i keep having no idea what to do with black and white pictures

Draw me Like one of your French Girls... Part 1


This fic is dedicated to @yunyin who was a big part of bringing it about in the first place ^_^ 

(Warning some spoilers for ML Season 2- (Just the stuff we knew during the hiatus nothing important from the new episodes) 

“Listen furball, I am ten times as sexy as you are. That is just a fact. People would pay to see pictures of me.”

“People DO pay to see pictures of me,” Chat shot back.

“What?”

“Never mind,” he grumbled, “the point is that I am obviously the sexier of the two of us.”

“Guys, I know this is a slow patrol night but you are giving me a headache,” Rena Rougue sighed, dropping down onto the platform and sprawling onto her stomach against the cool metal of the tower.

“Wait,” Chat said with a terrifying grin, “Rena. My dear, darling, friend.”

“Oh this can’t end well.”

“You are a fox of impeccable taste are you not?”

“Maybe.”

“And you are an excellent judge of both male and female attractiveness as well, are you not?”

“Ladybug is the hottest out of all of you,” she smirked, not bothering to get up.

“Yes, that is a given, but the point is-”

“The point is that I could pull off sexy far better than this mangy stray,” Bee interrupted.

“Could not.”

“Will you two please just stop fighting, it’s been too hot to deal with this level of stupid,” Rena sighed.

“It’s not stupid, my honor is at stake!” Bee huffed. “If you want us to stop then tell him that I clearly would be better suited to being a sex icon than he would.”

“Foxy lady, please tell Bee that she is clearly pollinating the wrong flower.”

Rena groaned. Clearly there would be no reasoning with the two of them until this had been hashed out.

Keep reading

A Simple Suggestion

<< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >>

Originally posted by akumatisedmari

So I had a dream last night. A dream that Ladybug and Chat Noir moved out of their homes into a studio apartment together so they could be around each other and get to akuma attacks quickly and always be alert.

But they never detransformed. They were always suited up and just lived together like two best friends and kept the city safe.

@philosophy-and-coffee said it’d make a neat fic idea and had a few cute ideas to add on to it, so…naturally, I wrote it. 

A Simple Suggestion
Summary: Breaks from patrol often allow time for Ladybug and Chat Noir to talk and be themselves. But when a silly joke starts to seem all that…well, not silly, the two find themselves considering something neither of them had ever before: moving in together. 
The tricky part is still keeping their identities a secret.
Rated: G (might change to T later)
Pairing(s): Ladybug/Chat Noir

Chapter 1 - A joke
Word count: 1,464
Read on: ao3 

Next Chapter >>


It had started out as a joke.

Chat Noir had thrown the idea into the air one night when they’d taken a break from patrol. The city was quiet, the breeze that danced through the open sky was refreshing, and the laughter that had accompanied his voice had made Marinette smile all too wide.

“What if we moved in together?” he’d asked with a nervous twitch of his tail. “I’ve been preparing to move out for a while, but…I don’t know. Something about the thought of living alone makes me nervous.”

“You mean-” Marinette’s eyes widened. “Us? Move in together? Like, Ladybug and Chat Noir living together?”

“Yeah,” Chat laughed. “What if?”

At first, she’d given her partner nothing more than a chuckle and a dismissive pat on the shoulder, shaking her head at the simple notion. It had been such a funny thing for him to suggest that the giggles that rose from her throat had been all too hard to suppress. Even if she secretly didn’t despise the idea, she knew it would never work out.

“How would we even manage that?” she asked, swinging her legs over the ledge of the apartment complex they had paused upon and taking in a breath of the atmosphere. She could detect a small hint of food cooking somewhere, and in the distance music played, which added to the comforting ambiance of the city she adored so much. “We’d just walk around in our own home transformed, like it was a completely normal thing?”

Chat Noir offered a shrug, looking a tad sheepish. “Hah, yeah, I guess that does sound kind of stupid.”

A frown replaced Marinette’s smile, and she felt a small hint of guilt for her previous comment. “Well,” she said in an attempt to fix her blunder. “I don’t know about stupid…”

“It would probably be weird,” Chat continued, “and awkward at times…and it wouldn’t be easy…”

Marinette nodded.

“…but I dunno,” he sighed, shifting his gaze. “Part of me thinks we’d be able to make it work.”

Allowing the thought to process, Marinette tapped her finger along the aged paneling of the roof they sat atop, teeth nibbling on her bottom lip as she sought for a reply.

Would they be able to make it work?

After all, she’d been thinking about moving out of the bakery soon due to space, and she didn’t like the idea of living alone either…and Alya was already sharing an apartment Nino…

“Maybe,” Marinette said, a hint of humor in her voice. “But we’d be together all the time, and I can’t exactly picture myself cooking dinner wearing a skin-tight suit. Even if it would protect me from burns.”

Chat supplied a small snort of laughter at her statement. “I guess that’s a bonus. Would living together be so weird, though?”

Marinette opened her mouth to answer with a “yes, of course!”, but paused as she couldn’t exactly find an explanation why it would be so odd for them to live together under those circumstances. Sure, it’d feel a bit off to walk around an apartment with her suit on, but by now Marinette was used to wearing polka-dots for long hours. She felt more natural in her transformation than she ever had five years prior when she was fourteen, freshly new to the world of superheroes and saving the city, and for a brief second the thought that maybe Chat’s idea wasn’t such a stupid one passed her mind.

It would be a hell of a lot more convenient for the both of them. They wouldn’t have to worry about when the other would show up during akuma attacks, or struggle going through a battle alone while one of them was on their way.

(Or, on the rare occurrence that a certain Ladybug slept in late during a rather difficult akuma attack, Chat Noir wouldn’t have to suffer through another hour of holding a violet butterfly within his paws and panicking over what he should do with it.)

A small grin twitched at the corner of Marinette’s mouth before a second thought passed her mind, causing the hint of a smile to fall.

She knew Chat Noir was dying to get out of his house. Nineteen years old and still suffocating under the watchful eye of his parents (parent?), Chat often expressed his sorrows about his home life with a forlorn sigh. Though he never delved too deeply into personal details, Marinette could tell just by the carefully worded sentences that he was having a difficult time staying happy in the house he’d lived in since he was a baby.

And, although she couldn’t relate, Marinette did feel for her friend. There were often times where she had considered begging Tikki to let them reveal their identities to each other just so she could take Chat Noir to the bakery and gift him a place to live that he looked forward to coming home to.

(Too many nights had she found Chat patrolling the city when there hadn’t been a scheduled patrol, after all.)

And now the words were on the tip of her tongue; the confirmation she knew her partner was secretly hoping for notwithstanding the fact that he was writing it off as a joke.

A joke that tugged at his lips in a sort of dejected smile that did not—would not—reach his eyes.

“I wonder how that would work,” Marinette whispered, eyes falling to the city streets below, where cars trailed lazily down the two-way street in a pale river of yellow lights. “Maybe we could make it work.”

One of Chat’s velvet ears twitched against his shaggy blond hair, and his eyes met hers for a fleeting moment. Even in the second of shared eye contact Marinette could see the tiny spark of hope that glowed within them, and she couldn’t stop the smile that began to spread across her face.

Maybe they could move in together. Sure, she’d have to talk to Tikki about it first, and they’d have to find an inconspicuous apartment in the middle of the city together, and it would wouldn’t be easy…

But…

But…no. That was just silly.

A silly, silly idea. It wouldn’t work out. How would they keep their identities secret? How would they be able to live life as normal civilians and go about their daily duties—work, university, grocery shopping—without revealing themselves?

You’ll never know until you try, a little voice peeped in the back of Marinette’s mind. What could be so bad about it?

What could be so bad? Well, they could accidentally come home destransformed, or sleepwalk in their pajamas, or both walk up to the front door at the same time without their suits on, or, or-

Or…what?

All of those situations could easily be avoided. They could set rules. Marinette could make masks so they wouldn’t have to be transformed all of the time, or they could turn out the lights every now and then. Or maybe they could set certain days where they would stay transformed so they could hang out.

Huh…the whole idea was beginning to seem a lot simpler than it had been three minutes ago.

Yeah, Marinette replied to the earlier thought, what could be so bad?

She knew of plenty of things that could be bad, as her anxiety had ways of creating the most outlandish situations. For now, however, she ignored them.

Looking over to Chat Noir, Marinette smiled, giving his back (which was slumped over in a sad sort of way) a gentle pat. He responded by sitting up straight, a question on his lips and hope in his gaze, ears perked up in interest. They stared at each other for a breath or two before Marinette exploded into a fit of laughter, her stomach clenching with the force of of her chortle.

Chat flinched at first, obviously surprised by her sudden outburst, but a second later he joined her in the ocean of giggles that had flooded between them. His smile was so wide that Marinette could see the white glint of his teeth and lovely crinkles around his eyes, as well as the shake of his shoulders and a single tear—whether it be from laughter or relief—that slid down his cheek.

And that was how Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Ladybug, nineteen-year-old baker’s daughter found herself transformed and heaving box after box into a two-bedroom apartment smack dab in the middle of Paris a month later with a black cat trailing just a step behind her, placing a few of his own boxes on the wide, empty wooden floor.

It had been a crazy, crazy idea.

But sometimes, Marinette knew, the craziest of ideas were the best of all.

Improve your pixel art sprites!

Introduction

In this tutorial, I will explain you how to use a couple techniques I used to improve Planet Centauri’s sprites before implementing them into the game (or before animating them).
Some of the rules shown here are very easy to use, and/or are purely  methodical;
so even if you aren’t very skilled, follow those simple guidelines to make your sprites cleaner.


Colors

A lot of basic mistakes will ruin the quality of your art.
Thankfully, they’re also generally quite easy to fix with some experience, and
by paying attention.


Too many colors

Pixel art is all about constraints. When two colors are very close, merge them into an intermediate one, so you see if it improves the result.
Using a small palette will help you improving your skills much more easily, and will make creating sprites also easier.
It also will make it easier to identify unwanted artifacts (i.e. misplaced pixels).


Gradients

If you are constructing a palette with gradients, avoid at any cost independent gradients (i.e. only dimmed/lighted base colors). Use gradients that depends on each other.

You can also try to use yellow-ish or cyan-ish saturated light colors, and blue-ish and purple-ish desaturated dark colors. However, avoid using an over-saturated or an under-saturated palette.
This usually ends up bad and breaks contrasts.
You should also use gradients with outspread tints to avoid washy color contrasts.

Remember never to use more colors than necessary, and use gradients with contrasted brightness.
Feel free to try using other generic palettes on your sprite to compare it with your palette so you can improve it.


Neighbor colors

Avoid as much as you can excessive contrasts between neighboring pixels.
For example, a black line over a white background usually won’t look natural.
A line that fits the background color well gives a realistic volume effect.

This is as true for outlines, which has to fit with both the inner color and the umbrage of the surface.

NB: Obviously, this doesn’t work with any graphic style.


Pillow shading

Pillow shading is a nasty effect that occurs when the light source comes from the front.

Avoid pillow shading, unless you really know what you’re doing.


Lines and curves

Perfect line: A line that has a constant vertical and horizontal step.

Perfect curve: A curve made of perfect lines which step always depends on the other parts of the curve.

Dirty line: A line that has at least one sub-segment with more than one adjacent pixel on one end.

As you may have noticed on the pictures above, dirty lines should be avoided.
You should use as much perfect lines and curves as possible.


Clusters

A cluster is a group, a pack of connected pixels with the same color.
Cluster shapes will greatly affect the final image.
Bony and crude clusters will give a sketchy aspect.
Round and straight lines are preferred so you get a precise, smooth and nice image.

Avoid lonely pixels. If one pixel is inside of a different color cluster without
any adjacent pixel with the same color, remove it.


Dithering et texturing

Contrary to popular belief, dithering isn’t as great as it seems. A lot of dithering between heavily contrasted colors will often give a dirty and noisy image.
It is also a very bad idea to use dithering when animating a sprite, because keeping coherent dithering will be awfully hard.

If you art style lets you do it, use texturing instead (the difference is that texturing does not induce color limitations).
But don’t forget, texturing means harder animation and worse clarity.
Again, it’s a matter of style.
If you want a cartoon-ish look, do not use dithering nor texturing.


Antialiasing

Antialiasing a technique that reduces the staircase effect (aliasing) which is clearly visible on two lines between two contrasted surfaces.

Internal AA

There are two use-cases for internal AA :
Simply separating two surfaces, and using lines or curves cutting through two different surfaces.

In the first case, you may just need to insert an intermediate color where aliasing is visible to reduce it (generally, when the curve abruptly changes).

In the second case, you may just need to add a small intermediate color cluster between every horizontal or vertical sub-segment.
Its size directly depends on the sub-segment size.


External AA

External AA suffers from an important restriction, unlike internal AA: The background color in a game will constantly change, so you need to have an effect that looks good on both dark and light backgrounds.

This rule is quite easy: You only apply the effect inside of the sprite.
The end of an outline that neighbors with the background should never be modified.

In this image, the internal AA effect applied on the outer part of the sprite unveils some nasty artifacts, while external AA, even if it isn’t as efficient, gives a great effect on any background type.


The end.

Simple Sigil Creation: A How-To Guide

One of the most common messages I get on Tumblr goes something like this: “What is your process for creating sigils? It can’t be as simple as scrambling up letters, so what’s the real secret?”

The truth is, there isn’t a secret. Making sigils is actually quite simple. Anyone can do it. Even for a complete newcomer, the process should take less time than a coffee break. While there are many, many ways to create sigils — magic squares, automatic drawing, grid overlays — the methods don’t really matter all that much.

In this post, I’m going to show the step-by-step method I used for creating the most recent sigil I’ve published. It came at the request of a young woman who wanted to catch the romantic attentions of another female. It said simply: “She will see me in a romantic way.”

As you can see, I’ve gone with the most basic sigil-creation method here. I’ve written out the text, and I’ve isolated the consonants from the sentence. While there is an “occult” tradition behind this method, I wouldn’t get hung up on thinking that it’s the “right” way to make a sigil. It’s no better than any other method, it’s just easier to explain.

This first step is meant to abstract the coherent words into a less-coherent jumble of letters. The words stop being as meaningful, but the symbols behind the sigil’s intent remain. To keep things simple — and to speed up my next step — I arrange these letters into a grid.

The next step is to abstract the remaining letters even further. Here, I’ve simply started combining elements of the letters together. I generally start by picking two letters from the grid of consonants, and start combining lines, curves, curls, dots, and other pieces of those letters together.

I try to keep these new symbols as simple as possible — four or five pencil strokes at most — because I’ll be further combining them in the next step.

From here, I generally play around with a few ideas, combining elements of symbols as I go. Sometimes these ideas come easily, as seen in the picture, but sometimes it can take pages and pages of sketches to find one I like. In particularly thorny situations, I’ll even start the entire process over from scratch, just to give myself a clean slate.

Once I’ve found a design I like, it’s time to start on the final design. Much like every other stage in the process, there is no one “right” way to do this. This is also the step where most people could happily stop. When the sigil looks and feels “right” to you, it’s done. The sigil is complete, if you want it to be.

In my case, however, I’m also making art for my website and social media. That means creating a version of the sigil that will (hopefully) catch other people’s eyes. There are countless ways to do this — charcoals, crayons, digital painting, markers — and I’ve experimented quite a bit over the years.

I also like to have an excuse to play with ink and brushes, so that’s how this one came together. I like that it’s a little unpredictable — with streaks and globs and splatter — and I’m always thrilled when a happy accident improves the design.

As you can see, I create tons of variations, tinkering with brush sizes, stroke direction, the amount of ink in the brush, and other stuff. While I liked some of these versions, none of them looked quite right. So, I kept going until I found one that did.

A few ink-soaked pages later, and this version was the clear winner. From here, it was just a matter of scanning the image in and doing a few technical things in Photoshop to make it look better in black and white. I add the text, the watermark, and … that’s it.

Here’s the finished version.

As you can see, there’s no great secret to making a sigil. Nor should there be. Sigils are about focusing intent, and even a few pencil scratches on notebook paper can become a perfectly wonderful sigil with the right intent behind it. Yes, some people (like me) like to do a little showing off with things they picked up from art class, but that should never be a barrier to creating your own personal sigils.

Questions? Thoughts? Leave a comment or drop me a message.

Skulls and Roses ☠️🥀

JUNGKOOK - COLLEGE AU, TATTOOIST AU. 

The best way to get someone’s attention is to get a tattoo or hit someone with your motorcycle. 

PART TWO

Originally posted by sugutie

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.” you sprint across the quad, pushing past students and jumping over bushes and benches like a track star doing hurdles. The chanting of the curse word only gets louder and faster once you looked down at your watch once again and saw that your class would start in less than a minute and you were a mile away from the science building.

You’re too distracted with staring at your watch that you don’t notice that you’re in the middle of the street until your face is touching the rough pavement and some random guy is sprawled beside you. At first, you think that it’s a boulder that had fallen from the mountains that surrounded your campus but when your vision focused on the black lump you realized it was a helmet.

Keep reading

cvvtx  asked:

Hi! This is really random but I bumped into one of your posts and I've ALWAYS been interested in witchcraft since I was really young. Recently I keep thinking about it and stuff but idk where to begin. I was wondering if you could tell me?:)

Sure, I’ll try my best! I do have a beginner tag where you can find this original post, but I’m going to copy and paste the majority of it for the purpose of this ask.

“I’m going to start off with three things you should consider before deciding to be a witch. These are not necessary, but are suggestions.

One - What is your primary goal or what you want to achieve from becoming a witch? If you are just interested in it for the aesthetic, or because you think it will make you look cool, I would reconsider the reason behind your interest. This isn’t to say that people haven’t come to witchcraft this way and have been successful, but it may take you longer to grow into. Something else to consider is that having this identity can be dangerous depending on your location and situation. Those that dress as witches for the aesthetic are probably not trying to be harmful, but can sometimes cause a false sense of belonging to those that are practicing witches. (I asked a girl once if she was a witch because she wore a pentacle and I was looking for a local friend and she laughed at me.) Being a witch is often lonely and kept as a personal identification.

Two - Witchcraft can be happy and sunshine and rainbows, but at it’s base it is not something to laugh about. Witchcraft is about using the world around you and bending it to your will. That is a huge responsibility to have on your shoulders, as what you do can often affect others around you, whether you mean it or not. You have to be able to accept that witchcraft means work, responsibility and dedication. It is not a toy.

Three - Not everything you see is up for grabs when it comes to magical practices. There is (yes, there is) such a thing as Cultural Appropriation and it is a harmful thing to spread and practice. I’ll leave you more information on this later, but the point is that not all practices and paths are open for you to explore. You need to be able to look at everything objectively and do research and ask questions. Where does this practice come from? Who started it? What culture is it from? More often than not, when you engage in these types of practices, you are not even getting the original information. Why would you want to so something that is just a half-assed version? It’s disrespectful and harmful to the actual, living people of color (POC) that still practice the original forms of magic or ideology that so easily gets passed off as “ancient and mystical” when it is really just a white-washed version.

Some other tidbits to keep in mind.

Magic is not black and/or white. It is a neutral force that you bend to your intentions. Calling “good” magic white, and “bad” magic black only propagates racial inequality and the subliminal message that POC are evil.

You don’t have to be Wiccan to be a witch. Wicca is a religion/cult/practice where members worship the god and goddess, revere nature and often use magic in order to supplement worship. They follow The Rede and the Three-Fold Law. Most of what you will see on Tumblr is actually Neo-Wicca, which does not require a practitioner to be initiated into a group by way of a Priestess or otherwise. Wicca is an initiatory cult. Neo-Wicca is based off of Wiccan teachings, and often allows the practitioner to be solitary.

You can follow a religion (any) or you can not follow a religion. Witchcraft can be viewed as a religion on its own, but generally speaking it is a practice that can be blended with religion or not.

Witchcraft does not equal Satanism - as Satanism has many forms and ideologies it branches to as well, some not even involving magic.

You don’t have to be pagan or worship any deities to be a witch.

You don’t need to be white to be a witch. (I’ve been asked this!!!)

You don’t need to be straight to be a witch.

You don’t need to be able-bodied to be a witch.

You don’t need crystals.

You don’t need fancy tools.

You don’t need to read Tarot.

You don’t need an Ouija board.

You don’t need to communicate with spirits.

You don’t need a familiar.

You don’t have a spirit animal unless you are Native American and studying in a tribe. (Please read this post)

Smudging is also NA, see above. Please refer to it as smoke cleansing.

You can curse.

You can choose not to curse.

You don’t have to practice every day.

You can take extended breaks.

You don’t even have to call yourself a witch! Witch is a gender neutral term, but some feel uncomfortable using it because of its feminine history. You could use Wix, sorcerer(ess), magician, practitioner, cunning man/woman, etc. You don’t even need a title at all.

You don’t need a magical name unless you want one.

I’m sure I’m forgetting something along the way, but the bottom line is that whatever you choose to do, you are valid. All you need is yourself and the drive to learn and practice, whatever that may mean to you. There is no right or wrong way to be a witch, unless you are doing something that is harmful to oppressed cultures and people.”

Reading Material

Mostly, I’ll be using my tags for this, so that you can peruse as you wish!

Beginner Witch Masterpost - via @magic-for-the-masses

Witchy Masterposts - everything you’ll ever need, especially for beginner ideas like energy work and visualization.

Types of Witches Masterpost - to help you narrow down your focus on your path if you feel necessary!

Cultural Appropriation in Witchcraft - can get a bit heated, so take that into consideration.

Deities - offerings and masterposts of pantheons

Witch Tips - beginner friendly tips

Spoonie Witchcraft - beginner friendly and good for low energy work

Books - PDFs and book references for purchase

Astrology - fun stuff mostly and some informational posts

Herbs - associations and precautions

Tea - witchy essential

Coffee - also a witchy essential

Bath Magic - beginner friendly

Sigils - low energy and beginner friendly

Crystals - lots of pictures, some informational posts and precautions.

Curses - if you dare

Kitchen Witchcraft

Moon Magic

Storm Witchcraft

Tarot Tips - side blog

Other Divination

Anything else you are welcome to search on my blog by typing in torque-witch.tumblr.com/search/(enter word here) or you can visit my FAQ for more information.

Blog Recommendations

Witchcraft

@breelandwalker

@badoccultadvice

@belladonnaswitchblog

@cunningcelt

@cosmic-witch

@cxnnxr-slxan

@da-at-ass

@death-witch-envy

@frankiezaltar

@hellboundwitch

@hylianshrinemaiden

@herbalburbal

@ioqayin

@intuitive-witch

@littledoomwitch

@magic-for-the-masses

@magicianmew

@nightkunoichi

@nerdywitchmomma

@orriculum

@oldmotherredcap

@phoenix-fire-witchcraft

@potato-witch

@qedavathegrey

@recreationalwitchcraft

@rainy-day-witchcraft

@rootandrock

@stormbornwitch

@stormwaterwitch

@spellboundwitchcraft

@thewitchexchange

@themoonmysteries

@thekitchenapothecary

@upthewitchypunx

@unmaskingthedivine

@visardistofelphame

@witchy-words

@witchy-woman

@wheelchairwitch

Divination

@a-lavender-moon

@alethiomancer

@afoolsgrace

@coffeeandtarot

@deathandtarot

@followthewindreadings

@intuitive-rose

@limoniume

@loganscove

@moondusttarot

@queenofchalices

@ravenmagill

@swampseer

@tarot-dreams

@tarot-cards-and-tea


Some of these blogs do overlap with witchcraft and divination, but these are people I follow and respect. If you have any questions please feel free to send me and ask or message me! That goes for anyone :)

La Douleur Exquise Pt 1 | Incubus!Yoongi AU

summary: in which you accidentally summon an incubus in the middle of your shitty apartment and he won’t leave until you agree to have sex with him. until then, min yoongi, incubus extraordinaire, is now your sexually promiscuous and grumpy roommate. aka, the incubus au no one fucking asked for.

warnings: demon summonings, lots of swearing, and a grumpy min yoongi (what’s new?)

genre: fluff, angst, humor, eventual smut (none in this chapter!)

words: 6.2K (FUCK!)

a/n: the preview got such good responses that I had to finish this right away! hope it stands up to your expectations! enjoy~ (pls ignore some grammatical mistakes; i still need to edit it a bit)

➵  part 1 (you’re here!) // part 2 // part 3 // part 4


In retrospect, it was probably a bad idea trying to recreate an ancient demon-summoning circle in the middle of your living room. If anyone asked you what had possessed you to do so regardless, you’d point fingers at your history professor for assigning the task in the first place. Although, you might concede that he didn’t technically ask you to assemble the summoning circle; all you were assigned to do was do some research about ancient summoning techniques with five to ten sources maximum. The problem with the assignment lied with the latter part of the requirements: the motherfucking references.

No matter how hard you tried to search for reliable photographs of professionally reenacted summoning circles, none of significant quality had popped up anywhere. You were seriously starting to consider attaching some DeviantArt fanart by the time you had reached page 67 on the Google search page.

In short, you were desperate—and desperation meant that you didn’t really think things through.

Keep reading

Batboys X Reader- Welcome To The Family

“He got another one?”

Dick and Jason stared at your dirty and small figure sitting at the dining room table, eating your food as if it were your last meal.  Bruce had informed everyone that he had taken you off from the streets when he found you at a crime scene.  You were hidden behind a couple boxes when a criminal decided to mug someone in the same alley.  The sounds of the victim struggling woke you up from your nap, making you leave your current home at the time.  There was a woman that was attempting to push a man’s knife away from her neck.  You quickly grabbed an old pipe you kept with you and stood up, quietly approaching the man until you were directly behind him.  You rose the pipe and bashed it on his head, causing him to drop the knife and collapse on the ground.  You hit him again for good measure and kicked away the knife.  The woman you saved stared at you, trying to process what you had just done.

“He’s still alive,” you muttered and kicked the man, receiving a groan from him.

“Thank you,” she stuttered out and hugged you.

You sighed at the warmth she provided, but had to let go, “Can you call the police?  I don’t want to be here without help if he wakes up again.”

She nodded and pulled out her cell phone out of her battered purse.  A few minutes later, a shadow enveloped you and the woman.  You turned around, the pipe still in your grip, to find the Batman looking at you and the woman.  He walked past you and the woman, grabbed the man, and placed some type of handcuffs on him.  Once he was finished with the criminal, he turned around and faced you and the woman.  

Keep reading

Writing is Hard, pt 9: Sexting

Summary: You send Dean some dirty pictures.

Read Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Warning: Smut, taking pictures during sex

Word Count: 2600ish

A/N: This is all written with love for fan fic. I’m teasing, not putting it down in any way. Hope you enjoy! (Sorry, tag list is closed!) XOXO


You hold up the phone, then almost instantly put it down.

This is stupid.

No. This isn’t stupid. This will be hot. Just do it.

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Fall Magick

I adore fall over any season, something just feels different inside of me and i just feel more spiritually aware, fall is also the time of my favourite Sabbat Samhain so i thought I’d share some ideas on what you can do for this Sabbat and just for the season in general.

This is gonna be kinda lengthy!

But first, what exactly is samhain? 

The fields are bare, the leaves have fallen from the trees, and the skies are going grey and cold. It is the time of year when the earth has died and gone dormant. Every year on October 31 (or May 1, if you’re in the Southern Hemisphere) the Sabbat we call Samhain presents us with the opportunity to once more celebrate the cycle of death and rebirth. For many Pagan traditions, Samhain is a time to reconnect with our ancestors, and honour those who have died.

This is the time when the veil between our world and the spirit realm is thin, so it’s the perfect time of year to make contact with the dead.


Samhain activity ideas.


  • Take a walk in the park with a loved one or a pet


  • Collect leaves to press


  • Enjoy some of the pumpkin spiced joy that comes around 


  • Reflect on the year


  • Remember those who have passed on to the other side and set up your altar with pictures of your loved ones who have passed.


  • Listen to stories about you ancestors, learn some stuff you maybe didn’t know.


  • Prepare a Samhain dinner. Include a place setting at your table or at a nearby altar for the Dead. Add an offering of a bit of each beverage being consumed to the cup at that place setting, and to the plate, add a bit of each food served. Invite your ancestors and other deceased loved ones to come and dine with you. (you could also consider dining in silence however this isn’t necessary.) 


  • Divination and Guidance. Using Tarot, Runes, Scrying, or some other method of divination, seek and reflect on guidance for the year to come. Write a summary of your process and messages. Select something appropriate to act upon and do it.


  • Divine Invocations. Honour and call upon the Divine in one or more Sacred Forms associated with Samhain, such as the Crone Goddess and Horned God of Nature. Invite Them to aid you in your remembrance of the Dead and in your understanding of the cycle of life, death, and rebirth. If you have lost loved ones in the past year, ask these Divine Ones to comfort and support you.


  • Transforming Expressions. If you encounter distortions, misinformation, and/or false, negative stereotypes about Paganism and Samhain in the media, contact the source, express your concerns, and share accurate information. Help eradicate derogatory stereotyping with courteous, concise, and intelligent communications.


  • Seasonal Imagery. Decorate your home with Samhain seasonal symbols and the colours of orange and black. Place an Autumnal wreath on your front door. Create displays with pumpkins, cornstalks, gourds, acorns, and apples. Set candles in cauldrons.


  • Carve a pumpkin or a turnip.


  • Bury an apple on samhain night as a snack to offer those passing on
  • go shopping for seasonal home decorations, and even Halloween decorations if you’re like me and keep some of them up all year round!


  • Take a sibling or cousin trick-or-treating.


  • Sit around a fire and toast marshmallows and tell stories. 


  • Go out and collect acorns and conkers.


  • Go apple picking or do some apple bobbing.


  • Watch a horror movie.


  • If there’s a corn maze near you, go have some fun getting lost with your friends and family.


  • Sit up late in the crisp autumn air and reflect.


  • Go for a hayride or for a hike.

And that’s it! That’s all i have for you this time round my loves, blessings and may the divine be with you, 

Morgana. 

Byun Baekhyun//Batter Up

Summary: Byun Baekhyun is the star player of your college’s baseball team - plenty of people have a crush on him, and of course you do too. But you have one thing they don’t have: a quiet friend who can’t pick up her damn phone and a head full of air.
Scenario: baseball!au, fluff
Word Count: 4,353

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The Accidental Sext

Overview: Wrong Number AU. Piss drunk, you decided it would be a good idea to send a raunchy photo of yourself to your ex. But as fate had it, you sent it to the wrong number.

Word Count: About 4,500.

Warning(s): Swearing, drinking, drunk texts, some suggestive content, slight sexting, so much fluff. No smut, but should be 16+ to read.

Author’s Note: Modern, Muggle AU; Sirius Black x Reader. I was reading some “I accidentally sent nudes to my boss” horror stories and this idea came into my head. (Sirius is not her boss.) Enjoy! ;)

MASTERLIST

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After Party | NSFW

Summary: After Tom’s win at the award show, you decide to surprise him with some fun in the hotel room.

Characters: Reader x Tom Holland

Warnings: Smut, cursing, NSFW

Word Count: 1,544

A/N: NSFW! Only read if you’re 18+! This is my first time writing something like this, so be nice. I’m also not experienced at all, so please no hard critics or anything. I am terrified to post this in the first place. Just no negative words, please.


You were excited for your boyfriend, Tom, who just won the BAFTA Rising Star award. You recalled the long days of just sitting at a computer for a few hours to vote for him over and over. He wanted this award so badly. You couldn’t help but smile as he accepted his award on stage. You looked over to your right and saw his mom beaming with joy as she admired her son from afar.

You knew that at the end of the night there was going to be a lot of press interviews and the after party. However, after parties weren’t your thing and you knew that Tom’s mom and Harrison would be there to watch out for him as he would drink the night away. When Tom was done with the press interviews, he returned to his seat next to you with his award. You immediately kissed him on his lips and congratulated him on his win. He passed the award to you and you looked at it with his name freshly engraved at the bottom.

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She’s Just Not That Into You » Part III (A Harry Styles Miniseries)

Miss the previous parts? Part One » Part Two

As always, this miniseries is dedicated to @stylesunchained. Thank you so much for reading the first two parts!  I hope part three is just as enjoyable for you all.

Let me know what you think! Happy reading.

Originally posted by glamour-divine

Although Harry had been disappointed to not receive your personal phone number, he still called “Megan” the next day to set up an appointment to see you. The earliest you can see him for a consulting appointment is in two weeks, and when Megan breaks the news to him, he nearly chokes on his morning tea.

Two weeks?

There wasn’t a logical way to see you sooner. There wasn’t a way to spin it in order for him to pop into your shop, especially considering he still had to sign the final papers to make the house his. How could he explain to you that he hadn’t quite sealed the deal yet, so you’d be decorating a completely hypothetical space? He’d already felt like an idiot in front of you, getting caught snooping around your bookshelves, and he wasn’t too keen on feeling like that around you anytime soon.

So, he waits.

He busies himself with packing up the items he knew he wouldn’t need: small, decorative sculptures, a majority of his books, the picture frames that littered nearly every spare surface of his home, his summer clothing that he knew would be completely unnecessary for at least five more months. Once he gets news that the final papers are ready to sign and the house is his, he cleans every nook and cranny of his current house, figuring it might as well be good to spruce it up for the new owners. He meets old friends for lunch, he takes his mother out for dinner, and he begs his sister to come over for a movie night.

And, of course, he reads. He reads the book you spoke so highly of, immersing himself within the worlds of each character, wondering which one you connected with most. Did you cry at the same parts he did? Did you have the same pit in your stomach that he experienced whenever the subject matter turned particularly dark? He needed to know what happened next, reading late into the night, promising himself he would go to bed after he finished the page he was on, but knowing he wouldn’t stop until he could no longer open his eyes.

The two weeks pass, but they feel more like a month and a half than they do a fortnight.

When the day of the meeting comes around, he peeks into the storefront, smiling at your name on the door. He meanders around your shop after checking in with Megan. She nods when he states his presence - a meek little thing with big brown eyes and a nervous giggle - and notifies you that “Mr. Styles is here,” via the bulky black telephone on her desk. He can feel the girl’s eyes on him as he walks around, recognizing some of the pieces from your website.

“Hi!” your voice echoes from behind him, your heels clicking against the concrete floor.

Harry turns around, fully expecting a normal salutation to escape his lips, but instead, his voice catches in his throat. You’re wholly professional, the version of yourself he saw in the magazine shoots. Cropped black pants with pointed-toe heels, a blazer rolled up to your elbows.

You look like you run the place - which, of course you do.

“How are you?” you ask before kissing his cheek and bringing him in for a hug.

That’s a bit better, he thinks to himself, remembering how previously, you’d greeted Nick more lovingly than you had Harry.

“Good, good,” he takes a step back from you, hoping your perfume had transferred onto him so he could smell you on him later - so he could pretend that reality wasn’t against him and that your scent was stuck to him for reasons other than a professional greeting. “Yourself?”

“Excited!” you clap your hands together. “Before we go back, let’s walk around a bit so you can get a sense of where I’m coming from, design-wise.”

He nods, pretending not to have already extensively researched “where you’re coming from,” and follows you until you stop in front of the mock room setups, pointing out some of your favorite pieces.

“Marble is really in,” you explain, tapping a stone coffee table. “But I try not to overdo it. If you like the look of marble - if you like this exact table, even - this would be the only marble piece I’d choose for whatever room.”

Taking his chin between his thumb and forefinger, Harry nods, inspecting the table and picturing it in his new living room. He likes it. Come to think of it, he liked everything. And it wasn’t just to appease you - there was no reason to like a chair just because you liked it - but he could envision nearly every piece in his new home.

“Just got these lamps in,” you turn one on. “I’m obsessed with them. Might snag them for myself,” you smile, clicking the remaining lamp on.

“How often does that ‘appen?” Harry smirks, raising an eyebrow.

“More often than it should,” you laugh. “I’m on this kick of deep greens, navy blue, and gold. Realize it’s not everyone’s cuppa tea, but if you see anything you like, there will almost always be different colors available,” you fluff a throw pillow, adjusting its position next to another.

Harry nods, imagining what his new place would look like decorated with a darker color scheme. He’d never been one for bold rooms - white was his go-to, with him being more concerned about how comfortable the furniture was instead of the color of the walls. You’d done Nick’s living room in bold, dark colors, and Harry loved it. It was his home, he’d told Harry. It wasn’t just a place he stayed and passed the time until he found somewhere else to live. It somehow felt right, even in the summertime, which Harry had initially worried about after seeing it for the first time. The home had Nick Grimshaw written all over it, and Harry was envious of how easily his best friend’s personality was packaged within every room.

He’d wanted that for himself, and you would be the one to give that to him.

He relishes in watching you work the room. You’re completely in your element, answering a couple of questions from Megan when the girl timidly approaches, letting her know that she was free to take lunch just as soon as your meeting with Harry wrapped up. You thank a middle-aged man for his order when he stops in to retrieve a rug, running to hold the door open for him as he heaves the rolled-up carpet over his shoulder. You make a joke with him as he leaves, winking at him with a smile and a wave of your hand.

Were you always this beautiful, or had Harry neglected to see how effortless your charm was?

No, that couldn’t have been the case. He’d noticed right from the second he laid eyes on you that you were something special; something different.

You lead him to the back of the expansive store, asking him questions about his current living space, wondering what pieces of furniture he wanted to keep and which he wanted to ditch.

“Oh my gosh!” you stop abruptly in the doorway to your office, clutching Harry’s shoulder as your eyes widen. “I didn’t even ask you if you wanted anything to drink! Water, coffee, tea?” you shuffle to the mini-fridge in the corner of the room, opening it and then closing it again. “I’m sorry. So sorry. I jump the gun sometimes. Get excited over the idea of a new space to transform and all that,” you laugh, rolling your eyes at yourself.

“Water would be great, thanks,” Harry smiles. He tries not to touch a hand to where you’d touched his shoulder, but he was worried you’d burned a hole through his shirt, what with how hot the area felt to him now.

He notices the familiar smell when he walks into your office, nodding his head when he sees that you’ve got yet another Diptyque candle burning on top of a filing cabinet - he can tell it’s pomegranate without even reading the label. He inspects the decor, loving the juxtaposition of clean lines set against rustic elements which make the room feel comforting and clean.

You pull out a chair with brightly colored fabric across the cushions, offering it to Harry before placing a bottle of water in front of him and walking to the opposite side of your desk.

“Okay,” you wake your computer up, scooting your chair closer to the screen. “I normally take clients through my portfolio so they can see the spaces I’ve completed, before and after I’ve gotten my hands on them.” You adjust the large monitor so Harry can view the screen as well. “Does that sound alright?”

“Of course,” he rubs his hands on his knees. “Whatever you normally do.”

You click on a file, asking Harry if he could see the screen properly. You show him your bigger projects - cafes and restaurants, along with office buildings - as well as clients who had hired you to renovate their houses. You mention how you tend to be inspired by patterns and colors, along with custom fabric you use to reupholster vintage, antique furniture.

“Do you reupholster them yourself?” he asks.

“The smaller pieces, yeah,” you nod, taking a sip from the cup of tea in front of you. “Like that chair you’re sitting on. I usually spend my free time refurbishing the pieces I find. I’ve done chairs, side tables, desks - all that,” you go on, clicking open a picture of one of your completed pieces. “Stopped doing the big stuff when my schedule got busier. Now, I work with a father-and-son team and they do the couches and loveseats,” you click again, a picture of you and two men sitting on a couch in what seems to be a workshop. “There we are,” you chuckle, quickly moving on to the next picture.

Harry knows that he can’t ask you to go back - what would you think of him if he’d insisted upon you showing him the picture again, just so he could see the way your legs crossed one over the other at the knee; how you smiled so easily, your eyes bright and your arms wrapped around the shoulders of both men. You were happy - genuinely happy - and it was a look you wore well.

“So which pieces from your current place do you want to keep?” you ask, meeting Harry’s eyes when he looks up from his lap. “If any…”

“Thinkin’ maybe,” he pulls at his bottom lip. “I’d wanna start fresh? To keep consistent?”

“Perfect,” you nod, minimizing your portfolio and bringing up a calendar. “Okay then,” you begin, moving the monitor back to its original position. “I’ll need to see your new place before I do any work-ups for you. Is there a time this week I can come and see the space?”

Harry’s heart jumps at the thought, even though your intent is purely professional.

You’d said the words, though.

You wanted to come over to his house. To his place. To his home.

“All I ‘ave is time,” he smiles. “So whatever works for you.”

Two days later, Harry finds himself waiting for you at his new property, the wintery London rain keeping him indoors as he paces back and forth in front of the large window overlooking the drive. It was just like London to rain on such a day - a day that should’ve been filled with bright sun to match the occasion - but he was used to the drizzle, no matter how much he didn’t agree with it.

His phone rings, the vibration in his back pocket causing him to jump. An unknown number flashes on the screen, and when he picks up, he’s surprised to hear your voice on the other line.

“So sorry, Harry!” your plea causes him to smile. You sound different on the phone - your voice is less smooth, but he lets the sound of it was over him, regardless. “I promise I haven’t stood you up! My shoot on the other end of town ran long, but I swear ‘m on my way! The GPS says ten minutes.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he chuckles. “I’ll be here. Drive safe, alright?”

You say you will and apologize again before hanging up. He grins as he looks out the window, biting his lower lip and furthering the dimples in his cheeks.

You’ve got his number saved in your phone.

He’s got your number now.

Whether it was your business phone or your personal phone didn’t matter. He had a direct line to you, and you to him. Knowing that he’d most likely never use it for reasons other than strictly professional, he felt nearly giddy as he saved your number, creating a new contact for you.

When you arrive, he’s surprised to see that it’s in a van with your logo on the side. Why - based on everything he knows about you thus far - is that the thing to make him hard? And why does his stomach flip so dramatically when he sees you step out of the driver’s seat, dressed in a worn-in flannel and jeans with paint splatters on them? You shuffle quickly over to the passenger’s side, shielding your eyes from the rain. When you emerge into sight again, you’ve got your arms full of materials like folders, tape measures, and a ruler. You laugh as you run up to the front door, shielding your papers beneath your plaid shirt.

How was Harry supposed to make it through the afternoon without a full-on stiffy with you looking like that?

“Hi,” he smiles when he opens the door, the security system beeping throughout the empty house.

“Hi!” you jump into the foyer, trying to catch your breath. “I’m so sorry - I hate being late!”

“Not a problem,” Harry assures you, noticing the pencil tucked behind your ear.

“And I’m sorry for looking suck a mess,” you peel your boots off with one hand, clutching your supplies close to your chest with the other. “Just set up a shoot and didn’t want to be even later in the name of looking presentable.”

Harry looks down at his hoodie and torn jeans, his hair flopping down onto his forehead, “Look more presentable than I do,” he chuckles.

You scoff, placing your boots neatly together, just as Harry did at your flat. He smiles at the unnecessary gesture, appreciative that you didn’t even bother ask whether or not he’d prefer you take your shoes off. Not that he’d have a problem either way - you could traipse mud and leaves all over his new home and he’d thank you for it.

“‘ve got the measurements and whatnot,” he explains as the two of you walk into the kitchen. “The original contractor has the blueprints and sent them over so we’d ‘ave ‘em.”

“Great,” you nod, inspecting the cabinetry from afar. “Think today’ll just be me scoping out the rooms, taking some measurements just to double-check,” you run your hands through your hair after setting down your armful of materials onto the counter. “Not that I don’t trust the contractor’s numbers. I’ve got my own system, though. Years of doing this makes me a creature of habit,” you smirk, flipping open a folder labeled STYLES, H. in bold letters. His heart jumps, thinking that you could’ve been the one to write it. “Wanna help me measure?”

“Of course,” he nods - maybe a bit too eagerly - as you reach for your tape measure and clip it onto the back pocket of your jeans.

The two of you walk through the empty house in your socked feet, Harry remaining quiet until you say something. You inspect each room, writing down how many windows are in each, commenting on where some crown molding will need to be replaced, recommending that the carpet be taken up and replaced with real hardwood to give it a more modern feel.

“Which colors are we thinking so far?” you inquire, unclipping the tape measure. Pulling out the free edge, you hand it to Harry, your fingertips touching his while you cock your head to the other side of the room with a smile. He’s frozen for a moment, willing you to reach out and grace your hand over his once more, but he’s snapped out of it by you walking away from him. He follows your lead, walking to the opposite wall from the one you’re standing against, holding the bulky measure down against the floorboard.

“Like the thought of a dark blue for this room,” he looks around, squatting on one knee when he reaches the wall. “Cozy livin’ room ‘n all that.”

“Good, good,” you grin. “Don’t want you to be swayed by my own likes and dislikes, but I promise you it’ll look good.” You make a quick chart with the ruler you’ve brought on the inside flap of the manila folder, muttering something about always needing to have straight lines, no matter if it was written in on an official document or the inside of a folder. It makes Harry smile, the admission of your quirk. “And if not, we can always change it. Paint is easy to change.”

“Don’t think’ll want t’ change it,” Harry assures, walking slowly backwards with the free end of the tape between his fingertips, crouching down once you’ve met him to measure the width of the room. “Whatever you’ve shown me so far, I’ve loved.”

You peek up through the hair that’s fallen down into your eyes as you scribble more numbers onto the folder, smiling at him in a way he forces himself to remember. His heart pounds in his chest - so much so that he hopes you can’t hear it - and he finds it difficult to swallow the lump that’s housed in his throat.

You work easily together as walk through each room, speaking vaguely about the initial ideas both of you had for the house. You don’t try to sell Harry on one idea or another - you offer a suggestion and if he doesn’t like it, you offer another until he’s comfortable. He feels relaxed, especially once you assure him that nothing is set in stone and that your feelings won’t be hurt if he doesn’t like something you suggest. This is his home, you remind him. It’s all up to him.

“What was the shoot about?” Harry asks as you measure the windows in what will eventually be his bedroom.

“Uneven decorating. Odd numbers look better,” you explain, sniffling slightly. “Always want to have one, three, or five of something, unless it’s like a side table or lamps. But anything on a wall - like framed art or pictures - and table decorations like figurines or candles look best when there’s an odd number of them.”

“You allowed to tell me which publication?” he smirks slyly, leaning up against the wall.

You twist your mouth, trying to conceal a smile. You think on it for a second, tucking your pencil back behind your ear. “Promise not to tell?” you reach out with your pinky, a pseudo-stern look on your face.

“Promise,” Harry links his pinky with yours, trying to conceal his smile by keeping his lips pressed tightly together. How could he say no to a pinky-promise imposed by a gorgeous woman? There were laws against it, he thinks.

“I’m serious!” you scoff, dropping your hand to your side. “I’ll know it was you if you say anything. If you even mention it to anyone - especially Nicholas Grimshaw - I’ll never speak to you again.”

He clears his throat, rubbing his nose twice. He closes his eyes, forcing himself to wear the same stern look you’re sporting. When he opens his eyes, you’re still staring at him intently.

“Swear,” he nods.

“And then you’ve gone and broken a pinky promise, too. Which in my books…” you raise your eyebrows and shake your head with a twitch of your pointer finger in front of you. “It’s HGTV Magazine. From the US.”

“That’s like a major TV channel there, innit?”

“Yeah,” you nod slowly, your eyes widening at the thought. “Now they’ve got magazines. And paint. And furniture. And decor. ‘ve got the market cornered over there. Huge, huge company. Like…massive.”

“And you’ve never been featured in the States, ‘ave you?”

“No,” you nearly whisper.

“That’s a big fuckin’ deal, then!”

“Guess so,” you chuckle, running your hands through your hair. “Thanks for that.”

“Absolutely,” Harry laughs, knocking your shoulder with his knuckles. “Congratulations. It really is a huge deal.”

He knew you were successful, but hearing about how you set up the studio to look like a living room today and would be going back tomorrow in order to get your portrait taken in the room makes him realize just how successful you are. A four-page spread, including an interview on how you’d taken London by storm and your influences would be seen within the American market soon. Their words, not yours, you assured Harry.

As the two of you walk through the rooms on the second floor, he asks how you started within the industry. You explain to him that you went to school to be a financial advisor and specialized in small business accounts. You were a pencil-pusher, you told Harry, and you were stuck in an office all day long. You’d spend your weekends refurbishing antique furniture, finding that you’d had a knack for it. It made you happy - so happy that it was the only thing that got you through the monotony of your work week. Although you loved your clients and always enjoyed the pride that came with their wins, you weren’t especially happy in your job. Something had to change.

After agreeing that all of the light fixtures upstairs would have to be replaced, you went on to talk about how even though you saw how much stress your clients were under running their own businesses, you couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to begin your own business.

“Put my life savings into my first shop,” you flick off the hallway bathroom’s light. “I was eating Ramen nearly every night. Went without electricity in my apartment for a week because I didn’t ‘ave enough money to pay for lights at the store and lights at home,” you laugh. “Feels like such a long time ago…”

You started out selling furniture and other decor items. It was tough, but little by little, you made progress. Eventually, one of your regular customers asked if you were interested in working with her as an interior design consultant for her company. It helped get your name out, and soon you were redesigning spaces for people you could’ve never imagined.

Harry admires how smart and brave you are - he can understand how scary it is to go it alone without knowing the results. He was going through it right now. He was in a more privileged position, sure, but he was still unsure of what the future held, and he could appreciate how much courage it took to start over. It made him look at you in a different light - a light that allowed him to see the struggle you’d gone through, working you way from nothing to one of the best in your field. He’d envied the confidence that you sported when it came to your work and wondered if he, himself, would ever feel that.

Once you’re finished taking down all of the information you need, you follow Harry back downstairs.

“Still raining,” you frown, gathering all of your materials. “Does wonders for the hair.” You pretend to flip it over your shoulders. The natural state of it brought out by the weather makes Harry want you all the more.

“Ye’ look great.”

You tut, rolling your eyes a bit, but thank him nonetheless. “So, ‘ve got to take off,” you state, your body language pulling you back to the foyer. “But I really am so excited to get started on the mockups,” you hop a little. “It’s a beautiful space and we can start from scratch, which is when I have most of my fun.”

“‘m excited too,” Harry smiles.

“‘ll have Megan call you when I’m done with the renderings,” you slip your boots back on. “Should take no longer than a week. So count on next Thursday?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “And congratulations again on the magazine - really is a big deal.”

You tilt your head to the side, all of your features softening. “Thank you, Harry,” you smile coyly. You squeeze him a bit as you hug goodbye, the materials in your arms pressed between the two of you creating a barrier that Harry would rather be without. “I had fun today.”

“I did, too.”

He watches you run to your work van, leaping over a particularly large puddle. He laughs to himself as you struggle with your keys before unlocking the driver’s door, diving into the vehicle with a sigh that he can’t see. He watches as you push your mussed-up hair back, noticing him standing in the front window. You wave with a knowing smile before turning on the engine and backing out of the drive.

It’s that smile - that sly smirk - that pushes Harry over the edge that night.

He didn’t want to touch himself, but he’d been rock hard ever since he saw how beautiful your ass looked in your paint-splattered work jeans as you ran to the car. He didn’t want to defile you in his mind as he stroked himself in the shower, water running down his shoulders and back as he faced away from the spray. He didn’t want to moan your name as his balls tightened, the images of you naked and begging for him littering his mind to the point of no return.

But, he did.

He had to.

Nobody would know - it would be his secret - but if he didn’t jack off to the thought of you, he was sure he’d lose his damn mind.

He pictures you sporting the same upturn of your lips from earlier as you ride him, your flannel from that day still on, yet unbuttoned to reveal your breasts as you grind down against him. You know what you do to him, and your smile tells all. He imagines how beautiful you’d sound as he gripped your hips, slowing your movements to nearly a stop while he pushes up into you, groaning at the gasp you give him in return.

He’d never wanted to be inside someone as much as he wanted to be inside you. He wants to feel your breath against his ear, his name across your lips, your fingertips gripping his shoulders. He wants to know what you taste like - sweet, probably, like the candles you burn. He wants to know how warm you are; how wet he can make you by just the touch of his lips to yours. He wants to hear your moan - feel it vibrate down his cock while he’s in your mouth, that gorgeous pout of yours wrapped around the head of him.

He wants it all, but he can’t have it, so his hand will have to do.

A part of him feels guilty when he cums on the shower wall, his splotchy vision and ringing ears indicating that he gave in too quickly. But, fuck. What was a man supposed to do? You’d smelled so good; your stories never bored him; you were becoming a global success and you’d accepted to work with him.

And your ass? In those jeans?

He was done before he ever began, as far as that was concerned.

He walks out of the shower on shaky legs, a white bath towel wrapped loosely around his waist. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he takes his head in his hands and grunts.

“Fuck’r you on, Styles?” he asks himself.

He leans back onto the covers, his feet dangling off the edge of his bed that he’ll soon replace with another one, based upon your recommendation. He falls asleep that way - sleeps deeply, too, his hair wet and his towel coming undone after he shifts slightly in his slumber. It’s a deep sleep, one that doesn’t produce a memory of a dream, and Harry is thankful for that.

He doesn’t think he could take another night of dreaming of you.

Not if he wasn’t able to turn those dreams into a reality so that his mind could stop wandering day in and day out…

Not if he wasn’t able to get what he wanted…

Not if, he knows, he wasn’t able to make you his.

The Mistake (Part 3) - Stiles Stilinski

Author: @were-cheetah-stiles

Title: “The One With The Wedding In Beacon Hills”

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Allison Argent, Scott McCall, Isaac Lahey, Melissa McCall, Noah Stilinski, Chris Argent, Lydia Martin & Reader

Author’s Note: There may or may not be a few pictures of Dylan from the LA American Assassin premiere in this. I imagine that all of the groomsmen wore three piece suits, and Scott wore the same color and pattern, just no vest. ANYWAY… anyway… um…. y/f/c is your favorite color, I’m not trying to tell you what color or style dress you look good in.  Also, go read Between Us, by @fillthevoid-stilinski. Without her and without that fic, this ish would not exist.

Songs: The links will be on the song titles throughout the story as well. In order as they play: Doris Troy. Etta James. Haley Reinhart. Don’t have to listen but I don’t know, Etta James’ really adds to the moment…

Summary: Stiles and Y/n continue their charade at Scott and Allison’s wedding, but find that they are both quickly having trouble keeping their respective feelings hidden from one another, and everyone else.

Prologue - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5- Part 6 - Epilogue

Originally posted by dylanobrien

You spent all of Friday running around town with either the wedding planner, Allison, or one of the other bridesmaids, so you had managed to avoid Stiles all day and you were relieved. Between the fake relationship and the real marriage, you were at the end of your emotional tether. Denying your feelings for Stiles was becoming harder and harder each time you laid your eyes on his handsome, wonderful, stupid fucking face. You glanced down at your phone in your lap, as the hairdresser curled your hair into an updo behind you.

Biles Bilinski: How’s it going over there?

You: fine.

Biles Bilinski: Giz

Biles Bilinski: You have got to stop being pissed at me.

Biles Bilinski: I didn’t do anything and I miss you.

You sighed heavily at the last three words on your screen.

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Black and White (Jughead x Reader Soulmate!AU)

Prompt: Can you do a soulmate au where jughead and the reader can only see the world in black and white but once they see each others eyes they can see color? Also can the reader be a really quiet and shy photographer but friendly and kinda loud when around people she knows well?? Ps: I really love your blog💕

A/N: I hope you like this!! It turned out more poetic than I thought it was going to? Oops. (It’s also almost 4am so my brain is like fried? Hopefully it made some sense.) xx

Masterlist

Black and White (Jughead x Reader Soulmate!AU)

The world had hidden colors within reach.

Black and White hid the vibrant colors from those who weren’t lucky enough to find their soulmate at a young age.

Some saw colors at age 6.

While Some never saw the greens and blues the world had to offer.

In the small town of Riverdale, it was uncommon for those to find their soulmate with those they grew up with.

But there was always childhood friends who find themselves staring at their soulmate’s eyes and seeing colors bleed out of the plain black and white.

You were different than the others.

The Black and White. It captivated you.

The idea of vibrant colors. The Purples, pinks. All of it made you wonder how it came from the black and whites.

How could one look in a stranger’s eyes make you seen a whole rainbow of colors?

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Two Nights Stand

Summary: (Modern Au) After a bad breakup, your roommate insists that you need to a one night stand to end your dry spell and take your ex out of your system. But what happens when you forced to spend time with your one night stand?

Paring: Bucky x Reader

Words: 1446

Warnings: This is vaguely inspired by a movie of the same name,. Readers thoughts are in italic;

A/n: Thanks to @drinkfantasy for being my beta. You rock.

Originally posted by mebeingbored1

We need to talk.” Your roommate says getting in your room and sitting on your bed “Can it wait a few minutes, Wanda? This episode is almost done.” She groans annoyed, turning off the TV. “No, it can’t, you watched two whole seasons this week. You need to get out more, have fun and get laid. Really, when was the last time you got out of the house?”

You straighten up your sweater, sitting up on the bed, “Yesterday, to go to work.” She rolls her eyes at you and you feel like a kid that talked back to her parents. “Sure, you go to work almost every day, but when was the last time you got out the house to have fun?”

You don’t answer her because you don’t remember. Your life lately has been going to work and going home. “See, you don’t even remember. Look, I know that since you and Nathan broke up things are hard, but you need to go back out there. Have fun, do something crazy.”

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When she joined a “swim-in” in St. Augustine, Florida on June 18, 1964, then 17-year-old Mamie Nell Ford had little idea that her picture would soon be seen around the world – and help spur the passage of the landmark Civil Rights Act of 1964. On that day, seven civil rights activists, including Ford, jumped into the segregated pool at the Monson Motor Lodge to protest its ‘whites-only’ policy. As journalists looked on, the motel owner’s James Brock responded by dumping acid into the pool in an effort to drive them out. Ford recalls that her immediate reaction was “I couldn’t breathe,” and a photo of her with an alarmed expression as Brock pours acid nearby appeared in newspapers around the world. When people learn about the incident today, Ford says, “I’m often asked, ‘How could you have so much courage?’ Courage for me is not ‘the absence of fear,’ but what you do in the face of fear.”

The campaign to challenge segregation in St. Augustine in 1963 and 1964, known as the St. Augustine Movement, is considered one of the bloodiest of the Civil Rights Movement. Students staging “wade-ins” to challenge segregation on the beaches were violently beaten and, after several black children were admitted into white schools due to the Supreme Court’s decision outlawing school segregation, several of the children’s homes were burnt to the ground by local segregationists. Martin Luther King, Jr. was even arrested on the steps of this same motel only a week prior to the pool “swim-in,” after being charged with trespassing when he attempted to dine at the “whites-only” Monson Restaurant.

Prior to the pool “swim-in”, Ford was already an experienced civil rights activist in her hometown of Albany, Georgia. When Martin Luther King, Jr.’s Southern Christian Leadership Conference came to Albany to recruit activists to support the movement in St. Augustine, she immediately signed up. “When they asked for volunteers to participate in the swim-in demonstration, I said, yes, because, despite segregation, I knew how to swim,” she says. While they knew it was likely they would be arrested, no one expected the owner to pour acid into the pool. “It is as fresh in my mind as the morning dew, because when the acid was poured in the pool, the water began to bubble up,” Ford recalls. Although the group was arrested shortly thereafter, their protest had the intended effect: as it made headlines worldwide, President Johnson said in a recorded phone conservation: “Our whole foreign policy will go to hell over this!” Within 24 hours, the civil rights bill that had been introduced a year before and had been stalled in the Senate won approval, leading directly to the passage of the historic Civil Rights Act of 1964.

After being released from serving jail time for the swim-in, Ford made a powerful statement urging the people of St. Augustine to keep fighting: “Don’t lose heart now because you’re the ones on whom this movement rests. People will come and go because they live somewhere else, but you live here and you make this thing happen.” She returned home and went on to join five other black girls to lead the desegregation of the formerly all-white Albany High School, where she graduated with honors in 1965. Ford, who later changed her name to Mimi Jones, then went to college in Boston where she spent her career working in the Department of Education.

Although less well known than school segregation, the long legacy of segregation in swimming pools still lives on today. After legal challenges and actions like this one in St. Augustine forced the end of segregated pools, in many towns, especially in the South, ‘white flight’ from public pools to private clubs often led to their closure. The impact of first segregation and later pool closures over generations has led to a major gap between white and black Americans in swimming ability, with whites being twice as likely to know how to swim as blacks. This difference is also reflected in the CDC finding that black children are three times more likely die from drowning than white children. For these reasons and the long legacy of racism at swimming pools, Simone Manuel’s victory at the last Olympic Games took on special meaning for many African Americans – a significance the young swimmer alluded to after she became the first African-American woman to ever win an individual Olympic gold in swimming: “The gold medal wasn’t just for me,“ she said. "It’s for a lot of people who came before me.”

Picture and text from "A Mighty Girl” on Facebook
Pictures on the wall - Bucky x Reader - Oneshot

Heyo, my potatoes! ♥ I missed writing Bucky fanfictions. This fluffy happy feeling writing them is just lovely and a good distraction from everything else. I still got a lot of ideas to write and also requests to write which I try to write soon. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! ♥

Summary - With your polaroid camera you took many pictures already and hung them up your bedroom wall. Bucky coming to your room with a problem with his phone, seems to be quite interested in your pictures.

Words - 1,340

Warnings - FLUFF! *o*


Originally posted by seabasschino


“Hey, Y/N”, Bucky knocks on your door.

“Come in.”

You pause writing the report for Steve about the last mission and turn down the music a bit, so it’s still audible, but not to loud for a conversation. You look over to Bucky who comes into your room with his phone in his hand and a clueless face.

“What’s up, Buck?”

“I’ve got a problem with the phone again”, he admits, scratching the nap of his neck. You shake your head with a smile, put the laptop on your nightstand to move over to the edge of your bed.

“Come here”, you order Bucky, tapping the bed next to you for him to sit down.

“Why do you always come to me with these things actually?”, you ask, taking the phone and looking at it, trying to figure out the problem. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. can help you with these things, too.” “Yeah, I don’t know. I think you explain it easier”, Bucky laughs slightly embarrassed that he still has problems with today’s electronics.

“So what’s your problem?”

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whipashwhipash  asked:

“I’m a screamer. Not sexually, just at life in general.” “I can make that sexually." and "Are you flirting with me?" for Reddie! Also, can you do it eddie being the one saying "I can make that sexually" under his breath??? Thank you!!! (btw this is oldfashionedvanilla, i changed my blog :))

  • ever since richie and eddie started going out they weren’t able to keep their hands off of each other
  • like they’d constantly be kissing,, hugging,, just TOUCHINg each other and the other losers would get bored with them  
  • they’d just kinda be like “okkkk guys u can stop it now” when their sneaky make out session mid movie was getting so loud that it was drawing attention off of the movie
  • none of the losers were surprised by this ofc because they knew the couple had always had chemistry long before they even got together and their opposites only attracted them more to each other
  • but something they were surprised of was that even though you’d think richie would constantly be flirting with eddie,, IT WAS THE OPPOSITE!
  • richie wouldn’t know how to flirt at ALL now that him and eddie were finally together
  • he would just fluster and be quiet and just get super awkward and everyone would be like “wow richie we’re disappointed in you”
  • and now eddie would be enjoying this fully and he’d be such a pain in the ass ,, constantly flirting with richie and paying back for all the times he’d made eddie blush before they were together
  • one time when they were watching a horror movie richie let out a girly scream
  • “what the fUCK richie” stan would go
  • “that wasn’t me that was eddie”
  • “oh pls” eddie would roll his eyes
  • “okay well that scene was a jump scare so it’s not fair. besides i am a professional screamer. not sexually just at life in general” richie defended himself and the other losers just snorted in amusement/shook their heads/something but were concentrated on the movie again
  • eddie got a devilish idea and ran his finger up richie’s arm and leaned up a little so that his lips were right next to his ear
  • “i can make that sexually”
  • richie would go pale white and eddie would just smirk wide and then act like he didn’t even say anything
  • “hey can u pass me that popcorn bowl rich”
  • he’d also compliment richie in front of the losers all the time because he knew it would make him blush
  • “you’re so hot
  • “richie you’re CUTE
  • “oh my god i LOvE it when u wear a beanie”
  • and as eddie expected richie would always be so AWKWARD and blush “thank u…eds…”
  • he’d seriously never drop it bc he enjoys the fact he can make his bf go from HEY ASSHOLES LETS ALL SNORT COKE OFF OF EDDIE’S MOM’S TITS to speechless and flustered and just snuggling against eddie as a way of saying thank u and pls love me more
  • there’s one time eddie is the most proud of tho
  • since yes,,, he loves making his boyfriend nervous in a cute way because of him
  • but he also loves making him happy
  • so one time at school ,,, richie was given great recognition from something he painted in arts class. honestly eddie didn’t even know richie was a painter but the picture was made with mostly black and blue and dark purple shades of paint and it was of a boy smoking a cigarette outside in the middle of the night
  • and it was v good??? eddie was shook
  • anyway then the teacher is like “well eddie ur friend really is talented!!”
  • “yes,, my BOYfriend actually and he’s very talented and also beautiful have y noticed how beautiful this face is ???? beautiful inside and out like we can see from the painting.!!!!”
  • richie would be so MAD at eddie for doing this in front of the teacher but he couldn’t help but smile at eddie’s compliments because did he just say richie is very talented and beautiful inside and out 
  • richie swoons
  • “well uh im not gonna comment on a student’s looks but his painting sure is beautiful so i think im gonna give you an A” -teacher
  • richie would be like
  • “wait what”
  • teacher nods and eddie smiles up at his bf and he’s so PROUD
  • once they walk out of the class eddie immediately showers richie in kisses and he’s a little confused but def not complaining about it
  • “what’s this for”
  • “bc im proud”
  • “you’re proud???”
  • “yes im proud i didn’t even know u could paint”
  • “right ,,, well i do”
  • silence
  • “hey” eddie would go
  • “??”
  • “u wanna paint me?”
  • richie blushes just at the tHOUGHT because he could never paint eddie he could never possibly do justice to his features
  • then eddie gets on his tiptoes and wraps his arms in richie’s neck and again does the whisper that gets richie’s skin on goosebumps
  • “…..naked”
  • richie turns the shade of a tomato and eddie laughs maniacally inside his head because he’s so good at this

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