i have a thing for this photograph

anonymous asked:

YO WADDUP can i have some Kara/Lena fic recs pls?

Sure thing! Here’s my faves in alphabetical order. So it’s organized alsdkfj.

12″ by 8″ - muli-chapter - wip - CH: 11/? - Synopsis: Objectively, it’s a beautiful photograph. A high definition immortalisation of a kiss in the sky, two figures pressed impossibly close, hands tangled in hair and around waists as they hover sixty storeys in the air, illuminated gently by the neon of the CatCo Worldwide Media sign. But all she really sees when she looks at it is proof of Lena Luthor cheating on Kara Danvers. /// The one where Cat discovers that Lena’s stepping out with Supergirl (and decides to deal with the problem herself).

And They Were Roommates - multi-chapter - completed - CH: 2/2 - Synopsis:  Roommate AU.

Angel With a Broken Wing - oneshot - Synopsis: End of 2x08. Kara thanks Lena for her help.

A Knight to Remember - multi-chapter - wip - CH: 19/? - Synopsis:  Kara enters a sword-fighting tournament and wins the affections of princess Lena.

A Summer Sort of Girl - oneshot - Synopsis:  or…four times Lena didn’t know and the one time she did. 

Avoidance Strategies - muli-chapter - wip - CH: 5/? -  Synopsis: the one where Lena breaks up with Kara to keep her safe (from Lex’s men, from her world, from Lena herself), is heartbroken, and tries to distract herself by rebounding with Supergirl

Exception - oneshot - Synopsis:  or…four times lena doesn’t believe in love and the one time she does.

Extraordinary - oneshot - Synopsis:  or…lena comes to kara’s rescue. literally.

Family - oneshot - Synopsis:  or…kara tells everyone about lena.

Good Days Starts With Coffee and You - oneshot - Synopsis:  The ten times Lena enters the coffeeshop and encounters Kara.

Handling It - oneshot - Synopsis: Lena has a crush on Kara and she was handling it, until one day she wasn’t.

Here Comes Morning - oneshot - Synopsis: we didn’t get an ending supercorp scene so- sorry idek what this is

I Always Want You -  multi-chapter - completed - CH: 24/24 - Synopsis: Supercorp Hogwarts AU!

Inevitable - oneshot - Synopsis:  or…lena finds out about kara

It Runs In the Family - oneshot - Synopsis: I am so disappointed with this episode I waited so long to see katie mcgrath again and i did and she was so pretty but at what cost.anger writing is surprisingly therapeutic. this is what should’ve been a part of the winding-down scenes in 2x08, written in a furor as soon as I finished watching- let’s all just collectively repress the mon-el kiss now.

Lord, Save Me from Your Followers - multi-chapter - completed - CH: 8/8 - Synopsis: A tumblr prompt, spiraled out of control. Kara, perhaps out of a want for thoroughness in her story, perhaps out of a Millennial-born urge to creep on a the social media of a woman she finds intriguing, discovers that Lena Luthor has a pretty active following on Instagram one afternoon not long after their first meeting. She debates it, just for a moment, before following Lena.

My Own Private Gym - multip-chapter - wip - CH: 10/? -  Synopsis: Tumblr Prompt: Can you do something like lena goes to gym and see kara and you know…

Oblivious - multi-chapter - completed - CH: 5/5 - Synopsis: Lena has a crush on Kara. Lena’s too afraid to tell Kara. Obviously the only solution is to make Kara jealous by dating Supergirl.

Pictures and Notifications - muli-chapter - wip - CH: 7/? - Synopsis: Supercorp Social Media AU.

Soulmate Marks - oneshot - Synopsis: “ For most of her life, Lena’s soul marks were nothing less than very confusing.”

Supergirl In Training - multi-chapter - wip - CH: 6/? - Synopsis: Lena Luthor doesn’t plan to have any kids. Or to get married, even, really. After the revelation that she is actually of Luthor blood after all, she’s quite set on ending the family line with her and not taking the risk of any more drama.Then Lorelai L. Danvers crashes into her life, claiming to be her seventeen year old daughter from the future.

Wrap A Tape Measure Around Her Sorry Little Kryptonian Heart While You’re At It - oneshot - Synopsis: An overpowered assailant, clearly equipped with the necessary gear to weaken a Kryptonian, nearly destroys both Lena Luthor’s office and the Girl of Steel herself. Supergirl, a hair away from breaking limbs and cracking a skull, manages to defeat the assassin. However, what Kara may consider another day’s success for her and the DEO flunks Lena’s standards. The CEO of L-Corp decides that Supergirl should not simply make do with her self-destructive lifestyle and takes it upon herself to upgrade the Kryptonian’s suit.

Uncredited Photographer     Dr. Hunter S. Thompson During His Campaign for Sheriff, Aspen, Colorado     1970

“These are harsh words for a man only recently canonized by President Clinton and my old friend George McGovern — but I have written worse things about Nixon, many times, and the record will show that I kicked him repeatedly long before he went down. I beat him like a mad dog with mange every time I got a chance, and I am proud of it. He was scum… He could shake your hand and stab you in the back at the same time… If the right people had been in charge of Nixon’s funeral, his casket would have been launched into one of those open-sewage canals that empty into the ocean just south of Los Angeles. He was a swine of a man and a jabbering dupe of a president. Nixon was so crooked that he needed servants to help him screw his pants on every morning. Even his funeral was illegal… His body should have been burned in a trash bin… Nixon will be remembered as a classic case of a smart man shitting in his own nest. But he also shit in our nests, and that was the crime that history will burn on his memory like a brand. By disgracing and degrading the Presidency of the United States, by fleeing the White House like a diseased cur, Richard Nixon broke the heart of the American Dream.” Hunter S. Thompson, “He Was A Crook: Obituary on Richard Nixon, Rolling Stone  16 June 1994


I wonder what the good doctor would have made of Trump, since he was so mercilessly accurate in his many descriptions of the slimy Nixon, who now seems an honest and upright citizen in comparison to the utterly corrupt, venal, boorish monster who now sits at the same desk.

Okay, so a couple of things about this one.  I’m still trying to get a handle on doing women, and with Guinan, it actually looks better in person.  For some reason, whenever I photograph it, her chin looks WAY bigger than it does on paper.  I may have also underestimated the size of her hat…

Anyway - feedback welcome!


“Muhammad Ali was The Greatest. Period. If you just asked him, he’d tell you. He’d tell you he was the double greatest; that he’d ‘handcuffed lightning, thrown thunder into jail.’

But what made The Champ the greatest—what truly separated him from everyone else—is that everyone else would tell you pretty much the same thing.

Like everyone else on the planet, Michelle and I mourn his passing. But we’re also grateful to God for how fortunate we are to have known him, if just for a while; for how fortunate we all are that The Greatest chose to grace our time.

In my private study, just off the Oval Office, I keep a pair of his gloves on display, just under that iconic photograph of him—the young champ, just 22 years old, roaring like a lion over a fallen Sonny Liston. I was too young when it was taken to understand who he was—still Cassius Clay, already an Olympic Gold Medal winner, yet to set out on a spiritual journey that would lead him to his Muslim faith, exile him at the peak of his power, and set the stage for his return to greatness with a name as familiar to the downtrodden in the slums of Southeast Asia and the villages of Africa as it was to cheering crowds in Madison Square Garden.

'I am America,’ he once declared. 'I am the part you won’t recognize. But get used to me—black, confident, cocky; my name, not yours; my religion, not yours; my goals, my own. Get used to me.’

That’s the Ali I came to know as I came of age—not just as skilled a poet on the mic as he was a fighter in the ring, but a man who fought for what was right. A man who fought for us. He stood with King and Mandela; stood up when it was hard; spoke out when others wouldn’t. His fight outside the ring would cost him his title and his public standing. It would earn him enemies on the left and the right, make him reviled, and nearly send him to jail. But Ali stood his ground. And his victory helped us get used to the America we recognize today.

He wasn’t perfect, of course. For all his magic in the ring, he could be careless with his words, and full of contradictions as his faith evolved. But his wonderful, infectious, even innocent spirit ultimately won him more fans than foes—maybe because in him, we hoped to see something of ourselves. Later, as his physical powers ebbed, he became an even more powerful force for peace and reconciliation around the world. We saw a man who said he was so mean he’d make medicine sick reveal a soft spot, visiting children with illness and disability around the world, telling them they, too, could become the greatest. We watched a hero light a torch, and fight his greatest fight of all on the world stage once again; a battle against the disease that ravaged his body, but couldn’t take the spark from his eyes.

Muhammad Ali shook up the world. And the world is better for it. We are all better for it. Michelle and I send our deepest condolences to his family, and we pray that the greatest fighter of them all finally rests in peace.” —President Obama

i want someone to know me. not like “oh yea i know her” but actually genuinely knowing everything about me. i want someone to think of me and instantly know that i hate peas. i want someone to know the way i usually hold my pinky up when drinking (only) cold things. i want someone to randomly hug me even when it seems like im holding myself up, just because they know im not really okay. i want someone to know how i twirl my hair constantly and how i have to wait for my food to cool down before eating it. i want someone to know when im walking toward them just by the sound of my footsteps. i want someone to notice the way i push my glasses up and i want someone to automatically ask me “you gonna take a picture?” before i even reach for my phone when we see mixed colors in the sky or things i feel the need to take pictures of just because they know the types of things i photograph. i want someone to know that my favorite cereal is frosted flakes and when i go on car rides i always forget to put shoes on because i love to walk around barefoot so much, its become a bad habit. i want someone to know that my absolute favorite animal is elephants and i want someone to look at my handwriting and know instantly that its mine. i want someone to know and understand the way that i am because sometimes i have no idea why im this way myself. i want someone to want to know what goes on in my mind. i wanna be so close with someone that they know every goddamn fact there is to know about me.

Enjolras/Grantaire modern AU fic but written as Victor Hugo would have done

Chapter III: In which Enjolras and Grantaire encounter the crowd at the Louvre

Enjolras, striding imposingly up stairs with Grantaire at his heels, exited the Tuileries métro onto the rue de Rivoli. They followed the road east, alongside the Jardin des Tuileries, past the statue of Jeanne d’arc, then crossed through the Jardin…[etc]…and finally arrived in front of the Pyramide du Louvre.

‘It is no less busy than usual,’ remarked Enjolras, his youthful beauty striking even in the crowd of hundreds. 

‘That is what I said; even on a Tuesday morning on such an ugly day the tourists will flock to this grand triangle for the purpose of a single photograph. To have such motivation! Had I but an ounce of it for such a thing, my own portrait would be smiling on the wall alongside Mona Lisa herself,’ replied Grantaire. ‘But no matter, we are here for the heart, not the skin. And which is more important? Let us enter. If it is alright with you.’

Enjolras gently clasped his hand with a smile. ‘It is.’

Chapter IV: The Louvre

A few words on the Louvre. 

[9000 words redacted] 

Current mood. Lately my life has been in such a pleasant flurry in the best way. Things have just been falling into place simply from me keeping a positive mindset, speaking things into the universe and manifesting the things that I want. I’ve been so unbothered and just happy it almost feels too good to be true, but I’m grateful for what’s happening now. Also, I think this might be the happiest I’ve ever looked.. photographically at least. lol what was even going on? Also ..how are you guys?! Are you all well? How are you guys mentally? I love you all🌻


Exploring Ethiopia with Photographer Eyerusalem Jiregna

This post is in celebration of Women’s History Month. Throughout March, we’ll be highlighting the stories of women doing extraordinary things around the world.

Born and raised in Ethiopia’s capital city, Addis Ababa, 23-year-old Eyerusalem Jiregna (@eyerusalem_a_jiregna) knows a thing or two about fast-paced environments. But she also hopes that her photographs might inspire people to pause and look — really look — at the visual wonders that could be waiting around any corner. “I know that people have busy lives,” Eyerusalem says, “but when we’re rushing everywhere, we’re not seeing what’s around us. I want people to appreciate what’s in front of them, and I hope that my pictures can help make that happen.”

While she finds photographing people rewarding, Eyerusalem does find herself photographing women and girls more often than men. “Motherhood in Ethiopia is so significant, and the women here work so hard,” she says. “I want to try to share their stories through my photographs.”


In the Archie comics, Archie gets everything he wants and treats Betty and Veronica pretty badly. On the show, we basically have everything turned upside down. In the comics, Betty and Veronica are always fighting over Archie, and on our show, Betty and Veronica couldn’t really care less! It’s three girls doing their own thing — my character and her two minions — doing everything we can to find out who killed Jason. Nothing really involves men. I feel like that’s rare for TV, there’s always a strong love influence with the main character. Of course there’s some making out — gotta keep it steamy — but we’re all very independent which I love.

Madelaine Petsch photographed by  Maddie Cordoba for Galore

“I first met Frances Bean when she was 2 years old at a dinner with her mom (Courtney) and Anna Sui in 1994 at Bar Six in NYC.

I have always wanted to work with Frances. Her beauty, uniqueness, and strength is something I have long admired and respected.

Few things remain as constant as my continued inspiration from those whose honesty, integrity, courage, and curiosity lead them to explore and venture beyond preconceived boundaries.

Photographed by David Sims, I am pleased to share the first image of Frances Bean Cobain for our Spring/Summer 2017 campaign.” Marc Jacobs


“I’m not ashamed, and I’m not confused. Things have changed. And not just with me— we’re really allowed to encourage this new acceptance to develop and be awesome.Kristen Stewart photographed by Dan Martensen for Elle Magazine, November 2016

This image is the one I am most proud.  Made with an Olympus E-PL1.  Post edit production by Photo Shop Essentials 13.  This image will be my last for a short while as I will have eye surgery next week.  I put up black and white work for me, and color work for you.  If all goes well I will be back soon.  Remember, there is no such thing as a bad photograph, if YOU like it.  The work is totally subjective, so shoot for the moon, do not let anyone marginalize you or your work….Tommy


I was lucky to spend so much of my own time with so many great people. I spent a day with Billie Holiday in her garden level apartment on Central Park West. I brought my 3 year old daughter Leslie. I have a picture of Leslie on Billie’s lap while Billie is comforting her because she had a splinter or something. She was a lovely person, not at all the bitch that some have portrayed her to be. She had a collection of ivory elephants and told my daughter to go and pick out whatever one she wanted and she could keep it. Leslie has it to this day. I told Billie, “enough with the formal pictures” and we walked over to Central Park and I snapped some shots against some pine trees. She let me do whatever I wanted and these are some of the finest things I’ve done. She was lovely.
- Burt Goldblatt on photographing Billie Holiday, 1958

i was looking to sky, from one of your photo .. i started to paint  the sky .. and after i forgoted the trees  ,  it is my way  to translate your photo . like waiting something from the sky ?  .. :)  have a good day .. stéphane

Stéphane @peintre-stephane, what a wonderful surprise! I love your translation! It’s a very special thing when someone is inspired by one of my photographs, especially when it’s with your brushes and colors! *HUGS* and a big merci, my friend!! ♡♡

Voltron Model AU!!!

OK OK so hear me out ok
AU where Keith is a MODEL except he is hard to work with because of temper issues

-he constantly gets in fights with photographers!! 

- shiro is his manager and because he’s so lovely he always smooths things over for keith 

- LANCE?? also a model ok except he is much better to work with tbh unless he has to work with keith because then all that happens is fighting 

- lance’s manager hunk is always apologizing for lance hitting on the models

- risky conflict because shiro is keiths manager and shouldn’t get too close BUT OOPS HE IN LOVE 

- lots of “we can’t do this” and “but i really want to”

- lance having crises because he thinks keith will always be better than him!! (thanks @binart for this lil gem)

- there is also weird sexual tension with lance and keith when they have to do photoshoots together with a ton of “touch me HERE not THERE” and “i dont wanna touch you anywhere!” and “stop being a baby!”

- pidge photographs them a lot and she literally hates them but loves them at the same time because they MAKE BEAUTIFUL PICTURES TOGETHER but they never cooperate so it takes HOURS 

- makeup artists allura and coran who are basically like their parents and shiro is always venting to allura bc bffsies 

- pidge calls keith “legs” and calls lance “chin” but she calls shiro/hunk their actual names

- hunk forever stressing over what lance will do next “please dont make it harder than it already is!!”

- sexual tension gets so overwhelming keith doesn’t even know what to do

- shiro tells lance he is more capable than he THINKS csusing twinkle eyes lance to have tiny crush but keith notices this and?? gets angry ofC 


the photographer au

hi this is the most beautiful thing i have ever written

  • ‘model for me.’
  • in retrospect, that was not the best greeting to give a blonde stranger at 4am in a target, but fareeha’s never exactly been socially adept
  • the blonde stranger studies her, eyes crinkling in a funny way that makes fareeha’s stomach tingle gently.
  • ‘okay.’
  • the next day, the blonde stranger- angela, her name is angela, and fareeha does not believe she has ever heard so beautiful a name- smiles at her front door, and greets her with a soft voice
  • ‘so…’ she says, ‘do i just..?’
  • ‘please, place your things here.’ fareeha says, stepping aside, and letting angela inside.
  • angela lets out an impressed whistle when she sees fareeha’s apartment.
  • fareeha isn’t exactly short on money, but her home is decorated simply. it is tasteful, all white and grey marbles, minimalism at its finest.
  • angela turns back to her, and waits. fareeha is lost in her from a metre away, and she catches herself, smiling slightly in embarrassment.
  • ‘i’m sorry. it’s just- you’re- possibly the most beautiful person i’ve ever met.’
  • angela blinks at her, cheeks tinting pink. ‘that was-’
  • ‘-i’m sorry,’ fareeha interrupts, blushing. ‘that seemed- it was improper. but i would like to properly introduce myself.’
  • ‘i know who you are,’ angela says, and fareeha has seen many beautiful smiles, but this is the first that has made her breathless.
  • and then angela laughs, ears blushing. ‘i googled you,’ she confesses. ‘fareeha amari, owner of the amari gallery, one of the most promising artists today.’
  • ‘you’ve been reading the wrong things, i’m afraid,’ fareeha says, and her chest feels light and heavy at the same time, as if a too-deep breath would cause her lungs to break.
  • angela just smiles like she doesn’t believe her
  • they go through the contracts, and then angela claps her hands and waits expectantly. ‘what do i do?’
  • ‘um-’ fareeha starts ‘-with a model, i like to first just… look. understand you, but not too much.’
  • angela nods, and then she lifts her shirt and tosses it to the side, relaxing, leaning slightly to the side
  • fareeha blinks and angela smiles. ‘i know how this works,’ and fareeha just nods in mute understanding
  • fareeha studies her, drinking in every detail, how her deltoid connects smoothly with the graceful line of her collarbones up to the smooth curve of her throat, her entire body covered in pale skin so smooth that it might as well be white chocolate, poured over a model of muscles and tendons and bones
  • she undoes and reconstructs angela in a single breath
  • ‘you can-’ angela says unsteadily, and starts a little, ‘you can touch me, if you want. i know that helps.’
  • fareeha hums in understanding, and moves around her in a circle, skimming her fingers lightly over angela’s cheek, lifting a pale hand briefly to study it, running a hand over the soft rolls of angela’s stomach, before closing her eyes and lifting her hands to her face.
  • ‘may i?’ she asks in a whisper, and angela nods, chin brushing fareeha’s palm
  • slowly fingers slide over her jaw, up to her ears, pushing back a few golden strands of hair, ring finger curling against angela’s bottom lip, up to the delicate structure of her little nose, and angela’s eyelashes flutter like moths’ wings against the soft pad of fareeha’s thumb
  • when she opens her eyes, angela’s blue irises are dark, staring at her with an expression she has never seen. she blinks and it is gone, and angela smiles up at her.
  • she steps back, hands falling, and angela almost seems to follow her touch.
  • she leans back and smiles slightly unsurely, mouth quirking, and fareeha turns away, reaching for her paints
  • ‘smile,’ she says softly, and angela blinks at her, standing there in her sports bra and leggings.
  • and then fareeha dips her fingers in blue paint and streaks it over angela’s cheek, up to the corner of her eye. angela protests with a laugh that turns into a whine as she shivers at the cold of the paint against her skin.
  • ‘what are you doing?’ she demands
  • fareeha smiles deviously, dips her blue-stained fingers in gold, carelessly mixing the paints together, ah, what the hell, it looks good, anyways, and runs her hand over the hard slope of angela’s collarbones, sliding to her back, letting it drip down her shoulder blades, staining her bra
  • ‘i’m painting,’ she responds, ‘and maybe you should take that off.’
  • angela blinks at her, before her grin turns challenging, and then she pulls her bra off. fareeha gapes at her, taken aback- she didn’t expect her to actually do it.
  • ‘your contract involved nude modeling,’ angela points out, smiling devilishly and then reaches for the paints, grabbing a palmful of green and spilling it down her front before pulling her pants off as well, laughing and stealing some of the purple, drawing a few messy violets on her thigh
  • fareeha just stares at her before smiling, and then angela reaches for the blue again, and draws a line around the back of fareeha’s neck, drawing her closer, and then she unconsciously (very consciously) leans up, eyes sliding half-closed
  • they both freeze.
  • ‘um.’ angela says. ‘do you-’
  • ‘i should- i’m sorry-’
  • ‘no, no, i’ll move,’ angela interrupts.
  • her hand is most decidedly not moving.
  • ‘um-’
  • angela’s breath brushes fareeha’s lips. ‘can i kiss you?’
  • fareeha gives her the strangest look, and angela starts to move back- maybe she should start her walk of shame now- and then fareeha half-smiles.
  • ‘why would i ever say no?’
  • and then they’re kissing, and goddamn if it’s not the most beautiful thing she’s ever done
  • fareeha lifts her onto the countertop, hands strong underneath gold-painted thighs
  • angela lands halfway in the paints, colours streaking her body
  • together, they paint the white sheets of fareeha’s bed a beautiful mess of colours
  • the next morning, angela takes fareeha’s hand, dips it in red paint, and presses it to her heart. the rest of the paint is fading, and the handprint stands out sharply.
  • fareeha doesn’t know what to say, so she takes a picture.

Kent didn’t remember it, but clearly his mother did and she photographic evidence.

“Aw, you are looking so–” Kent didn’t understand the last Russian word that Tater had slipped in there.

“I don’t even want to know if that’s a good thing,” Kent muttered from the couch.

Tater looked up from the picture album he was currently thumbing through with an impish smile. Kent stuck out his tongue, just as his mother came back from the kitchen with a plate of Christmas cookies.

She glanced over at the picture Tater was smirking at and sighed fondly. “Oh yes, that one. Kenny always did have a fondness for cats.”

“He is bigger Kit,” Tater agreed.

His mom put the plate down on the coffee table. “I remember that year for Halloween, we barely had enough money to cover rent. I couldn’t afford to buy him a costume and I have no sewing skills to speak of. Kenny, I think you were three or four at the time?” She pulled the photo out of the plastic sleeve and held it up for him. He squinted dimly at it and shrugged.

“Maybe.” He made a mental note to contact Tater’s parents for embarrassing childhood photos as payback.

“So, the neighbors had this cat that Kent loved to play with, and come Halloween, Kent wanted to be a cat. He was very insistent on being “Kitty”. That was what he called the cat, by the way.”

“Only because they named him something stupid and unpronounceable,” Kent threw out.

His mother gave him an amused look. “His name was Caesar, dear.”

“‘Kitty’ was a better name.”

“Anyways, the best thing I cat costume I could come up on a limited budget was dress him in black  and then draw on the nose and the whiskers with my makeup. I bought the ears for fifty cents at a thrift store.”

“He not have tail?” Tater asked?

“Oh, he had a tail. I cut an old shirt of mine and stuffed it with leftover cotton from a pillow.” She laughed, but it was tinged with sadness.

Kent remembered those years when his mother had to work two jobs trying to make ends meet. His hockey was expensive, and he had lost count of the number of times he had told his mother he would quit, only to have her shake her head and tell him that they would make it work… somehow.

He got up from the plush, oversized chair and went to go settle on the arm rest by his mother. “Thank you,” he said sincerely as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

“You were so happy,” she sniffed. “You didn’t even care that the tail was literally stapled shut at the seams.”

“I’m happy I have you.” Kent said softly. “Both of you,” he added with a glance towards Tater who met his warm gaze. Kit, who must have sensed that she was being left out, abandoned her watch from under the tree and came over to jump on Tater’s lap. “All of you,” Kent amended when she joined them.

And he was.


Look, someone mentioned the other day that Kent Parson probably has a picture of himself with the cat face drawn on (or something like that), but I can’t find the post. Please help me so I can give proper credit to the idea. :)