hope that you like it! :)

Steps 👣

Originally posted by hes-important94

A/N: This piece was written for @randomdancer17​ as it is her birthday today (go send her nice messages!!) … A while ago she mentioned how she wanted something that surrounded Perfect by Ed Sheeran so I hope it’s what you wanted Em!! 

This also matched a little with this request. Fair warning, I hadn’t edited this yet but leave some feedback here … Oh one more thing, this is the first installation to my “The Five Times Harry…” Series - this one is also called “The Five Times Harry Dances With You”  ♥

His foot always began to tap at the right song.

Even at a young age Harold would sway to every chime and bass that penetrated the walls of his home whenever his mum brought out her old vinyl player. He’d dash into the room grabbing at her hands as his weight would lift him up and down and up and down to the beat of the rhythm. He liked the way his mum would laugh at his dance moves, mimicking him to join the fun – which he had to admit felt rewarding since his sister would often complain about his pigeon-toed feet.

When little seven year old Harry found out he was going to his first wedding he was quite excited to say the least. His head nodded all the way through the church and into the reception hall. There’s a live band playing and he couldn’t wait to find the dance floor and pounce around with his mum.

Keep reading

- Amsterdam Adventures -

The small size of my bunk always used to be genuinely warm, comfortable and really welcoming, but tonight it was the complete opposite. The place of my rest seemed to be hard as rock and the blanket hovering over my body felt cold as snow. The only thing that still managed to successfully keep me warm was my girlfriend’s hand. Our palms were hanging from the bunks in one embrace. The hold of hers died long time ago as she fell into the arms of Morpheus.

You might ask why don’t we sleep in one bunk together, the answer is really easy – it’s all because of my giant posture. If we slept together in such a tiny surface she would wake up totally crushed.

Holding her hand wasn’t enough for me. I needed more of her, I wanted more of her. I craved her.

I craved her the way I craved water after an excellent workout.

I craved her the way I craved playing my guitar.

I craved her the way I never excepted to crave anyone.

Since our relationship started, each and every day I feel more and more attached to her. I feel the power of my adoration towards her grows stronger and stronger.

The power of love bestows responsibilities, but not rights. I have no right to her heart, but I am blessed to love her with my own. I have no right to her time, but I am honored to share the moments with her. It is for me to do what is best for her and not seek fulfillment of my own desires at an expense to her wellbeing.

The hands of the clock shows the late hour of 3:22am, what can I do now? What can I do when everyone is asleep, even the person I wish the most to be awake together with me.

Would she be mad at me if I woked her up?

Would she like the idea of us going for a night adventure in an absolutely unknown city, somewhere in Europe?

I slightly slide out of my tour bed, carefully trying to not wake up anyone else up, still holding her hand. I knelt down on the carpeted floor, stroking her back. I whispered, “hey, wake up!”

After being with someone in a relationship for longer period of time, you start to notice a bunch of oddly loving things, things that people who don’t have stronger bond with her wouldn’t know

What I learnt over the years is that she’s a deep sleeper. She loves to runway from everything in her dreams. In her sleep she’s a child again. She dreams of things past, things that will never be again. In her dreams she has comfort, freedom and love. When she wakes up she always takes her notebook and scrambles to write everything from her dream down, just in case there is wisdom in the randomness.

Personally I don’t believe in such a thing as a dream. The main reason behind my disbelief is probably my bad memory. I never really remember my dreams, but Y/N happens to remember everything in her sleep. Starting off with the characters, and ending off with the sound of melody that her imagined birds created. She is truly passionate about dreams.

I know that my whispering is completely pointless, but how can I wake her up differently without harming other’s peace?

Letting my hand slowly slide under the fluffy blanket, and then moving her shirt up I gently tapped her belly, in a big hope of triumphantly waking her up.

She smiled so lightly, I don’t really know if she’s smiling because of my hands or because of something that occurred in her dream.

“I’m guessing that’s it pretty late already, so why for the love of Lord are you tapping my stomach?” She asked. Her voice deep and harsh – like always when she wakes up. Her eyes were still closed. I felt that my hands are getting gentle slaps, she was trying to put her shirt down.

An unexpected chuckle left my lifted upward mouth, “I just couldn’t sleep. My bunk got so freaking uncomfortable. It was no fun and also, I got so bored, so I figured out that a small walk around Amsterdam would be nice.”

“Okay cool. Your plan seems awesome. Just go and make everything happen, and now leave me in my warm bunk in the holy calmness. Good night.” Her comment made me laugh even harder. “Seriously, fuck you, Shawn.” She put her blanket all the way to her head back.

My mom always taught me to fight for what I really wanted and needed.

“Okay. Okay Y/N. If you will ever want some more cuddles, I’m gonna tell you the exact same thing.”

It will work.

“Okay, fine. Let’s go.”

I told you.

Everything was happening so fast. Once we were running around the Dutch streets, then we were playing hide and seek, and how we’re just standing so close to each other that our chests are melting into one. Her warm hand reaches for mine and they interlock as we kiss tentatively, passionately and then, tenderly. The magical feeling causes me to shiver in complete pleasure and ecstasy.

We eventually had to pulled apart – breath was needed. It was difficult. The pink skin of our mouth felt so magnetic. I was the magnet, and she was the fridge.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” She whispers so I feel her warm breath on my neck. I wrinkle my nose in protest. “Aren’t I supposed to tell you all these things?”

“It doesn’t matter.” She said, looking straight into my eyes.

Those cinnamon colored eyes rimmed with thick, long, dark lashes that brushed her cheeks every time she closed her eyes. They looked so magical, so unreal. Every time I looked into them I nearly lost myself. Love, adoration, curiously; her eyes held all those deep seated emotions and many more. Over the years, I have learnt to read her through the emotions.

“I love you Y/n.”

And then she gives me a smile that just seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushes through me.

Everything felt just so right. Everything felt like I dream, I believed in this dream, and I never want it to be done.

Her heart is where I belong, and my heart is where she belongs.

anonymous asked:

Hi :) What does it mean when it says $5+/$10+ on Patreon? That it costs 5/10 dollars, but may be more in the future? How much more? Sorry, it's my first time on Patreon.

hey bab 💕 it just means that if you pledge “$10 or more” you have unlocked the reward tier for $10 and that you’ll get all rewards listed up to this tier

if your pledge is $7 you have pledged “$5 or more” so your rewards will be the same as if you pledged $5 because the next reward tier is $10

there will be more rewards in the future, i’ll add rewards for $15 or higher, but it will contain additional content (for which i don’t have the time yet)


I thought pride month would be a good time to finally post some prints I did! Especially since I’ve been using the last one as my icon forever. This is a series I did like three years ago for a printmaking class (linoleum reduction).

My Professor said it was too kitschy because there was a rainbow and gave me a B-, but I still really like it! 


misssophiachase  asked:

Hey, Luiza! Are you still doing those fantastic song prompts? It's possibly a little unknown but I love the song I Shall Believe by Sheryl Crow, it's one of my fave inspired Klaroline songs, would love to see it in one of your drabbles, only if possible of course : )

I’m sorry it took me a million years to do this. I hope you like it!

“You don’t get to do that to me,” Caroline said as she stormed into his room… No. Not his room, she realized. His painting room, judging by the Hybrid standing in front of a canvas, sleeves rolled up and Henley stained with paint – well, at least that shade of red seemed too bright to be blood, she thought.

Klaus didn’t take his eyes from his painting, his long fingers holding a brush with precision as he stroke colours into the canvas. “I’m not in the mood, love.”

“Yeah, most of the time I’m not in the mood for you either, but that’s never seemed to stop you,” Caroline snapped.

Play with me, she mentally begged. I need this right now, please.

This time he looked at her and she saw the anger in his eyes, the burning fury directed at her for the first time. Because she had doomed them all without any regrets, but worse than that – she had said awful things about him, repeatedly told him that she’d never be with someone like him, someone so dark and twisted… Only for her to murder twelve people without a second thought. Her characteristic hypocrisy was beginning to tire even her.

He had looked at her with annoyance before, irritation and even with hatred (though she supposed he only hated how much he couldn’t hate her), but she’d never gotten to admire the ire of Klaus Mikaelson up-close, to inspect the hardness in his stare and the golden flecks that sparked in his irises.

Caroline waited a moment, expecting him to yell at her, to exploit every single one of her weaknesses and leave her even more broken. But he stayed silent, taking her in. And she stayed silent, too. Not knowing what to say. Not knowing why she was even there.

She saw as his eyes scanned her face. Once. Twice. They took notice of her vacant stare, her red eyes, her trembling hands. Perhaps he noticed that her hair was messier than he’d ever seen, that she hadn’t bothered with make up.

She saw as his eyes softened – slowly, as if he was fighting it.

Then he sighed, put the brush down and wiped his hands with a piece of cloth. “What is it that you want, Caroline?”

He sounded tired too.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, “I just… I didn’t want to be alone.”

Klaus just looked at her for a few moments – moments that took too long to pass as she stood there, feeling completely exposed and vulnerable - and then he took a step forward and another, until he was right in front of her.

He nodded as if he understood, as if he too had suffered through too many nights where he wished that someone would hold him close. Even knowing that he was not just the monster others thought him to be, she found that so very unlike him she almost laughed.

Instead she sobbed, and he pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her awkwardly enough that she knew that he wasn’t used to comforting people – which wasn’t really a surprise – but even so, burying her head on the crook of his neck as his hand caressed her back soothingly instantly made her feel safe.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t absolve her of crimes or promised that everything was going to be ok. Nothing was ok and he was still so very furious at her, she could tell.

But he held her for a long time, letting her take as much comfort as she needed. 

Perhaps terrible people weren’t so terrible all the time.


happy birthday, seyma! @doumekism (●♡∀♡))ヾ☆*。