that Danny has gotten for him by raiding Mom and Dad's lab: The goggles that let him see ghosts, the backpack that lets him capture them, and the occasional random jet back that Dad was saving for a rainy day."

(Page 17)

Tallest of the trio, even with Sam's boots giving her an inch. Took track and field in middle school, so he's also the most physically fit, even if it's just by a little. Tucker is also the most reckless of the three and carries a first aid kit around for both him and Danny.

Bit of an adrenaline junkie, even if he won't admit it. Red Bull is his go-to over coffee and tea, which both Sam and Danny insist is bad for him. He's always hungry from sharing his meals with Danny, who cannot cook at home.

Tucker was forced to stop wearing his hats in middle school, but he hated his hair at the time, so he dyed it blonde and fried it straight to 'fit in better.' Sam and Danny have yelled at him for it, and he's slowly learning to appreciate his natural hair. (He still wants to keep dying it for a few more years, however. Red is the next color on his list!)

Takes dual courses at the Amity Park Community College in computer science. Became a top student quickly. He uses this knowledge to help Danny tinker with his parents' inventions and computers. (Which is difficult, given their backgrounds.)

Has a form of synesthesia called 'chromesthesia,' which means he sees colors and patterns when he hears sounds. His favorite color pattern is the sound of leaves rustling in autumn since it makes pretty yellow, orange, and red swirls. He turns the most memorable sounds into tie-dye t-shirts.

Tucker uses his 'liberated' Fenton tech all the time. Aside from ghost fights, he will 100% use the jetpack to get to school when he's late or use an extendable arm to hold a drink when he's busy. It drives Danny nuts because he has to recharge the backpack more, but when it comes down to it, he doesn't really mind. After all, Tucker is the one jailbreaking all their equipment.

-

Pitch!Sam

"A Goth Janeane Garofalo-type that hides her good looks behind baggy clothes, she is an encyclopedia of conspiracy theories and paranormal activity…a cute girl who loves all things geek!"

(Page 17)

Sam is the most serious of the three and is suspicious of everything. Her parents raised her as a rich elite; nothing comes for free in that type of life. She practically lives in the secondary suite that belonged to her grandmother Ida, tending to the greenhouse and library there.

Her favorite color is purple, and she raises Purple Emperor butterflies in the greenhouse in an attempt to increase their population, despite her location. She raises other butterflies and insects as well, but the Purple Emperors are her pride and joy. She wears purple butterfly charms in honor of them.

She has a bigger library than the high school, with books on topics Danny and Tucker have never heard of. During a ghost-induced power outage, they went to Sam and her library to perform an "ancient form of Googling." She did not appreciate that joke.

Cuts and dyes her hair herself, and bothers the boys about proper self care. She even has a little notebook in her pocket that lists reminders, dates, and observations she wants to look back on later. (For example, it reminds her when Danny is supposed to take his medicine, since his memory sucks now.)

Sam researches the paranormal almost obsessively, especially since she gains that psychic link with Danny. She wants to understand it, how it works, and why it happened. (She isn’t aware the ‘get better’ kiss was the cause.)

The random feelings and visions have increased her anxiety tenfold. Tucker jokes that she’s Batman now, since Sam has used her money to create a hundred different backup plans for everything she could think of, including hidden emergency packs all over town.

Once curb-stomped a grown man, as a child, on the day of Grandma Ida’s funeral because he was bragging about influencing the final will in his favor. She brings this energy to any fight she’s capable of participating in, and ghosts have learned to give her a wide berth. Locals just think she’s nuts.

[digitalfashionmuseum]

Black Moire Silk Court Dress with Jet Beads, ca. 1885, Austrian.

Worn by Empress Elisabeth ‘Sissi’ of Austria.

Kunst Historisches Museum Wien.

[jetstarred]

i made a total of 13 kandi bracelets in the span of 5 hours last night. and ill do it again