half leather



Procrastinating…. (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧ with D&D fashion doodles.

New ‘found’ outfits (pried from the cold dead bodies of royal guards) for the Druid, Bard, Wizard and my Rogue. Customized in the city to fit their personalities (originally the studded leather was green/white, with a hare motif). I am not sure if the other players had a different look in mind…we’ll see. 

…But at least I added sparkles. Just to make the Paladin jealous.

Okay! Back to business :3

Imagine: Lucifer teaching you Enochian

Originally posted by schrodingerwasadicktocats

“What do you want, Lucifer?” you ask, patently annoyed.

“What? I’m not allowed to visit you?” He’s sat in the previously empty chair.

“You’ll be bored. I’m a little busy.”

Lucifer pouts, “I can tell. You haven’t even looked at me.”

You didn’t answer his statement, being too caught up in your contemporary work. For the past twenty-four hours, you’ve been accumulating whatever books you could find on a certain angelic language, which wasn’t much. Not only was there a lack of information on the language, but it didn't produce pronunciation. Although you didn’t attain much from the books, you managed to fill over half of a leather bound notebook full of it. Unfortunately, the amount you attained was only about as much as finishing French Class I. You wipe off your pen and set it down, running your hands through your hair before standing to look for whatever book you could find.

After you disappear behind a bookcase, Lucifer pulls the notebook to himself and reads what’s written. To his surprise, it’s filled with the symbols of both Enochian and its English meaning. Of course, he noticed that some angelic words were spelled wrong.

You come back, not with books, but with a computer, hoping to get some information off the internet.

“You spelt this one wrong,” Lucifer points at your notebook.

“Yeah, right. What do you know about Enochian?”

Lucifer glared at you, looking genuinely insulted.

“Oh. I’m so sorry, I forgot. I’m just really stressed,” you apologize.

“Just grab your pen and fix the spelling.”

“I don’t know how to spell it. I thought what I wrote was correct.”

He takes the pen himself, dipping it in the ink and quickly writing the correct spelling. He hands it back to you.


He hums.

“Can you teach me? I can’t find much, and who knows Enochian better than an angel?”

Lucifer smirks, “Are you asking for my help?”

You sigh. “Yes.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He pulls out the chair closest to you and sits you down, ready too help with both spelling and pronunciation.


My costume for the Isles LARP in two weeks. I’m playing Sister Lanthirel Rook, known affectionately as “Rookie”, scrappy little Half-Elf Paladin. Her God is the God of Death, who is much maligned. Leave him be, he just wants to escort souls to the next life. She’s part of a religious order that worships the brother gods of Justice and Death.

I want to get me some leg protection and I need to sort my pointy ears out, but I think I’m happy with where this get up is at. <3 Skull earrings by Ooh Shiny Jewellery on Etsy, and the armour is a custom piece by the Republic of Shae

anonymous asked:

Steve's puppy is in love with his shield. She insists on sleeping in it, eating out of it, and is not impressed when Steve tries to swap in a replica to fool her.

Tabitha was tiny and black and white with a little black spot around one eye and Sam took one look at her and joked that she had the same worried crease between her eyes that Steve did.

He’d adopted her from down South, a pit mix of some kind that was attentive and sweet.  And curious. Snuffling around his gear and when she tipped his shield over on accident she went scurrying away, only to creep back when it didn’t chase her and nose at it until she realized it was perfect for a rocking-bed.   

Steve took approximately 300 pictures and decided there was no harm in letting her doze in his shield while he set up her bed and bowls and toys and made sure he’d puppy-proofed everything.


Only that wasn’t the end of it.  A week later, and she was still nudging it with her nose until it tipped over and snuggled in for the night every night.  He’d given her a meat bone earlier in the day and she’d trotted off with it, tail high, to curl up in his shield and chew on it.

It was on his next mission he decided things had to change.  The fur could be easily brushed away and the bone bits washed off, but the leather straps had little teeth marks in them that would soon be big teeth marks and Steve realized he might have encouraged a bad habit without meaning to because it happened to be cute.

So he bought her one of the plastic replicas he found on Amazon and set it on the floor for her.  She was interested at first but had barely gotten a paw in it before she pulled back and left it for his actual shield.  He put treats in it and tried redirection and she kept stubbornly (like you, Sam smirked as he filmed some of Steve’s unsuccessful retraining) refusing to use the plastic shield.  

He went on Etsy and bought a cosplay replica that was an impressive facsimile.  So good, Tabitha laid down in it.  

For five minutes.  

It was Clint who finally fixed everything, sending T’Challa a series of photos and a note that simply read “a little help?”.

A week after that, a package arrived from Wakanda.  Inside, a perfect replica of Steve’s shield in pink, white, and blue with “Tabitha America” painted on it and half-dozen leather straps for her to chew.

Now We’re Even

Summary: Based off this prompt I found on Pinterest: "Are you sure I can’t punch him in the face?“ "Yes.” “What if I just break his nose a little?”

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers, Reader

Warnings: None

Word count: 665


“Are you SURE I can’t punch him in the face?” Bucky asked.

“Yes,” you sighed, not even bothering to look up from your book. You stretched your legs out even more, taking up almost half of Tony’s expensive leather couch. Nestling back into the pillow you had placed against the armrest, you continued your afternoon reading.

Bucky stared at you from the other end of the couch and hummed thoughtfully. He slowly scooted another inch closer to you. You felt the couch shift with his movements but chose to ignore him.

Bucky slowly moved again, his muscular thighs grazing the tips of your toes. A small smile threatened the corners of your lips, but you held strong. You started back up at the top of the page when you realized you hadn’t comprehended a single word.

Bucky pushed your legs apart and crawled up the front of your body until his head was resting underneath your book. He tucked both arms under his chin and looked up at you expectantly. It was quite comical really, and he almost reminded you of a cat. A much heavier cat with a metal arm, but a cat nonetheless.

You lifted your book up and quirked your eyebrows at him. Ice blue eyes stared back up at you with a faux-innocence.

“Can I help you?” you asked, amusement lacing your voice.

“What if I just break his nose a little?” Bucky replied, hopefully.

“Bucky!” you yelled exasperatedly. “It was just a cookie!” You bopped him on the head with your book for emphasis.

“But it was MY cookie, doll!” he groaned, shoving his face against your chest. “Do you have any idea how much I wanted that cookie?” You giggled as his deep voice vibrated against you.

“Aww, my poor baby,” you cooed.

Bucky glared up at you. “This isn’t funny,” he mumbled, looking dejected. “He does this crap on purpose, you know.”

You rolled your eyes and tossed your book on the floor. Grabbing his ear, you dragged all 200 pounds of muscle out of the living room.

“Ow, doll, what are you-” Bucky complained as you pulled him along. “Hey! Ease up a bit, would ya?”

You ignored his pleas and refused to show him mercy until you reached the kitchen. Sam and Steve sat at the island, laughing over some story you had zero interest in.

“Hey, Y/N!” Sam exclaimed. His gaze wandered to a hunched over Bucky. “What’s up?”

“Sam,” you said calmly as you continued to hold Bucky’s ear, “can you PLEASE refrain from eating Bucky’s cookies from now on? It’s seriously interfering with my reading time.”

Sam paused briefly before busting out in laughter. “That’s real cute, Y/N,” he guffawed, clutching his stomach.

Steve knew better and kept his mouth shut. You clenched your jaw and finally released Bucky’s ear. You stalked over to Sam and he nearly fell off his stool as you stood so close that you could see every pore on his face.

“Sam,” you growled, “stay away from Bucky’s food or I will personally bury your dead body in the backyard where not even the heat sensors Tony installed can find you. Clear?”

“Crystal,” Sam gulped.

Your dark expression faded and you smiled brightly. “Good!” you exclaimed. “Now, if we’re all done acting like children, I’m going to go back to my book.” You sauntered out of the kitchen back towards the living room.

“Man, I can’t believe you ratted me out to your girlfriend,” Sam muttered as soon as you were out of earshot. He glared daggers at Bucky, and Steve held back a snort.

“Don’t touch my stuff, Bird Man, and we won’t have a problem,” Bucky replied, rubbing his still-sore ear. He strolled over to the freezer and took out the last ice cream sandwich. He unwrapped the paper and took a huge, satisfying bite.

“Hey!” Sam yelled. “That was mine!”

Bucky just smirked as he backed away, taking another bite.

“Now we’re even.”

TAGS: @buckyappreciationsociety

College!Shawn Imagine - One Night

Title: One Night (College!Shawn)

Pairing: Shawn Mendes x Reader 

WARNINGS: suggestive content, mild swearing

Summary: Based off of a College! prompt I found once where you meet while both doing the Walk of Shame. 

A/N: I’ve got so many prompts saved I’m highkey considering creating a full on College!Shawn series or something I’m so in love with the idea of a slightly older Shawn who’s more charismatic and has grown out of his shell to become the Life of The Party (AHA!) I know that boy could be. 


“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You jolted upright. 

The too-small clock read 8:34 AM and you had to squint to see through the crusty sleep in your eyes. For a second you thought it had said PM. Dumbly, you thought maybe you were the lucky bastard who got their personal twisted version of Groundhog Day, a do-over for the mistakes you clearly made last night. For example, the shots you swore you weren’t going to do on a school night. Or, more importantly, the boy that laid asleep next to you.

Now you were here, in this dimly lit student suite, scrambling around an unfamiliar bedroom for a familiar pair of high waisted jeans.

“Where ’re you going?” You heard a gruff mumble come from beneath the sheets.

“Shit.” You swore under your breath, turning around to find the psych major you found unbelievably intelligent last night wrapped up in the sheets you slept in. 

Uhh, gotta shower. I’m late for class.“ 

He turned to the tiny clock on his bedside table, seemingly reading the minuscule thing with ease. He smiled at you as if you were kidding. When your blank stare didn’t falter, he scooted further to the edge of the bed, patting the empty spot next to him as if expecting you to crawl back and cuddle into his awaking body.

"Ten minutes more?” He grinned lazily. 

“Y'know what, I-I’m good.” You stuttered, tripping over the other sneaker you were looking for. 

You silently thanked your roommate for forcing you into spending actual money on athleisure wear. You couldn’t imagine what it’d be like to walk your shame off with heels on at 8:30 in the morning.

“You sure?” The boy was fighting off a frown. “No breakfast or anythin’?”

“Yeah, yeah. I mean, no.” You nodded a little too feverishly, hands brushing through the knots in your hair in the hopes of somewhat redeeming your appearance. “Thanks for offering but I should really get going.”

“Right. Well, thanks, i guess..?” you heard him mutter before you closed his door.

You inhaled sharply, trying to gather yourself as best you can before braving the campus. 

“Sorry.” You muttered under your breath, bumping into a random student.

You kept your head down, moving as fast as your legs would go, not wanting to break out into a run in the middle of campus. That would attract way too much unecessary attention, as if your messy state wasn’t enough already.

“It’s oka—(Y/L/N)?" 

You whirled on your feet. 

Your eyes widened when you saw that it was Shawn, a music major from the grade above you. Tutored you for a history course once (surprisingly very good at History of the Arts 1). An outrageous teacher’s pet despite his Cool & Calm demeanor (sometimes volunteered as Teacher’s Assistant for your professor).

"Mendes?” You asked in disbelief, no doubt your mouth agape. You tugged down your small top in a self-conscious effort to cover up. It only made Shawn notice your outfit more. “Why are you wearing boots in 30 degree weather?”

“Guess we’re both guilty, huh?” He grinned unapologetically. 

You took in his appearance like he did you. His curls—longest you’ve ever seen it grow so far—was disheveled, his crumpled red blouse was half unbuttoned and the leather jacket he usually adorned during night outs was thrown over his shoulder. 

“Oh my god,” you mumbled into your palm to try and hide the warmth engulfing your face. “I am never asking you to tutor me again.”

“Why not? You got an A minus on that history exam ‘cause of me, remember?” he bantered.

You wondered why Shawn wasn’t the least bit embarassed. Was he accustomed to the classic Walk of Shame? Ugh, that was so not your business. “

Because,” you shrugged in false indifference. “The next time I sit next to you in that quiet library, all i’ll think about is…” you drifted off awkwardly.

“Is..?” Shawn raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips in amusement.

“Ugh, you know what I mean.” You grumbled, not entirely annoyed despite your deviantly crossed arms.

“That we both look outright fucked?” Shawn left his eyebrow propped, the amused pucker of his lip widening into another grin. The signature challenging Mendes Grin, all teeth and mischievous eyes.

“Ugh.” You muttered, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hands. “Are you done bullying me? ‘Cause I’d really like to go to class now.”

“Class?” Another brow shot up. 

“Yes, class. Y'know, the place where we learn the things our parents have paid for? Or were you so shitfaced you’ve forgotten the last 15 years of your life?” You shot back, one impatient hand propped up on a jutting hip.

“Hey, i’m not judging your lifestyle choices,” Shawn held up his hands in defense, but the grin never faltered. “Besides, it’s Sunday. Unless you were so shitfaced you’ve forgotten that the weekend exists.”

“What? It’s a Monday.” Your eyes widened, ignoring the jab he took at you. “No, can’t be right. It’s a—”

You quickly fished out your phone from your back pocket. Surely enough, the screen lit up with the date and the day on the corner of your screen. 

“Sunday.” Shawn finished for you, grin more smugly if that was even possible. “Must’ve given the lucky guy a heart attack this morning, huh?”

“That’s none of your business.” You glared. 

“Well, you know what is my business?" 

"What?” You raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

“The massive hangover I’m harboring right now, and I bet you are, too.” Shawn slung an arm around your shoulder. 

The same way he casually did when you asked him to tutor you (per your professor’s request, definitely not yours). Called you a 'newbie’ whilst doing it, then made you promise you’d bring muffins as a form of payment. Your boss at the on-campus-coffee shop you worked at gave you questioning looks the whole three weeks. 

“What do you say we go grab some muffins at the coffee shop?”

“But I was gonna shower first,” you frowned, turning over your shoulder to gaze at the direction of your dorm longingly.

“Your shower can wait, you don’t smell too bad.” Shawn smiled down at your head. You were too busy glaring at a judging stare some guy gave the two of you. He thought you were going to hiss at the guy like a cat. 

“Gee, Shawn! Right back 'atcha.” You rolled your eyes. You kept your hand at your sides as Shawn began walking.

“Come on, tea on me.” Shawn bribed.

“Fine,” you huffed. “But not the one I work at. My boss won’t hesitate to give me weird looks.”

“Fine.” Shawn echoed, voice much more brighter than yours. 

You silently followed Shawn (not that you had much of a choice) as he steered the two of you off campus, occasionally greeting Juniors and Seniors you recognized. You were just thankful once the coffee shop finally came into view, leaving the judging and questioning stares of your fellow collegiate pals.

“Hey, (Y/L/N)?” Shawn piped up, opening the door with his free arm, not once letting go of your shoulder.

What, Mendes?”

“Do you think your lucky fella’ believed you when you said you needed to get to class on a Sunday morning?" 

"Shut up, Shawn.” you craned your neck to glare up at his much taller figure.

He snickered, tightening the casual arm around your shoulder before walking up to the barista to order your usuals.

I swear to fucking God, I can’t scroll down the fucking HZD tag without someone posting ship hate about Erend or Nil.

And it’s not even them talking about how they may or may not be compatible due to their personalities and belief systems. Nope.

Whenever they talk about Erend, they always talk about how he’s just another bland “ Bland piece of white beard,” who’s “ Too old, fat and immature.”

Whenever they talk about Nil, they just talk about face value bullshit without even thinking about the complexity of his character.

Then they talk about how they KNOW why people don’t ship Varl or Vanasha.

Well since you fucks are having trouble understanding why people like them, let me try explaining why I like them:

I like Erend because he was the first person who treated Aloy as an equal right off the bat. She didn’t have to do anything to gain his approval or earn his respect. He was nice and flirty when Aloy felt out of place and unwanted by the Nora.

He welcomed her into the city and helped her even though he was grieving over what he thought was his sister’s horrible murder.

(BUT HE WAS DRUNK!) Yeah, if I thought my sister had her face fucking bashed in to the point of no longer existing, I’d fucking drink myself into a stupor too.

He acted like a real person desperately asking Aloy to help him find the killer and some sentiment of closure.

He never doubted Aloy even though he couldn’t see what she could. Trusted her completely, and thanked her for giving him hope and then thanking her for giving him one last moment with his sister before she died.

Then he has a growing moment, instead of killing his sister’s killer, he obeys his king, like she wanted. He’s hurting, but he’s going to grow up and be the man his sister wanted him to be.

This is made clear when he talks to Aloy. Before he thought he was just a big shot talking to a pretty girl, now he knows that he was just a lucky little shit who didn’t know who was standing in front of him, and how he was lucky enough to just get a few minutes of her time.


Yeah, he’s immature. We’ve established that. But instead of staying that way, he’s making conscious decisions to be a better man. Yes, it’s going to take time, people don’t change in an instant. I’m sure by the DLC or next game Erend will be a different man.

Here’s why I like Nil:

He’s an interesting character who’s entire background is shrouded in mystery.

You learn that he was a soldier with a dark past, he’s honorable and isn’t just a mindless killer with a sword.

He follows rules to the fucking letter, and he never pressures anyone into anything.


Yeah, and by doing so, he helps the people settled around their encampment, makes the roads safer to travel, and deters other bandits from settling in.


There really isn’t. When Lonelight was constantly getting attacked by Glithhawks, the guards stopped even trying to fight them. The townspeople had to get help from the Hunter’s Lodge.

The guards aren’t going to go out of there way to defend a settlement, the only way they’d deal with the bandits is if they’re close by to the city, or if the bandits are wiping them out.

Nil doesn’t need a reason or a reward, he does it as soon as he knows where to go.


He’s constantly isolated from human interaction. Of course he comes off that way, with nothing else to think about, and no form of positive or negative responses from people to shape him, what do you fucking expect?

But if you actually pay attention to him, he actually changes the more you talk to him. The very last time you talk to him, he seems almost ‘normal’. He even comments on Aloy’s look, saying that he can tell she’s been through some hard times, and that he hopes it ends quickly for her.

When you decline the duel, he changes and helps you during the final fight.

Nil is so interesting to me because he’s a disturbing individual who channels his bloodlust in a way that helps others. Nil is so interesting because he’s living with the side effects of isolation.

Nil is so interesting to me because he speaks intelligently, wears a soldier’s armor, admits to all of his wrongdoings, follows the rules set before him, and respects your boundaries.

If you say yes to his duel the first time, he asks for your consent again, saying that he doesn’t want to push you into it. But if you say no, that’s the end of it. That’s all it takes.

He’s heartbroken, but he doesn’t lash out or hate you for it.

Nil is a fucked up person, but he’s not and evil person. (I also have a voice kink, but that’s besides the point)




OH! And Erend isn’t fat, he has a muscle man physique, and his armor is an inch and a half of hardened leather with steel rings attached .


Anonymous said:
Make them raw us. Again :)

a/n: also i was in the shower jamming to a song so i mean I’m killing two birds w/ one stone :)

Much Love!


I sat on the couch, giggling with the rest of the boys to a dumb game of truth or dare. “So Y/N, truth or dare?” Calum chuckled, taking a sip of his third beer. “Truth.” I squeaked. “Have you ever given a lap dance to anyone?” He asked me. “Uhh, no I have not..” I said, looking down. They all stared at me like it was a lie, but it wasn’t.

“Okay, so you’re telling me, our princess of a girl, has never even given a lap dance to anyone?” Ashton said, resting his chin on his fingers. I nodded my head, sipping my water as they all looked at me. “Is it a big deal? I mean I’m not the type to tease.” I said, smiling a little. Luke scoffed, “I highly doubt that princess.” I was taken back a little, “You calling me on my bluff, daddy?”

They all shifted, looking at each other like they were reading each others minds. “Alright, since you think you are not a tease, prove it.” They challenged. “Fine, I will.” I stood up, determined to prove them wrong. “Do you have a song request?” Michael asked, connecting his phone to the speaker. “You know what it is.” I winked.

Each of the boys sat on the couch while I got “prepared.” I quickly rid of my shirt and shorts, leaving me in my matching lace set. The music started playing and I straddled Luke’s lap, first. My hips rolled into his as he grasped my waist. I ran my hands down his chest and thighs, without touch his growing bulge. I could hear the three other boys groan as my body moved against Luke’s. I licked up his neck, whispering in his ear.

I moved to the next boy, Calum who looked like he was aching for some attention. My backside was to his front as my bum grazed his clothed cock. I turned around, biting my lip looking him in the eyes, something that I know will get him weak. I grabbed his shirt, twisting it in my hands as my tongue ran along his bottom mouth, but quickly pulled back when he tried to grab my face.

When I got to Ashton looked like he was ready to pounce. “You still think I’m a tease, daddy.” I giggled, running my hands on his exposed collar bones. I kissed down his neck, biting every now and then. Ashton’s hands squeezed my hips, making me jolt. “Princess, you were always a tease we were just testing you.” He chuckled. I rolled my eyes, lightly hitting his chest.

Now Michael, had lust filled in his eyes, wanting only me. “Fuck, I knew you were a tease when you started with Luke. I’m not dealing with this.” He picked me up by my hips, laying me on the black futon. “God, such a fucking tease, I think she deserves a punishment.” Calum smirks. I turn, my bum exposed to them. “Good girl.” he commented. “Now guys, shall we go for 5 each?” he asked the other.

Two hands grabbed my panties and pulling them down to my knees. Seconds later, a slap, harsher than the first one came down on my left cheek and I cried out, my eyes shutting down as I took in the pain. “Will you count for me princess?” Ashton asked, so I knew who was doing it.

“One” I simply said, waiting for the next four. His hand came down alternatively on my right and left cheek, spreading the pain all over my ass. After l took in the 5 slaps, the weight shifted and a hand massaged my bum for a while before coming down on me again. It was Michael’s turn and I was trying my best not to scream.

It was then Luke’s turn and as he started to spank me, I let out a loud scream, not being able to hold it back anymore, it was just too much. “No one can hear you princess, it’s just us.” He teased before giving me 4 other harsh slaps. “Calum, I can’t it’s too much.” I begged. His finger ran over my slit, making me shutter. “Your body says otherwise baby girl.” He says before slapping my ass again. “And that was for the wrong name.” He chuckled.

I whined, looking over my shoulder, only to get my hair grabbed and turned back around. “You know the rules,” Michael growled. I was flipped around, exposed to the boys while they looked me up and down. I bite on my finger, lightly sucking on it looking right into Luke’s eyes, but it was soon ripped out of my mouth. “You’re just asking for it princess, aren’t you.” Ashton mocked.

Daddy, let me have a taste. I’ve been such a good girl, please.” I batted my eyes.  Luke shook his head, “You think you should get a taste, when you just teased the fuck out of us, princess?” I sat on my knees, placing my palms on my thighs, like how they taught me, and pouted. “Fuck, I can’t. I’ll let her have a taste.” Calum moaned.

I smiled to myself, having them wrapped around my finger, they always caved in. I let my hands work on his belt buckle while I licked my lips, begging for a taste. Calum’s sweats were finally off his cock imprinted on his boxers aching to burst. My tongue ran on his shaft, slowly taking in his tip. They always told me to never rush, so I took my sweet time. Focusing on pleasuring him, being his good girl.

“Fuck, you’re so good at this princess.” He moaned, his hands tangling in my hair. I looked up at him through my lashes, taking him all the way and holding it. I let his tip drag down my bottom lip, as my hands worked him up. “Okay, enough.” Luke growled pulling me back. I pouted at him, “But, daddy I’m just being a good girl, like you always ask for.”

I lay back, my hands up. “She does know what to do,” Michael sighs, “I think she deserves an award.” They turn and look at me, “Would you like that princess?” Ashton asks. “Yes please, daddy.” I respond. His knees are on both sides of my thighs, his hands creeping up to my core. Ashton leaves kisses down my neck, all the way to the valley of my breasts. A small moan escapes my lips when he presses a finger against my clothed clit.

He rubs in small circles, building up my breath only to let it go again. “Mmm, the only reward you’ll get is my cock inside that sweet pussy of yours.” He growls. I whine pushing my hips towards his hand only to get them pushed down on the couch. “Come on princess, you can beg better than that.” Ashton says. “Please daddy, you know I’ve been a good girl, please I deserve a reward, I’ll do anything you want.” I begged.

Luke smirked at me, coming closer. “You want a reward? Well, you’ve got one now baby girl.” He whispered while kissing my neck. Luke took his time, trailing his down my body, feeling every inch of it. “Daddy,” I said, sounding a little demanding. “Watch your tone, you know where that gets you.” He darted his eyes at me. His fingers hooked the inside of my panties, slowly inching them down my leg.

I was now more exposed than I already of, and I was loving every minute of it. Luke’s thumb toyed with my clit while he inserted a finger into me. One became two, which became three and I was shaking under Luke’s touch. He started sucking and nipping at my neck, leaving clear evidence of the night. A high pitched moan left my mouth as I became closer and closer to my edge again. Luke curled his fingers, pushing me into my first orgasm just by tapping at my g-spot.

My teeth sunk into my bottom lip as my legs threatened to close, my back arching and sweat trails left on my forehead. “Fuck, please daddy.” Everything about each of the boys was anything but vanilla. It was far from it, and it was exhilarating. “You wanna be good for daddy and cum all over my fingers, huh?” Luke pushes. I nodded, a mewl escaping from my lips.

Most of the time it was Luke who had the master mind of fingering, as well as Ashton, but something about Luke made me weak. “Come on baby girl, we all know you’re close.” Calum says, coming up and kneading my breasts. “Mmm, daddy. Can I cum?” I asked. “Go ahead, princess.” Once I got permission, an intense wave of pleasure ran through my bones. My legs squirmed as my nails dug into the leather leaving half moons everywhere.

Long whimpers fell from my lips, as stars clouded my vision. Deep breaths came from my chest as I slowly opened my eyes. “Such a good girl, our good girl.” Ashton grabbed my hips pulling me right on his tongue. I struggled, being so sensitive. “Daddy, ‘m too sensitive.” I moaned. Ashton’s scruff tickled the insides of my thighs as his tongue was flat, cleaning me.

“No no no no, please daddy I can’t.” I begged, but I didn’t want him too. The pit of my stomach was on fire while my toes curling turning white. “You want me to stop, huh? Hm, cute.” Ashton chuckled. My second orgasm hit me harder, with long moans and whines coming from my lips. “God you taste so good.” Ashton worshiped.

Sweat trailed down my forehead as I tried to catch my breath. “You’re not done yet, princess. We still have a while to go.” Michael said. He grabbed my legs, pulling me down again. His tip ran against my folds making goosebumps rise on my skin. Slowly, he pushed into me, building up the anticipation. Finally, he began to thrust in and out of me.

Shaky moans came out of me as Michael’s grip tightened on my waist. “Daddy, please.” I moaned. “Already princess? You’re already begging..” He chuckled. My nails dragged down his back. “Daddy, I wanna cum, please let me.” I whimpered. “Cum for daddy, kitten.” He whispered while kissing my neck. Soon after I could feel myself losing control and I released around him. He unsystematically rode out my high before pulling out of me, catching his breath.

My body felt weak, I couldn’t open my eyes. “Okay baby girl,” Calum started, “you now missionary isn’t my favorite, ass up head down.” He demanded. My body was numb as I tried my best to keep my backside up instead of plopping down. My backside faced him as my toes started to tingle. The tips of Calum’s fingers ran along my back making me shiver. “You awake enough, princess?” He asked. “Yes, daddy.” I answered. “Good,” he chuckled.

He thrusted harshly inside me with a groan as I moaned out loud. After giving me a moment to adjust, he set a fast pace, fucking into me as hard as he could. Little noises slipped from my lips, gradually growing louder as I neared closer to my release. “Daddy!” I yelled out “I-I need to cum!” His thumb came down to circle my clit, his thrusts loosing their smooth finese as pleasure consumed him. “Go ahead, princess. Cum for daddy.” I detonated around him with a scream, milking Calum for all that he was worth. Calum covered my lips with his as he came hard inside me with a raspy, “Fuck, princess!”  

I felt my body go numb at this point, feeling no energy to keep going. “You tired, princess?” Michael asked. “Yes, daddy.” I yawned. “Alright princess, we’ll let you rest now,” Ashton said, picking me up bridal style. I was set down in the bed, covering my body with blankets as my eyes shut.

ya’ll remember these fresh squids?


well then let me introduce you!


Liquor: one with black cherry earings!
Bea: the one with bio-luminescent freckles!
Zacharie: the tall one in the gas mask!
Sapphire: the one in the green coat! [used to be named emerald]

Roxxy: the one half asleep in the leather jacket!
Sprink: the small one with curls!
Befferny: the tall one with headphones!
Dalton: the one in the maroon hoodie!

I made this because SPLATOON 2 COMES OUT TOMORROW AND IM SO EXCITED IM GOING TO SCREAM!!! I pre-ordered it because IM SO 


see you all on the splattlefield!!!


etsyfindoftheday 6 | 8.4.16

theme thursday: aprons for all

varied linen aprons by linentales

your bonus EFOTD apron post is brought to us by linentales — they have hella aprons (this is only a small handful!), plus bedding, kitchen linens, and more.


YURI!!! ON ICE figure skating shoes for Yuri Plisetsky PART 1

This fandom consumed Tumblr like fire eats a perfectly dry log. And it’s no wonder I received this commission. It was a totally new experience, a lot of challenge, and I’m very pleased with results.

I was generously paid, so I could use my best resources to make the skating shoes properly. No compromises, they’re all genuine leather and cold steel - just like a real thing. I was provided with a good screenshot of the shoes so I could copy the shape as close as possible and make a vector pattern. Then I found a laser cutting service that could do such a small steel cutting commission - it wasn’t easy though))) Because they usually buy a whole 1.5 x 1.5 m steel sheets per order. Initially I was going to order an aluminium cutting but it turned out that finding a piece of steel is a much easier task. Heh, that’s even better)))

I also did a reseach on a skating shoes construction, because the shoes in anime are depicted rather schematically. So I found out that the lacing goes almost to the toe (that’s most likely because the shoes are stiff), and there is a reinforcing strip of leather at the back. I also used a kinda paper mache technique to stiffen and reinforce the shoes from inside - a high quality PVA glue with a lot of plastifier and a thin cotton cambric fabric in several layers.

The soles don’t have an usual wire support unlike my other shoes - the blade does the job perfectly. Front and heel platforms are attached to the soles with hot glue and 4 shoe nails each. The platforms are half buried into the leather soles for the perfect positioning.

OK, long story short - it was a very interesting commission!

Why part 1? There will be part 2 with some more stuff! Because the customer wanted more details and she wanted the shoes to be very personalized and true to the canon. And she got exactly what she wanted. More challenges ahead!

You can also order a custom shoes to your likeness on my Etsy:


i know i know ill stop uploading art but also. i love haruki elisia and marzipan, and their cool big bro kata who ive already uploaded a picture of so instead. u get an old quick sketch of them

barmy-owl  asked:

ron eats a shoe and hermione is like "why did you eat a shoe? i didn't sign up for this?! is this our marriage?!"

It’s been a while, eh? Thanks for the prompt, barmy, I got around to it eventually.


Of Shoes and Stings

“Um, hi?” he waved uncertainly, with a half-eaten shoe in one hand as Hermione stared at him in utter bewilderment.

A half-eaten shoe.

A half-eaten shoe!

A half-eaten shoe!

It was the hardest thing Hermione had ever had to comprehend. Clearly, he had simply gone mental. There couldn’t possibly be a rational explanation for eating a shoe! What would she tell the children? Fighting back tears and struggling for composure, she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Hi, Ron,” she replied slowly. He had gone back to munching on the hard sole.

“So, I see you’re eating a shoe…” she trailed off uncertainly when it was clear there was no justification forthcoming.

“Uh, yeah. I am.”

“Right. So you eat shoes now.”

“Nah, just this one time. I hope I won’t have to eat a shoe ever again,” he shuddered.

“Ron, you do know, don’t you, that you don’t have to eat a shoe at all?”

She was talking to him like he was a five year old. He looked up at her with a flash of irritation.

“No, you do know that I do have to, don’t you, Hermione?” he replied, sardonically.

The gentle approach wasn’t working, and she was never one to hold in her temper for long.

“No, I most certainly do NOT know that! And how on earth have you managed to eat over half of it? It’s leather!” she asked half desperate, half crying.

“I-coghed-et-fst,” came the unintelligible reply, as Ron spoke with his mouth full of shoe.

Hermione was sure she would lose her lunch if she continued to view this spectacle.

“What? Don’t speak with your mouth full, Ron!”

Having heard this reprimand over a thousand times in his lifetime, Ron made it a point to look her in the eye as he slowly chewed and swallowed, as Hermione looked on, repulsed, but unable to look away.

“Sorry. I said I cooked it first. To make it softer.”

Hermione didn’t quite know what to say to that.

“Oh,” she replied faintly, flopping down on a chair, resigned to her fate. This was her marriage now. Her husband cooked and ate shoes, and seemed quite unaware of how completely insane it all was. She hadn’t signed up for this, but Hermione has never been known as someone who gives up. She would stand by him regardless, she decided. It’s simply a new challenge. And dammit, she was the Minister of Magic. Besides, there were worse things than eating shoes. Like books, for example. After all, what would she do if Ron started eating books? So yes, she can deal with shoe-eating husbands, she convinced herself.

Nodding determinedly, she spoke.

“Are you enjoying it then?”

He paused his savage chewing and looked at her incredulously.

“Of course not!”

“Oh, so, uh-why-?”

“RON!” a soot covered Harry stumbled into their immaculate living room. “Are you done yet?”

“Shap, ‘Arry!”

“No, I will not shut up! Will you be the tiniest bit quicker?” he practically screamed at Ron.

“Harr-“ Hermione’s attempt to get their attention was overridden by Ron’s incensed reply.

“You’re quite welcome to eating a bloody shoe, Potter! I’m trying my fucking best here!” he waved the shoe about furiously, the laces still dangling off the last shoe holes left.

“Well, whatever you do, eat it within the hour!”

“Um, hello?”

“Oh hey Hermione. What’re you doing back so early?” Harry turned and addressed her amicably, as though he hadn’t just screamed at his best friend to hurry up and eat a shoe.

“Never mind that! Why are you encouraging my husband to eat a shoe?”

“Oh, um…you haven’t told her?”

“I’ve been busy, haven’t I?”

“The poor woman probably think you’re barmy, Ron! For fuck’s sake!”

“Will someone please tell me what on earth is going on?” Hermione put in, indignantly.

“He was poisoned, Hermione.”

“Wh-what? Merlin, are you okay? Oh, of course you’re not! You’re eating a shoe! Why did you take him to St. Mungo’s? Who did this to you? Who turned you insane?”

“Cam-own-Hemminy,” he replied all the while chewing the last vestiges of the shoe.

“Swallow! And I won’t calm down! Not as long as you’re eating that, for Merlin’s sake!” she said, sharply even as tears pooled in the corners of her eyes..

“Right. Calm down. I’m fine. I’ve been to Mungo’s already. The healer told me to eat the shoe I was wearing when I was poisoned. I’m not mental. And it was an accidental poisoning.”

“An accidental poisoning? How does that happen?”

Ron shrugged.

“Billywigs” Harry decided to answer her. “In the shop.”

“I’ll kill George,” she replied grimly. “Rest assured, I will. But for now, doesn’t that cause uncontrollable levitation? How’re you…well, sitting? As far as I know there’s no cure for it!”

“Uh, yeah, not technically,” Ron replied sheepishly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The healer had some, uh- unconventional remedies to offer.”

“He said that when his great-grandmother had once been stung by a billywig, she ate her left shoe and cured herself. So, uh, he suggested we try that.”

“And he said I should eat it within the hour or the effects will be permanent.”

Hermione listened half-patiently to their jumbled explanations.

“And you decided to believe this fraud?”

“Well, it does seem to be working,” Harry pointed out.

“Yes, I- I suppose it does. But why a shoe?”

“Merlin knows,” Ron shrugged. “And I’m nearly done too. Don’t you worry your pretty head, Hermione.”

“Don’t you think that it would perhaps have been easier to blend and drink the shoe?” she replied, disgusted with the tongue that was hanging out of Ron’s mouth.

“That’s why you’re the brilliant one, Hermione,” Harry replied, staring at her in amazement.

Just then, a flash went off in the fireplace, signaling another entry.

“RON!” George exclaimed breathlessly. “Oh, thank Merlin! It was a bit touch and go for a while there, wasn’t it? But you seem to be all done.”

He turned his beaming, relieved face towards Harry, only to notice a silently fuming Hermione standing between the two.

“Oh bollocks,” he muttered to himself.

“Ta, then. I’ll leave you be. To, uh- recover and such,” he was already turning away. “No need to come in tomorrow, Ron. Take a day off!”

He swiftly pinched some floo powder and stepped into the fireplace.  

“A week even! Or two! Whatever you need. Bye!” he stammered before vanishing with another flash, before Hermione could get a word out.

“Auror Potter, you have a new task now. Straight from the ministry. Drop all projects, and track down Mr. George Weasley and bring him to me. Dead or alive,” said Hermione, determined to not let him get away so easily.

“Hermione, I’m fi-“

“No, Ron. Not this time,” she replied dramatically and swept out of the room, her robes trailing after her.

“Take care, mate,” Harry replied, commiserating, before he took his leave too.

Ron sighed and took off upstairs to his bedroom, trying to string together words that will convince his wife not to kill his brother.

The Foxhole Court, Chapter 7 – The Literal Opposite Of Squad Goals

In which the Foxes don’t exactly win Squad Of The Year, everyone fights with everyone, disturbingly weird sexual tension is more disturbing and weird than sexual, and just when you think ‘oh man, it can’t go downhill from there’, spoiler alert: It does.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The Foxhole Court.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Jimon prompt: "Run away with me."

Notes: This turned into 2500 words of I don’t even know what even….

From This List


It’s taken a lot of malling over and really intensive hand on action—You know like Simon sweeping slick fingers over Jace’s insane six pack, and caressing his perfectly rounded ass for minutes on end—like seriously what even? Does angel blood like automatically ensure that you’re otherworldly gorgeous or something? Because totally unfair for Simon and all the other lowly mortals—But any how, all  of that hard work has lead to Simon coming to the conclusion that Jace is most definitely the secret love child of James Dean—with that slicked back hair and his leather jacket that moves his shoulders just right—and Captain America himself, you know cause he’s constantly permeating  superhero cockiness and has these eyes that fucking glide over Simon with a hunger that makes Simon’s skin prickle. Jace  looks at him as if they were in the same league, hell like they were even playing the same sport.  As if Jace was not in the baseball majors while Simon was warming the benches for some random ass curling team—Hell do curling teams  even have enough people to warrant  benches? And does New York even have a curling division, because no way in hell is Simon moving. He’s just got on good footing with Raphael’s clan, and has a sweet crib with Magnus—even if Simon suspects Magnus would really appreciate the sudden increase of privacy  so to be as loud as he’d like with Alec—who’s surprisingly—

No, wait! Hold up!  Simon is totally getting off track.

The point is that Jace looks like half leather bound bad boy and every kid’s envision of a superhero—While simultaneously being a secret dork who loves comics almost as much as Simon, and is super obsessed with counting his calories and having a minimal of three hours cardio every day. (Which actually ends up being quite fun since he’s begrudgingly conceded that Simon’s form of exercise  would just have to do.)

Speaking of…

“I’m…gonna…be late,” Jace pants out, punctuating each breathless word with another kiss along Simon’s collar bone.

“Hmmm, c’mon dude—ooo,” Simon let’s out a little moan when Jace bites down—a teasing nibble. “Since when are you ever punctual?””

“Since before I ever made the grave decision to get involved with such a bad influence,” Jace nearly growls out—never unlatching his lips from Simon’s jawline.

“Hey goldilocks, I’m not making you do anything,” Simon needles, raising his hands placatingly, A far too innocent  smile swept over his face as if he did not just cant his hips upwards so their denim clad erections buck up  against each other.

“You’re a menace,” Jace groans out, collapsing his head onto Simon’s shoulder, making him laugh as he cards a hand through Jace’s hair.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. And  your the guy who’s parabatai is leading this whole meeting thing, so What’s the big deal if you’re just a little late because you’re totally getting some from your mega hot vampire boyfriend!”

At that, Jace stiffens, just slightly—a sudden tautness stranding the once easy ambience that has begun to surround them ever since they admitted their pitifully hidden feelings for one another after a particularly nasty battle against Sebastian and his demonic minions.

It’s been at least a month, but Simon swears that he can still taste the snow flakes that cascaded across Jace’s irresistibly scarlet lips, and can still feel the way everything just clicked into focus after Simon just finally told him that if Jace had gotten hurt in any serious way Simon wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Never being one to pass up a grand gesture, Jace promptly  just crashed their lips together in a cacophony of teeth and tongue and spit. It was messy and startling and awkward before they finally adjusted themselves into a more comfortable position—one where Jace’s nose wasn’t stabbing against Simon’s eye, or his arms weren’t trapped between their ribcages. But even if he had the chance,  Simon wouldn’t change the moment in  the slightest—even if he’s pretty sure they both would’ve gotten frost bite  if they were not a vampire and part angel respectively—Because it  was all them, all their hesitated words and nervous mutterings finally culminated into something worth a million lifetimes.

“I should go,” Is all Jace manages out while tugging on the combat boots that Simon had abashedly presented to him as a Hanukkamass gift. (What can he say, even his devoutly jewish grandfather loved him his reindeer cookies and Christmas trees as much as he did his dreidel  and retellings of the eight plagues—combining the two holidays was the only plausible option.)

“Ah, okay…” Simon sits up so to slide in-between Jace and the wall of his  sparsely embellished room. (Simon would reason that all Shadowhunters are minimalist in their decorating prowls  if he did not know that Izzy owned three different types of fairy lights that she draped up with gusto, depending on the major holiday of that season.) “So you’re allowed to be a cocky shit, but the second that I call myself sexy you get all broody—“

Jace’s brows shoot up in flabbergasted shock.

“What! Simon! NO no nO!” Jace wobbles out as he whips his head to meet Simon’s gaze straight on—And yeah, Simon may or may not be so totally amused at how much of a scared puppy he looks right now.

“Bro, I know! Chill,” Simon all but guffaws, very nearly keeling over and toppling off of Jace’s bed.

His lips twist up in annoyance. “I’m not your bro,” he scoffs, moving to tug on his T-shirt and jacket.

“NO, no you most definitely are not,” Simon amends, a far too fond smile tilting the corners of his lips. And he’s sure that his eyes are doing that dazed, adoring thing that they only get when around Jace—But he doesn’t even mind how sappy that is. “You are my adorably flustered boyfriend, who I thought agreed to move past the monosyllabic sentences.”

“Simon, just because I’m not prone to speaking essay length diatribes about whatever injustice I’m feeling is particularly bad that day—like you—Doesn’t mean I only speak one word at a time.”

“Kay, first of all point, even though my essay long diatribes so totally make your days a million times brighter.”

“Never said they didn’t.”

Simon can’t help his preening at that. “Yeah, well no matter how precious your little admission is—that doesn’t help you skirt around the second point. You are not as wily as you’d like to think Lightwood.”

“And what’s that second point Simon?”

“That we agreed to not keep secrets after that whole fairy incident—“

“Yeah, well I would’ve liked some warning before seeing that prick rub himself all over you right in front of me,” Jace mutters darkly—his eyes getting steely, the way they always do whenever Simon or one of their friends bring up that total mess of a mission to poke fun at how jealous the great and mighty sex god Jace Lightwood could get.

“Bro, we weren’t even dating—We just agreed to be friends after we agreed how immature that pissing match over Clary was. You totally had no right to curl up behind me and pretend that I was already taken.”

“I have no regrets, that fay was a total sleaze ball, and again. I most definitely am not your bro.”

Simon has half a mind to bring up that Jace was kinda a sleaze ball at that time too—Okay, well not really. Just a big, emotionally inept dork who had no idea how to tell Simon that he was totally hot for him. Simon’s pretty sure that Maia still thinks that Jace is that guy he postured around pretending he is, but Simon knows better. Jace is a big marshmallow who had a really shitty father who practically taught him from birth that loving anyone was signing your death warrant. Honestly, Simon is shocked that they’ve gotten this far in what’s objectively a pretty short amount of time. Whenever Simon brings up this little observation to Jace, he just continues on tracing the love rune onto Simon’s shoulder (And yeah, Simon so totally knows it’s the love rune but still hasn’t admitted to Jace that he memorized the rune book like the first week that Valentine was arrested and they actually had a moment to breathe.) and tucks his head a little deeper into the crook of Simon’s neck and shoulder.

“You’re you,” he would cautiously admit into the depth of the night—a pink tint touching the tops of his impossible cheekbones, and his heartbeat fluttering about a million times faster, Making Simon’s insides feel like  molten lava.

“Okay, we’ll return to that particular argument later on, you know after you tell me what’s really  bothering you.”

Simon almost expects Jace to just mutter out an “I’m fine,” and swagger away, leaving the sent of his blue Calvin Klein and about a million more questions in his wake. But he doesn’t storm off. Instead, he collapses back onto the duvet besides Simon—resting his head against the wall, and looking up at him from underneath his spider leg lashes.

“I’m scared that you’ll think I’m insane or warped.”

At that, Simon practically flails around so to sprawl himself half over Jace, and locks their hands together—squeezing them so he knows that Simon is right there. “That’s impossible Jace, Nothing you could say could make me think that.” When  it looks like his resolve is wavering, Simon just squeezes harder. “I’m not going anywhere.” It’s as close to an “I love you,” that either of them have ever gotten with each other—both to terrified that if they move to hard and fast with what they have, karma or providence or whatever shit show that’s been fucking up their lives so immensely will catch wind and ruin all they’ve built. So they never say it—Just reminding the other that he’s there, and he’ll never leave.

I—I’ve been having these dreams,” Jace admits, puncturing the precarious hush that has hugged around them—a stillness that once unnerved Simon, until he found that his center felt a lot more balanced whenever he was tangled into Jace’s embrace.

“Dreams?” Simon prods, gently—knowing all too well how difficult this is for the ordinarily stoic and ever proud Lightwood to do—allowing himself to admit acknowledge his weaknesses to anyone, let alone the one person who could probably destroy him without effort.

“About Valentine, and Sebastian. About my childhood I guess…The thing is it wasn’t all bad all the time. He was the only father that I knew—A father who made me spaghetti, and gave me my first Seraph Blade and read me bed time stories-“

“Yeah, stories about love being the worst type of cancer, and how killing makes you strong. Oh! And let’s not forget his stance on corporal  punishment and-“

“Simon,” Jace’s laugh is something light and soothing, a beautiful sound that is far too amused by how heated Simon is getting over the thought of anyone hurting Jace—especially a little ten year old version of him who couldn’t wait to be best friends with a falcon until his chickenshit of a father snapped it’s neck right in front of him.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t want you to get diluted into thinking that man isn’t a complete monster.”

His lips turn up into a small, almost sad smile. “Trust me Simon, I know—It’s just weird. I mean all this time he’s had another son he hid away from me. I just wonder sometimes if I knew, if I found him while training in the woods or something…Maybe Sebastian could’ve turned out different, you know? Maybe we could’ve escaped somehow? Or he could’ve moved in with the Lightwoods with me and he’d be on our side.”

Oh, and there it is.

Right when Simon thought he’s got Jace all figured out, the dude decides to throw him a total curve ball, showing just how compassionate and good he truly is.

“A dumb thought, yeah?”

“Hey, no shut your mouth. This is not my “Jace has a dumb thought,” face, I have that when you don’t think I could totally rock leather pants.”

“I just said that wasn’t you’re style, not that I wouldn’t thoroughly enjoy the view.”

Simon hurdles on as if Jace hadn’t spoken. “This my far too open hearted boyfriend is my besotted face.”

Jace blushes.

“It just sucks, the thought of what could’ve been. I or Clary even—We could’ve had an actual  brother, and he could’ve been human and happy and normal—I just feel guilty, and sad and I hate Valentine so much for all the ways he ravaged everything that ever got in his way.”

His voice tapers off to something quieter and more contemplative, like he’s lost himself in his own idealistic prospects of some sort of elusive life that they’ll never know.

Gingerly, Simon cups a hand over his cheek, and presses a feather light kiss onto his lips. A reminder over anything else.

“Runaway with me,” he mouths against him, causing a small, beautifully delighted peal of laughter to pour from him.

“And where do you think we’d go Simon?” Tendrils of warmth curl around Simon’s stomach at the sound of Jace sting his name like that—like something precious and fragile and so so  vital—like a prayer.

“I don’t care, just anywhere with you—And preferably wifi if that’s an option,” he rectifies after a thought.

“You’re insane,” Jace chuckles ruefully.

“And there’s nothing you could’ve done. Valentine kept you guys apart for a reason Jace.”

“And what’s that?” HE challenges with hiked brows.

“Because he knows that you are good, and was afraid that you would’ve inspired even someone infected with demonic poison to be better. Cause that’s what you do Jace, you make us all want to be better and stronger and inspire us that we can do it. That we can be like you.”

The kiss Jace gives him right then is something this edge of desperate and amazing.

“No matter what—I’m pretty sure that we would’v ended up here—in this bed…doing this over and over again.”

“Yeah-Yeah, I bet you say that to all your bedfellows.” Simon teases, but kissing back with as much fervor.

“NO, just you. always you.”

And yeah that is so totally sappy but Simon doesn’t mind, because he feels the same.


Good thing Alec is Jace’s parabatai, because he never does end up getting to that meeting.

And they do end up running away together—It’s just for a weekend at some winery upstate that Rebecca told Simon about. But it was probably the funnest get away in Simon’s life—Even if Magnus, and Alec, and Clary, and Izzy all end up crashing it half way through.

Notes: Thank you so much for the prompt <3 

Please go ahead and shoot me one if you’re interested 😁

Green is the Colour


Clara Velvet Collar Check Dress ℅ Joanie Clothing ✶ Tabbisocks Snowflakes Textile Knee Socks ✶ Vintage Velvet Beret via Fabgabs on EtsyBrit Stitch Half Pint Leather Satchel ASOS Suede Clogs

I’d been admiring all the cute and elegant offerings from Joanie Clothing for the past few months, ever since I saw their pieces on Em of Terrible Tumbles but this is the first time I tried on anything by them. I might be a little bit in love! Vintage clothing has forever been my jam, but plus size vintage clothes are hard to get hold of, especially from the pre-80s era. Which is why I always appreciate it when contemporary pieces somehow capture the feel of vintage without going overboard - like this green plaid dress from Joanie Clothing. I mean, look, it has a velvet collar and pockets! 

While plus size fashion is a lot more diverse now in terms of aesthetic than it was even 3 or 4 years ago, I still find that there’s a lack of cute, classic pieces. Stuff that’s simply cut with attention to detail and a general air of vintage. The Clara velvet collar dress ticks all those boxes. I sized upto the 20 as I wanted it to hang a little loosely on me, but it’s not necessary! The dress is quite roomy and the fabric is the stretchy, woolly, flannelly (not a real word) kind. 

I completed the outfit with a vintage velvet beret to offset the velvet collar, my favourite new pair of knee socks from Tabbisocks, low heel leather clogs, and my Brit Stitch satchel to match the red on my ankles. (Sticking quite doggedly to the fifth item rule, apparently!)

All photos by Shutter Diaries, Bangalore.

Follow me

IG | Twitter | FB | Pinterest