#fifityshadesofplaid

[serseri-sair]

Merhaba arkadaşlar,bir sosyal farkındalık projesi kurduğumu birçok kişi biliyor ve bugün belediye desteği ile ilk etkinliğimizi düzenledik çok güzel bir etkinlik oldu.

Sizlerden bu postu reblog yaparak ve kanalımıza abone olup videoyu beğenerek destek vermenizi istiyoruz.Etkinliklerimizi daha kapsamlı yapmak sizlerde içlerinde bulunmak isterseniz iletişime geçebilirsiniz şimdiden teşekkürler herkese 🙏

[thatprettylittlething]

@fifityshadesofplaid ♡

       ‘ Miss Martin, ’ Stiles greeted with a tilt of his top hat. The elderly women around him crowed about their ailments, while others scolded his dismissal of their daughter's affections. He was rather well desired by those of the working class. Taking his leave, Stiles offered an outstretched hand to Lydia, a puddle rippling at her feet. ‘ They’re simply making me aware of their families fortunes. ’ He mused, a smirk painting his crimson features. ‘ I believe I could possibly have a bride by the end of the hour. ’

𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐒𝐄𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 that smirks at the villains that plague her is not the sort she meets in her novels. Nor, she contends, does the aforementioned damsel turn out to be none other than 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙾𝚈 𝚂𝙷𝙴’𝙳 𝙲𝙻𝚄𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙾 𝙸𝙽 𝙲𝙷𝙸𝙻𝙳𝙷𝙾𝙾𝙳. Back when there had been no pressure to rely on falsehoods, and genuine behaviour came naturally.

She takes his hand as they had in their extreme youth, playing the roles they made for themselves; knight and princess, pirate and siren. Always a team. And now, she supposed, as the pair have reconnected over the several weeks preceding, they are forming such comradery again. As if it had ever faded. Her lithe step brings her to safety with the assistance of his hand; a leap-like step in small, tawny boots. In avoiding the puddle of sodden dirt that would undoubtedly have stained her footwear, the girl overestimates the distance. A gay smile graces the lips of the girl who has not realised how close they now stand, thoughts preoccupied only with his unrivalled humour.

❝ Indeed, you seem to have caught the eye of much of the community. ❞ Her teasing words are accompanied by a delicate intertwining of their digits ( those joint hands another overly familiar proximity she ought to reform ). ❝ Yet, if you are wed, I am sure I shall no longer be permitted see you . . . I am certain that at least two of their daughters abhor my very existence. ❞ Although playful in tone, her words reflect a sincere, stifled concern for the events that will follow when they are both married. To be tucked away from society, without Stiles, for a second time? Miss Martin could not bear such a hateful outcome.

[itssheriffstilinski]

@fifityshadesofplaid​

“Stiles!” Noah grabs his duffel bag, slinging it onto his shoulder and grabbing his keys from the kitchen table. “Quit stalling! Let’s go!” 

[thatprettylittlething-a]

𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 ↠ @fifityshadesofplaid

Lydia doesn’t even realise 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 she’s walking until her boots leap over a root dividing the path without her having to think about it. Because she had 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒏 that it would be there. She knows this path like the back of her hand, having spent the majority of her childhood racing along these worn stones. But she refuses to linger too long on the 𝒘𝒉𝒚 of it all, the fact that her feet had carried her here during a moment of distress, and that walking between these familiar trees 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐝 something inside of her.

But the memory of years gone by only does so much to stifle 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭. A disagreement with Mr. Whittemore ( her mother would scold her for calling it an argument ) had left her in floods of tears, the warmth she felt for him in her heart dampened and turned cold. She too wishes to believe that it was simply a misunderstanding, that the two would see eye to eye again soon enough, but what if they did not? Lydia felt as though she did not feel 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆 in his company, that the 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 she so often wore amomg society remained firmly in place even when the pair spent time alone. He did not encourage her to be open, to reveal herself to him — it was as though he preferred the polished, perfected version she showed to the masses, 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝. Was that who she wanted to be? Or perhaps it was simply a comparison with 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 that was causing confusion for the girl.

It’s as this very thought strikes her that the 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐲. A rock out of place at the corner of the path where the verge gives way to a slope, a deep ditch with a stream at its floor. 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭, a small shriek erupting from plump lips as her arms shoot out in a vain attempt to lessen her fall. Dainty ankle is twisted as she falls onto her side, jagged stone scraping the length of her pale forearm. Tears spring to her evergreen hues, the sharp pain winding the girl as she attempts to haul herself up, pretty features contorted in a wince.

[ohdeer-malia]

‘ i know i don’t deserve you, Malia. ‘

hamilton memes. (accepting!) » fifityshadesofplaid

❝ DON’T. ❞

A hand stays poised on the door handle, in case the air in the jeep becomes too thick and Malia needs a quick way out. Fingers curl and uncurl, debating her options. She could sit here and have the talk that she really has been trying to avoid, or she could bolt out now, sprint into the trees and live there forever. It’s not like he would be able to catch her anyway—between the beat up jeep and his lack of athleticism (at least compared to her) she had the advantage. But she couldn’t keep running forever. 

❝ You don’t...you don’t get to break up with me and act like you’re doing me a favor, Stiles. You’re not the one getting your heart ripped out here. ❞

[starcourtscream]

       The   last   several   hours   were   more   blissful   than   anything   Lydia   could   have   dreamed   of.   Rosy   incandescence   spills   over   entangled   forms   &   she   feels   the   feather   light   caress   of   Stiles   instantaneously   coaxing   her   from   sublime   rest,   sensitive   to   his   presence.   Petal   soft   lips   ascend   with   a   crescent   shape   upon   stirring   &   love   glazed   hues   lift   to   him.   Is   there   a   more   perfect   awakening   ?   His   lips   send   a   pleasant   tingling   sensation   that   spreads   along   dawn   kissed   alabaster,   making   her   smile   blossom   when   memories   of   last   night   gently   return   with   morning   birdsong.

She   gives   herself   a   moment   to   enjoy   his   gentle   tracing   along   her   skin   like   this,   her   favorite   way   to   wake   up.   She   feels   more   rejuvenated   than   she   can   remember,   only   wishing   each   day   began   as   heavenly   as   this,   knowing   she’s   loved   endlessly   but   she   always   loves   hearing   it.     ❛   I   love   you,   ❜   she   echoes   sweetly,   inching   closer   beneath   twisted   white   sheets   &   finding   his   lips   for   a   soft   and   happily   bestowed   kiss.

♡   @fifityshadesofplaid​   ⟶   continued   (   x   )

[the-harvestwitch]

@fifityshadesofplaid

“Incendia.”

Dozens of candles placed amongst an altar within the Claire family tomb of the Lafayette Cemetery instantly sparked and lit at her command. The warmth was imminent along her skin, as the swirl of magic left a familiar hum within the young witch’s being. Davina was trying, once more, to reach out to the ancestors. To beg them for guidance.

For Kol.

Davina clenched her jaw at his name. “No more tears,” she whispered to herself. That was the whole reason she’d left his playhouse to begin with. Though a great workshop, it held... too many distractions. Memories. And with that, and a deep breath, the girl began chanting.

“Vie dans des ancêtres, renforcer noblesse. Comme des ancêtres, de coeur noblesse. Décider on de ancêtres, garder noblesse. Vie dans des ancêtres, renforcer noblesse. Comme des ancêtres, de coeur noblesse. Décider on de ancêtres, garder noblesse...”

Over and over she whispered the spell to commune with her ancestors in hopes of begging for more power. A second chance. It wasn’t the first time she’d attempted this with no avail. Sometimes there was just the wind or a chill in response, others⎯⎯ if she pushed hard enough, she’d cry blood. A warning from the ancestors to stop her abuse of magic. But how could she? How could she give up hope, even with no help? She’d hoped tonight would be different...but as moments passed with the repetitive chant, yet again there was no response. All she felt was the hum of her own power and that of the three of remaining Harvest girls, bound into a cut of the Fauline diamond, strung into a pendant that hung from her dainty neck. An idea of Kol’s...and a last minute plan. A source of magic when, combined with Davina’s, would give her the power of four French Quarter witches. She’d be unstoppable. And she’d also die. Though she had her own means of bringing Kol back, which involved dangerous amounts of dark and sacrificial magic, Davina at least had to try a safer way that didn’t result in her own life hanging in the balance.

“Ugh!” She screeched. Her hands slammed down on the altar in frustration. A few candles toppled at the sudden forch, but she could care less. The spell wasn’t working. And it wasn’t because of her. “I know you’re there...” She heaved. “I know you can hear me! Just⎯⎯⎯ ” A quite sob broke through her lips. “P⎯Please...please help me⎯⎯ ”

A scuffle of rocks, a disturbance resounded throughout the crypt. With a startled expression, Davina whipped around. While wiping the traitorous tears from her eyes, she took a deep breath in hopes of dispelling the shakiness from her voice before calling out, “Hello?...Who’s there?”

[queenv]

@fifityshadesofplaid

New STUDENTS meant new seating arrangements, and while she was the reason behind making sure South Side High stayed CLOSED for her family’s business, she did vow to keep everything together for the peaceful transition. She took her things, a press of a kiss on Archie’s cheek before she moved desks, scooting over next to one of the boys that had transferred over. “It’s STILES, isn’t it?”