i had to remove so much colouring

Smoker - Request

Requested by @hannah-aureum: i just found the greatest picture of Tom felton (Draco) if you would ever write about hermione or the reader showing him muggle things to calm him down after the war 💞 (like cigarettes because he’s smoking in it lmao).

Hidden word courtesy of @lame-lozer: Fillet - A fleshy boneless piece of meat from near the loins or the ribs of an animal.

Pairing: Draco x reader/Hermione (I never mention her name so it can be both)

Word count: 1.814

Also, smoking!Draco and a very very very very discreet sexual innuendo.

A/N: I’m not sure I like this one, I feel like it’s too off character but you’ll be the judges. Also, I’m not good at being romantic.
Also, also, this was due for yesterday but I had trouble and it didn’t upload.


Originally posted by dramione-feltson-forever

The street was loud and crowded. The air smelled of fried food, dirt and smog, and the sky looked grey and the ambience was humid. The cars honked loudly, the traffic was chaotic and the few people on foot couldn’t help but to complain just as much.

“London could use a new government, look at this street! I’ve never seen anything dirtier!”

“I hate this weather! It isn’t raining, but it isn’t sunny either!”

“Don’t you hate cars? They are loud and look at how polluted everything is because of them!”

They would complain day and night, craving for a magical solution to their problems but refusing to believe in magic at all.

There was a blond man leaning against the wall of a coffee shop, chuckling at every word he heard. It was all a joke to him; those people had no idea what it was really like, and it seemed like they would never know it at all.

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Lost Children

An expert from Draco’s trial

Luna was the next called to the stand. Things were going quickly enough that there was time to fit in one more witness before Kingsley called for the trial to be put on hold. Harry was glad it was Luna who went last. She told Fields that she didn’t believe she had been the only one trapped in Malfoy Manor during the war, and that Draco had been just as much as a prisoner as she had. She told them how Draco had done his best to look after her, and then at the end of her testimony she turned that disarmingly innocent smile on the court and told them to stop looking for the boy they wanted to see and to see the boy that Draco was becoming.

“I think his soul is beautiful. It used to be so dark, and now it shines silver. Don’t you see how cruel it is to remove his soul when it still has so many colours left to learn?”

Kingsley rubbed his temples as Luna was escorted off the witness stand. She paused by Draco and smiled at him.

“There’s a handsome streak of green if you look closely, just here,” Luna mused, leaning in closer. The Aurors went to stop her, but then decided that she was too crazy to do any damage. Draco just stared back at her dumbly. The entire court had lost the ability to speak after witnessing Luna Lovegood. Harry loved her for that.

Sighing, Kingsley flicked his wand. “I think that’s a good place to leave it. We will continue the trial of Draco Lucius Malfoy tomorrow morning.”

Everyone started to file out of the courtroom, and Harry followed. He wanted to try catch a word with Draco outside. However, Harry quickly realised that Draco was being led straight back to the holding cells.

Harry knew he wasn’t thinking straight as he barged through the crowds, stopping short just in front of Draco. Harry could feel all the reporters’ eyes on him, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care because Draco was looking at him, and there was hope shining back in those silver eyes.

Harry certainly wasn’t thinking as he surged forward and pulled Draco into a harsh, desperate kiss, his hand knotting in Draco’s prison robes.

A loud cough sounded from beside him and he turned to see one of the Aurors, who was blushing and refusing to meet Harry’s eyes.

“If you don’t mind, Mr Potter, we, urm, need to return, the prisoner, urm, Mr Malfoy here to his cell…”

Harry nodded, letting go of Draco, who was biting his lip and trying not to smirk. Harry grinned ruefully, “Of course.”

“You don’t mind me being dragged off to a cell?” Draco sniffed, but Harry could see the amusement in his eyes.

The Aurors shot Harry panicked glances, and he shook his head at them. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Draco,” he promised.

“I’ll see you, Harry,” Draco nodded, letting the Aurors drag him away. Harry smiled at the sound of Draco’s plummy voice snapping, “Honestly, I can walk by myself.” If Draco were being rude it meant he had hope.

Harry couldn’t believe his life had come to a place where he was glad to see Draco sodding Malfoy being rude.

“What’s so funny?” Ginny asked as he wandered back over to them, a smile on his lips.

Harry shook his head and followed them out of the court, “Nothing.”

They were going to win. If they could overcome Nott’s argument, then they’d be able to take on Goyle and whatever negative things Neville said. Plus, Harry was excited to see Fields go up against Pansy and Blaise. Hope thrummed through Harry as he left the Ministry. They were going to win.

The fic is complete!!


Against The Wall;

Originally posted by taegnsic

Summary: In which Changkyun comes home frustrated all because of you.

Disclaimer: All the things that are mentioned in this are words of fiction aka it’s not real. I’ve literally just made this up and as always credits to @taegnsic for the gif

Members: Changkyun from Monsta x  & female reader

Rating: Mature


Note: here is the texts that you sent to kyun

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t o i l & t r o u b l e

( draco x reader )

you and draco are in the same potions class. though you’ve never spoken, an unfortunate accident on draco’s part leaves him momentarily vulnerable, so you come to his aid. 1.8k+ words.

nothing, really. unless you’re uncomfortable with the word “bloody”.

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You guys ROCK!!

Haha, seriously. I love you. You lot brighten my day and actually make me excited to write, something that hasn’t happened in a long time. So thank you. 

I still get so anxious when I post something on here. Many of you are such fantastic writers and the fact you take to time to read what I’ve written warms my soul. THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! 

I hope you enjoy this. It’s a bit long, so I put it under a cut.

ETA: I have no medical knowledge, so please excuse the inaccuracies.

It was the phone call no one ever hopes to get.

Astrid was halfway through her first class of the morning when her phone went off, earning her a disapproving look from her tutor. Not recognising the number, Astrid silenced her phone and went back to work.

Ten minutes later she could feel her phone vibrating in her pocket again, a quick glance told her it was the same number. Astrid excused herself from her group and ducked out of the room to answer the call.


“Hi this is Carol, I’m a nurse calling from Ravens Point Public Hospital. This number was listed under emergency contacts for a patient who was brought in this morning. Who am I talking to?”

Astrid’s blood ran cold.

“Uh, Astrid. I’m Astrid,” she stuttered.

“I’m hoping you can help me,” Carol continued. “The young man who was brought in, he’s going to be okay, he gave us your name when we asked if we could call anyone for him.” There was an indistinguishable murmur as though the nurse was talking to someone on the other side, but Astrid could not make out what they were saying. “He seems a bit confused. His ID lists him as Henry, but he keeps telling us his name is… uh Hiccup?” Carol finished.

“No,” it was more breath than word, escaping with the blood that drained from Astrid’s face, leaving her feeling dizzy and lightheaded.

“Astrid?” Carol sounded worried.

“H-hiccup, it’s a nickname,” she was on autopilot as she confirmed Hiccup’s details. “Uh, I can give you his Dad’s number-“

This time Astrid heard the nasal voice in the background. “Please don’t call my dad.” Relieved to hear his voice, Astrid slid to the floor in the corridor.

“Hiccup! Can I talk to him? Please, I’m his girlfriend.”

“Sure honey, I’ll put him on.”

More inaudible muttering and the phone seemed to change hands.

“Hey As,” Hiccup’s voice sounded strained and tired.

“What happened?” Astrid asked. “I just saw you two hours ago, and you were fine!”

“Crazy thing really. I was riding my bike to work, and there was this car that ran a light. It doesn’t matter. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“You better be,” Astrid warned. She picked herself up off the floor. “I’m heading to the hospital now. I’ll be there in twenty minutes okay?”

She heard Hiccup mumble something in response, before Carol the nurse returned to the phone. “Just ask for me when you get to the desk,” she was saying. Astrid wasn’t listening, she was already rushing to pick up her books when the line was disconnected.

Her keys were back in her room. Astrid sprinted back to the dormitories to dump her things and grab her wallet and car keys. The drive to the hospital itself was a blur and finding a carpark was a nightmare, but the time gave Astrid a chance to calm down. She’d spoken to Hiccup and he was okay. She was still anxious to see him and she walked quickly through the doors into the Emergency waiting room and up to the nurse on the desk.

“My boyfriend Hiccu- Henry Haddock was brought in. I was told to ask for Carol?” She waited impatiently, fingers drumming nervously on the counter as the nurse in front of her made a call.

“Just come round to the door dear.”

Astrid did as she was told and waited to be buzzed though. Another nurse led her past the curtained off beds into an empty cubicle. Well, an almost empty cubicle. Astrid caught sight of Hiccup’s discarded prosthetic leg or what was left of it. Once again she felt the breath rush out of her.

“Wait here, Carol will be by in a minute.”

The older woman turned to leave.

“Wait? Where’s Hiccup?”

“He’ll be back in a few minutes,” another nurse bustled into the small area cleaning away equipment that wasn’t needed. The woman reminded Astrid of her own mother with her dark blonde hair and warm eyes.

“He’s a very, very lucky young man. I’m Carol, I spoke to you earlier.”

Astrid found herself being guided to a chair. A small part of her was embarrassed for the way she was reacting. Mostly she was glad for the motherly figure who pulled up another seat so that they could talk face to face.

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The concept behind this curry intrigued me. Using medicinal Chinese herbs as its foundation? In saying that, I was a bit thrown about whether I should be using it since not a well practised herbalist and all, and that it might cause averse effects to the body if not used in correct harmony since that is a major factor. Together, the four herbs are used to enrich blood, reducing sallow complexion, dizziness etc. It’s also good for menstruation. The taste is .. interesting. Given how this was purely from following the cues set in the anime and manga and without foolproof measurements, I can’t say what I made is how it was intended to be. Follow your tastebuds! I find that after a chance to settle overnight, the flavour improves marginally. If your area of expertise is Traditional Chinese Medicine, feel free to bombard with your wisdom.

Arato Hisako’s Mutton Shimotsuto Curry Recipe

Mutton (.. or lamb shank), 2 carrots, 1 potato, shaoxing wine, rice, onions, coriander, leek

4 substance decoction & spices: dihuang, peony root, dongdanggui, szechuan lovage, fennel seeds, star anise and tumeric

I lasted 10 seconds with the mortar and pestle before I had to switch.

Begin by coarsely grinding the herbs and spices. My initial batch had too much star anise so I abandoned that and added more tumeric to mimc its colour in the anime

Stew for 1 hour to extract their active ingredients.

Slice potatoes into 1 cm rounds (Hisako leaves them unpeeled, a girl after my heart! Habitually however, I ended up removing the peel .. then opting for a new one), slice carrots and leek diagonally for elongated slices, slice onion into wedges.

Add vegetables and mutton and simmer until tender. Lamb shank took a few hours.

Add shaoxing wine and boil for a few minutes to evaporate alcohol.

Serve with rice and chopped coriander, arrange vegetables.

Hmmmm, don’t know whether I should endorse making it or not.

Date Night - Balthazar

Request: Anon who wanted Balthazar date: Maybe a date night on the lake? Campfires, swimming, s'mores, just extra romantic (Cause that’s how I Imagine Balthazar)? Would that work?

Triggers: None

Word Count: 3334

Y/N = Your name, Y/H/C = Your hair colour

Other date nights:  Sam   Samandriel  Castiel   Kevin  Gabriel  Dean  Michael

Hope you like it! I changed s’mores for just marshmallows, cause I’ve never had s’mores and honestly I have no idea how to make ‘em or how they taste XD

“Are you ready to go (Y/N)?” Your boyfriend’s voice came from the door of your bedroom, causing you to almost trip as you spun to face him, still holding onto the two coats. You’d been in the middle of contemplating whether it was too cold outside to wear just a thin windbreaker after dinner and hadn’t even heard the familiar flutter of wings that usually signalled Balthazar’s arrival.

“Almost,” You grimaced, holding up the two coats to show your current dilemma. But they way your body heated up just from seeing the smiling face of the man you loved made your little inner debate seem silly. Dropping the coats to the bed you wrapped your arms around his neck when he came closer to you and gave him a quick peck hello. “Mind telling me where we’re going so that I can make sure I’m dressed right and I don’t die from pneumonia?”

“It’s summer sweetheart. And what’s more, you’ve got me,” Balthazar chuckled. Clearly he wasn’t planning on letting you know the details of the evening’s date just yet. The soft smile on his lips reached all the way up to steel blue eyes as he rested his forehead against yours for a second before picking up the thin windbreaker. Holding it out he helped you slip it on before he wrapped an arm securely around your waist. “Go with the thin one, that way you have to stick closer to me,” He grinned, the boyish smile making the angel seem younger than he was as you reached up to tussle his spiked blonde hair.

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Let’s discuss sharpening

Here I am at 2am talking about sharpening on anime gifs with about 10 hours sleep, never thought i’d be talking about sharpening like this but alas, i’ve seen 1 too many gifs like this so I thought about bringing it up.

Sharpening, a wonderful tool to help your gifs look nicer. Unfortunately theres literally everyone in the community abusing it. I’m not really sure why people don’t actually notice this issue, or just turn a blind eye to it, but the issue with gif-makers over-sharpening their gifs is quite real. I’d say about 80% anime gifs made nowadays are over-sharpened, at the very least from what i’ve seen going around its about that percentage. So let’s get into it!

Here is a normal anime cap

nothing wrong with it, just a normal cap resized to 540px by 304px, the standard tumblr gif size.

Here is the cap sharpened and surface blur added

looks nice right?, not too sharp, no white halos around the lines and it makes the lines stand out just a little bit. 

Now heres the same cap with the same sharpening and surface blur from the top example, except this one is sharpened a bit differently, I won’t say whats different about the two but the lines stand out more in this cap, overall looks nice and allows the gif to look more pleasant.

This is not what I see on tumblr right now. What I see is sharpening done to the extreme. 

Like this example

this cap right here, is over-sharpened to the max, the lines are so much thicker and edgier and all the little details that really shouldn’t be shown are brought out. This is not how it should look like at all. Sharpening should not be this noticeable on gifs/caps/edits, sharpening is just meant to be a small enhancement to the gif not be the entire gif itself.

Here i’ve pointed out some things to take into consideration when sharpening, look at the highlights and shadows, they actually have gotten solid lines on them from the sharpening, this obviously should not happen, so when you go to sharpen next time look at your shadows and highlights and make sure you don’t make them look like actual lines. Basic tip is just sharpen 150 by 0.3, most of your gifs should look fine with that setting. (But you can obviously fine tune it for every gif)

Last example

right side is obviously the over-sharpened side and left side is the nicely sharpened side, the difference is huge. Left side is so much more natural and smoother while still retaining a bit of sharpening to it which makes it look great. Right side is just a huge mess with shadows and highlights being clearly visible and the whole thing just looks edgier and messier really. 

Sharpening is just an enhancement, like surface blur if you overuse it, it will turn your gifs into shit and make you stand out as a PS noob really. Colouring your gifs nicely is really the only priority most people should have and should try learn better. Sharpening it this much will not help you make better gifs. There’s also the topic of other filters but i’ll leave those for another day.

P.S I’ve done it before too so don’t feel too down if your only noticing your sharpening now, i’ve had to spend months trying to figure it out but hopefully this will help you realise the difference much faster than I spent time figuring it out :)

EDIT: removing read more as my blog blurs out the images a bit which renders the advice useless LOL

Hate at First Sight (pt 1)- Peter Parker Imagine

hey guys! there will be a part 2 simply because I love this idea too much to do it all in one part. sent in from @l-moriarty-who :Can you do number 37 and 7? Where the girl really dislikes Peter at first cause he’s so smart (and they have a bit of a rivalry cause she’s super smart too) and then she finds out he met Tony Stark and shows up at  his house. And then it progresses to them becoming friends and then to dating. They would probably banter and sass each other a lot! This would be so awesome! Thanks! (prompts from this post: http://fierce-flame.tumblr.com/post/144328193685/sentence-prompts)

Summary: Appalled at the fact that your intellectual rival is apparently is close with the renowned genius Tony Stark, you find yourself somehow enjoying his company.

Sentence Prompts: 37. “Why are you stealing my clothes?”+ 7. “I don’t believe in love at first sight, but I believe in hate at first sight.”

Part 2 here!: http://fierce-flame.tumblr.com/post/144581270810/hate-at-first-sight-pt-2-peter-parker-imagine

gif credit to: @natashabarnes (seriously, go check em out. great gifs, great blog)

Everything has a pattern, a rhythm. Eventually, the circle closes, the path ends, and becomes uniform. Everything’s trying to find its perfect still water, no ripples or changes. Yet someone always throws a pebble in, and the turbulent current returns. 

Your water had been perfectly still. It sat there in, in your clear plastic bottle with the filter and the pristine white cap. It had remained there, perfectly untouched until it was sent tumbling to the ground.

You looked up at the assailant, narrowing your eyes when you discovered it to be your intellectual rival, Peter Parker. You were a relatively nice person, but Peter got on your nerves like no other, like how on the rare occasion he made it to class only a few minutes late, it was panting and red-faced, breathing down your neck as he sat at his desk directly behind yours. The rivalry dated back to the freshmen physics fair when he narrowly beat out your wind turbine with a plasma conductor (how he got his hands on that, you had no idea) and had persisted since then. Neither of you had ever acknowledged the races you participated in, neck and neck to do better on the next test, get a higher mark on the next project. 

He looked down, palms leaving smudges on the surface as he bent down to pick the bottle up. “Sorry. Guess I should be looking where I’m going.” He strolled back to his seat, not taking notice of the crumpled white piece of paper that had fallen out of his pocket.

You had no intention of reading the note, simply picking it up to return it,  but as you leaned down, you saw on the corner the symbol of… Stark Industries? That couldn’t be right. You knew it was wrong, but you scanned the note. Pick you up at 7, kid. Got some new tech for you to try out. Tony. How could Parker of all people know the billionaire inventor well enough to be called kid? 

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So it was  @birate ‘s birthday ♡ and she had been rambling about all the day1 long distance KenHina stuff that had been flooding her (and my) dash… So I decided to make a late submission - 

 KenHina Week 2016- Day 1: Distance / Movies

I added my own twist to it. We live in two different countries and I really wanted to give her flowers for her birthday because she loves them so much, but I couldn’t do that, so I had these two dorks do it instead. 

I like to think that Kenma would just trust florist Sugawara to make a bouquet with the colours of the sunset/sunrise for Hinata, and Hinata would love it and be excited for the rest of the day ♡.

Please don’t repost to other websites and don’t remove credits. Thank you sweeties.

I have been so busy recently and haven’t had time to draw much but here is another chilly Gintoki sketch because my last one seemed popular. 

Please don’t remove source or repost anywhere.

Brown Eyed Girl

Hello My Lovelies,

For ease of access please find below links to all my previous stories.


Brown Eyed Girl


Hi! I’d just like to say that you’re my favourite blog by far! I was hoping if you’d write a Dean x reader fic where the reader is really self conscious about her brown eyes, to the point where sometimes it really gets her down, and Dean cheers her up about it? I know this might sound silly but my eyes are actually the part of my body I’m most self conscious about, so it would mean a lot! I understand if you don’t have the time though. So much love x ( @superlockreaderinserts-deactiva)

Authors Note:


Y/N watched as Dean hit on yet another blue-eyed blonde. Yesterday it was a green-eyed, brunette. The day before she had grey eyes. Never brown. Not once. She knew why. Brown was ugly. The colour of mud, of dirt of all the stuff a person tries to wash and remove from their body.

Sam told her she was being stupid. That the colour of a person’s eyes didn’t matter. His were brown. But his weren’t just brown, they had flecks of gold in them. Sometimes maybe green. She wasn’t sure. His eyes had no one exact colour. Not like hers.

Average, plain, normal and easy to forget. Mostly because people wanted to. The colour was often pushed into the dark depths of a person’s mind. Not like those stunning blue eyes that captivate a person, or even Dean’s green eyes, ones that haunt you in your sleep.

Y/N knew she was just being self conscious, but she couldn’t help it. Even as a teen she prayed she’d need glasses so she could get contacts and change the colour of her eyes. Even hazel would be better than what she had.

She sighed and swirled the whiskey round in her glass before downing it.

Dean walked over and she could feel him frowning at her before she even looked up.

‘You ok?’

‘Yeah, just tired.’

He looked over to where Sam was hustling pool and then back at Y/N.

‘Want me to take you back to the motel?’

Y/N glanced up at the blue eyed beauty at the bar and shook her head.

‘Looks like you already have plans. I’ll be fine.’

He went to protest when his date came over and snuggled into his side.

‘You’re sure?’ he asked again.

‘Yeah. Go enjoy yourself. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

She took the long walk back to the motel, slowly. Enjoying the fresh air, trying to distract herself with her surroundings. She made it back to the motel and spent the next couple of hours flicking through tv channels, trying to find something to brighten her mood. Another ¼ of a bottle of whiskey later, she managed to find a makeup app that allowed her to change her eye colour.

At first, it was all serious. The thrill of finally seeing herself with something other than eyes the colour of mud. But as the night wore on and she took more photo’s she found herself amused at how she looked with the stunning blue’s and green’s. It didn’t look like her at all.

And yet she still thought about how much better it looked compared to now.

She woke up, hung over and blearily eyed. Stumbling to the shower and cleaned up before making her way to the boy’s room.

She didn’t bother knocking, she never did. Not if they shared.

‘You look like a you fell into a bottle,’ Dean mumbled, shoving his face into his pillow.

‘What happened to the girl you fell into?’

‘Left her at the bar.’

‘Where’s Sammy?’ Y/N mumbled, caving and climbing into Sam’s bed. She felt like crap.

‘Breakfast run. I hope. He had better be. That and coffee,’ Dean muttered. ‘What was up with you last night?’

‘Nothing, just tired.’

‘Yeah, so tired you went straight back here to sleep.’

‘Piss off, Dean. What I do is my business,’ she snapped and rolled over.

She missed the sad look in Dean’s eyes, the frustration because she wouldn’t talk to him. Dean wanted more than anything for her to open up. To let him in. But every time he tried she blocked him. Put up walls and sunk further back into herself.

He had spent countless hours trying to figure it out. Sam had mentioned she was self conscious. But for the life of him, Dean couldn’t figure out why. Her body had curves that made a guy weak at the knees, her hair always seemed to do what she wanted when she wanted. He couldn’t ever remember her having a bad hair day. Her skin, despite countless years of hunting was always soft. Her lips were always moist and kissable. Not that he ever had, he wanted to but hadn’t. Her teeth were perfect. Her eyes where the window to her soul. He loved them. Her face rarely changed, sure she smiled, frowned, what ever. But this woman could look at you and go through a full range of emotions and the only thing that ever gave it away was her eyes. Her expression always remained neutral. She wasn’t a big talker, so he relied heavily on her eyes to tell him what he wanted to know.

He climbed into Sam’s bed behind her and lent over, brushing her hair from her eyes.


‘Argh, Dean you smell like a bar.’

‘Good, it will take you back to last night and you can tell me what was wrong,’ he grinned.

‘It was nothing, just stupid drunken crappy nothing.’

‘You weren’t drunk. Or I wouldn’t have let you go home alone.’

‘Do you have any idea how bad that you sound?’

Dean went to comment when she started again.

‘Or me sound,’ she frowned.

Dean dropped his head into the curve of her neck in exasperation.

‘That’s not what I meant. You know that. Y/N, talk to me. Please.’

The door handle rattled and Dean moved back, watching sadly and Y/N sat up, moving away from him.

Sam came through the door, watching the two of them, holding coffee and a bag of food.

‘God, please not in my bed.’

‘That won’t happen,’ Y/N sighed, standing, taking one of the cups and waiting for Sam to hand her a breakfast burrito.

‘Drunk dialling again last night?’ Sam asked, as he fished it out the bag.

‘Apparently I was not what you deem drunk,’ she muttered.

‘Y/N,’ Dean sighed.

‘I’ll see you two a bit later. Thanks for brekkie, Sammy. And ah, if you haven’t already don’t open and delete everything I sent you.’

‘Too late, you’re an idiot you know that right.’

She gave him a sad smile and walked out, closing the door behind her.

Dean walked in a short while later as she was finishing off her breakfast.

‘He’s joking right?’

‘Not sure. One of you is. I don’t remember much of last night, so I’m going with you are.’

‘You seriously hate your eyes? That’s what depresses you?’

She blinked at him, her face not changing once but the anger at Sam flared in her eyes. She didn’t need to say a word. Dean had his answer.

‘So while other chicks get upset about their weight, stretch marks, boobs, whatever you are upset over the colour of your eyes.’

‘You should probably leave. I want to shower.’


‘Well, you ain’t watching. Get out, Dean.’

‘Y/N,’ he sighed, walking over. He took her hand and sat her on the bed. Before grabbing a dining chair and pulling it up in front of her. ‘Seriously, your eyes? Why?’

‘Why not?’

Dean watched her and waited. She was in a mood. He knew he had put her there and he felt bad. But this whole thing had just annoyed him. It was stupid. She never spoke, never answered his question. She wouldn’t even look at him.

‘I just want to understand. I really don’t get what you hate about them,’ he prompted.

She still continued to look at everything but him.

He cupped her chin in his thumb and fore finger, forcing her to face him.

‘They are the prettiest eyes I’ve seen,’ he started.

His chest growing tight as she snorted.

‘I’m serious. I could look at them for hours. It’s like staring into a bowl of chocolate. Sweet, comforting, satisfying and turns a person into an addict wanting more.’

She finally raised her eyes to look at him, surprised.

‘And I can’t get enough, not matter how hard I look. Your eyes where what drew me to you in the first place. Do you remember that night we met on that hunt? Where the demon had set fire to that house? I took one look at your eyes and I knew you were going back in. You’d risk everything to save that kid. There was no thinking twice about it. I’d never seen so much strength, fearlessness and selflessness in a person.’

Her face softened slightly and he knew she remembered.

‘I knew then I wanted to get to know you better. As much as you had no interest in me. You made that clear. You didn’t even say anything, it was just that look you gave me as you crossed your arms and raised your eyebrow. I considered it a welcome challenge.’

He watched how her eye’s laughed, but her face didn’t change.

‘I knew you were screwing around, and I’ve spent every day since watching, waiting for proof that you were lying. Using my time to figure you out. You’ve got this whole mysterious persona happening. And my God you are one tough chick to crack.

‘Your eyes tell me everything. Despite the fact that your extremely good at keeping all that away from your face and body. Like now, your face screams blank, nothing, you don’t care. But your eyes, your eyes have softened, there’s a small smile in there, some pain and bit of hotness cos you know you want me,’ he grinned.

He watched as her eyes laughed at him and a slightly, barely noticeable smile appeared on her lips.

‘That’s what I thought,’ he chuckled. ‘They tell me who you are. What matters to you. If I’ve upset you, made you happy, if you’re worried or scared. Your eyes are my favourite part of you. And they are my favourite thing in this whole screwed up world.’

He watched as she bit her lip and tried to look away. He cupped her face in both hands and brought it back so she was looking at him.

‘They are the first and last thing I want to see every day. What I see when I close my eyes.’

‘You suck,’ she muttered.

Dean leaned in and placed a gently soft kiss on each of her eyes.

‘I seen the photo’s and the brown is definitely the way to go. I promise. I made Sam delete the rest. They weren’t you. I couldn’t see anything in those.’

He looked at her and saw defeat. He knew she had listened, that he had got through to her.

‘Now let me start on these lips. Cos I have a few things I want to say to them,’ he grinned, gently kissing her. His heart racing as she kissed him back.

He pulled back slightly and looked at her, grinning as he gently pushed her back onto the bed. Nothing looked hotter than her eyes right now, the desire, the emotions, the wanting. It was heaven.

sin-turies  asked:

what are the most disappointing eyeliners you have ever tried??

Given that I’m a fussy beauty blogger and a human with hooded, oily eyelids I’m very picky when it comes to eyeliners. I’ve tried some great ones, but I’ve also tried some pretty awful ones too. I’ve tried some disappointing drugstore ones, but the most disappointing ones of all were high end, after all when I’m shelling out the big bucks for an eyeliner I expect great results.

Keep reading

i just thought you’d like to see this

Thank you so much for the submission itd be good if only my work had been reposted on that account but i see so many colourings and art of other people from the fandom ,all i can do for now is either report to twitter or ask the account to credit me or remove it,thank you so much thoughfor showing me!


playing with Illustrator and Photoshop. Clearly I’m a novice but I loved the new album colour scheme so much I just had too. it took so long to remove a little bit of the overlapping but I’m happy with it. hope you guys love it too!

(P.S :- Added darker backgrounds so the font/pictures pop up even more. just a variety. I’m so happy you guys liking and sharing my work!)

Call me Jezza Slobovic — I’m fat, I have a tennis bat and I will win Wimbledon

My friend Jodie Kidd, who doesn’t want a job on Top Gear and hasn’t been asked, dropped round last week to say she had recently spat in a jar and then sent the sample away for DNA testing. “It’s great”, she said, “because they’ve worked out that I’m genetically averse to exercise.”

Of course I don’t need to go to such lengths because one glance at the greeny-brown docker’s oysters that I produce every morning is enough to tell even the most untrained observer that I too should not think about going for a run or joining a gym. Any form of exertion is plainly going to be beyond the capability of a lung that is gummed up with what looks like a Doctor Who special effect.

And yet I am 55 years old and well aware that unless I take steps soon I shall become like one of those ashen- faced Americans you see at airports, weeping tears of regret as they glide past a McDonald’s on a motorised scooter, surrounded by oxygen tanks, with tubes going up their noses.

I’m on the way already. I get out of breath pulling on my socks. My knees ache after scaling a doorstep. I get dizzy if I have to carry a six-pack of wine back from the corner shop. And my gut is now so enormous it looks like I have accidentally swallowed a space hopper.

The solution is obvious but impossible for someone with the determination and drive of a teenage cannabis enthusiast. I’ve tried the gym and it doesn’t work. It hurts me. And I’ve tried running but so far I haven’t made it out of the drive before collapsing. I just have no will power. And my pain barrier is so low, only single-cell entities could get underneath it. If I were to be tortured, I would reveal the attack plans and the location of our base if the baddie even so much as mentioned the word “pliers”.

I looked recently at all those people doing the London marathon in open-mouthed awe because to me running 26 yards is out of the question. I would sooner gouge my own eyes out with a spoon than run 26 miles.

To me the notion of doing exercise for the sake of getting fit is completely alien. Running when you’ve nowhere to go and you’re not late is impossible. And so is spending an hour in a room full of mirrors and priapic businessmen picking things up and putting them down again. It’s not that I don’t want to do that. I just can’t.

Sport, though, is different. With sport there’s a point. If you join a local football team you have some fun with your mates while trying to win a game. You get out of breath, up your heart rate and there’s a point, most notably in the pub afterwards.

But I can’t do football because I’m useless at it. Once I tried to take a penalty and — I’m not making this up — the nearest the ball got to the goalmouth was when it was on the spot. From the moment my foot connected with it, it was somehow moving away.
It’s the same story with snooker. People look at me for a while and you can hear them muttering to their mates, “Oh dear. There’s something wrong with him.” There is. To me, snooker proves there is such a word as “can’t”. And anyway, I’m told it’s not really a proper sport.

Tennis, though, is different. I’m good at tennis. Really good. Apart from the small fact that I cannot for the life of me do a forehand. When it comes to serving, I’m a tower of power with a hint of slice. Backhands? I’m your man. I can whack the bloody thing right into an opponent’s testes. I can chop or add topspin. I’m a backhand wizard.

But forehands? No. It either hits the net, or it loops in a crazy arc off the racket and into the neighbour’s vegetable garden. And not being able to do a forehand in tennis is like not being able to sing if you’re the singer in a band. It’s an issue.
So in an attempt to get fit while doing something I enjoy, and which I can mostly do, I have joined a local tennis club. It’s a fabulous place, set in a few acres of 1952. There are some grass courts and a bar where one can enjoy a refreshing glass of lemonade. There is also a coach whose beauty is so extraordinary many of her clients have been known to faint. And “portable” telephones are banned.

For my first session, I dressed in what I thought was a suitable uniform. I had a white T-shirt, a pair of what I understand are called “tracksuit bottoms” and some shoes I bought for no reason at Dubai airport in 1987.
I then needed a bat. But that’s fine because I have one. It’s been in the boot of my car for eight years in a snazzy and very modern-looking bat wrap. However, unfortunately when I removed it for my inauguration session, it turned out to be a Dunlop Maxply that looked like an LP that had been left on a radiator, in the sunshine, for about a century. Warped doesn’t quite cover it. Rolf Harris is warped. This was something else altogether.

After much thought I decided not to turn up at my new tennis club with a bent racket, especially as I was wearing a pair of shoes that were the same colour as my teeth. So I borrowed what was necessary when I got there and soon I’d used my forehand to send all of the balls onto Holland Park Avenue. This was a good thing because after 12 minutes I was completely exhausted.

However, I had enjoyed it very much and tomorrow morning I have my first lesson with the very beautiful eastern European coach. In my mind, by teatime, I will look like the bastard love child of Willem Dafoe and Jon Bon Jovi and I’ll have won Wimbledon by mid-July.

I won’t bother reporting back on my progress. You’ll know.

Preference: You have small boobs and he makes you feel better about then

Ashton: Today you and Ashton were going to the beach alone on a date. As you arrived at the white sand path, you and Ashton walked over and rented a great umbrella to chill under. You peered around only to see a few others girls your age supporting the most revealing bikinis money could buy. The coverup you had place over your body slid off while Ashton rubbed sunscreen all over your shoulders. You had always been insecure about you very small boobs. Ashton never seemed to mind, but it drove you crazy. Every girl here had two cantaloupes placed upon their chests while you only supported kiwi sized boobs. Ashton’s hands roamed you body covering it in the sunscreen. “Ashton I’m just gonna stay under here. I’m exhausted.” “Babe, what’s wrong?” You put the oversized t-shirt back on and avoided any glance from the public. “(Y/N) why are you just sitting here alone. We are at this beautiful beach for Pete’s sake.” “Well Ashton every girl here looks fantastic and I’m so flat chested.” “Love, let’s go home and I’ll show you how much I love your body because there is no reason why you should be insecure of something so beautiful.” Let’s just say Ashton showed how much he adored your body that night.

Luke: “(Y/N) are you ready to show me the dress?” Today was the day you were showing him your dress you bought for you friend Ivy’s birthday party. The dress was a deep maroon colour with a light black lace pattern across the skirt. The colours complimented your skin perfectly and made the beautiful eyes you had just stand out. It had removable straps that you decided to use as the only way to hold up the bodice. The straps were a life saver to you. Your boobs weren’t big enough to keep a lovely dress like this up. You adjusted the belt on your waist one more time before stepping out for Luke to see. “You look marvellous in that dress. It compliments your body shape perfectly.” “Luke but dont you think the top looks weird. I can’t even fill in the cups.” You frowned looking down at the dress. “Baby I think you fill it quite nicely. It’s stunning. I love you so much.” You chortled as silently as you could at Luke. “I love you too Lukey.”

Calum: “Now if we meet out on the street I won’t be running scared. I’ll walk right up to you and put one finger in the air…” You screamed the lyrics in the empty bedroom. Calum was making breakfast for you two downstairs. Just out of the shower, you walked over to the wardrobe near the closet opposite of the door. Your skin was still damp from the soaked towel. You stood in front of the full body mirror. You scanned up and down the skin reflected across from you. Your eyes paused at you chest and thought, “My boobs are the same size as they were in 6th grade.” Your focus stayed on your imperfections. “Why are you looking at your body like that (Y/N)?” Cal’s hands snaked their way around your hips. Never bothering to cover up or keep any secrets you muttered, “I have the smallest boobs I hate them so much. Don’t you hate them too Calum?” “Personally I love them. They fit perfectly in my hands when I’m teasing you. They are the perfect size when we are cuddling and I rest my head upon them. They are perfect in very way.” Calum responded. He littered small kisses along the sidled of your neck and continued them down till he reached the valley between your breasts. “I (kiss) love (kiss) your (kiss) boobs (kiss) so (kiss) much (kiss) darling.” He continued pecking your torso all day showing you just how much he loved them.

Michael: The shower water splashed around you. The heat infused into your skin and hydrated it slowly. You were home alone again and decided to clean your body and mind of anything negative. You started washing your arms with the Sun shower gel from Bath&Body Works. The golden magnolia scent was Michael’s weakness. You moved the soap down to your chest and washed in small circles. “I wish I had bigger boobs. Maybe if I did Michael would like me more.” You spoke into the silence. You continued to clean your body slowly taking all the time you had. You concentrated on you boobs wishing there was more to see. The shower curtain opened and closed in the beat of a heart. “I heard what you said earlier. It doesn’t matter how big your boobs are. If they were the size of Africa I’d love them as much as I love them now.” Michael kissed your sweet spot under your ear lightly. “Thank you.” You smirked into Michael’s neck turning to face him. “Anything for you babe. A lovely girl like you (Y/N) deserves to feel as pretty as you are.” His hand went to your boobs and rubbed them slowly, kissing them both. “I only wish you would love your body as much as I love it.”