i'm really proud of myself though!

I colored that warmup sketch I was talkin about to reveal that I am a Slytherin!! 🐍 I’m not surprised people pegged me as a Ravenclaw, though, cuz that’s what I wanted to be when I was a young bab, and what all the other quizes say I would be if I wasn’t Slytherin lol. I consider myself to be of Slytherin mind and Ravenclaw heart. Or Slytherclaw, if we wanna call it by its ship name lol

Also my wand is made of ash with a phoenix feather core, chosen for me personally at Ollivander’s 😎 ✨


Pairing: John/Paul

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 5,027

Set In: 1958

Prompt: “You’re telling me that you’re a virgin?”

Summary: there’s a first time for everything @ paul ;))))

A/N: my conscience told me early on that i should make this into two parts, and jesus fucking christ, i really should’ve listened :,)

He looked divine. It was like he was glowing almost, somehow managing to sit right where the moon shone through the tiny window above my desk. But oh ho, I didn’t dare pick at him for it, as I wanted to keep him right where he was just for the sole purpose of admiring him from up on my bed. Paul was so focused, so painfully concentrated on his plucking fingers that it was almost hurting me in a way. His broad shoulders sat forward, every inch of his lanky self angled toward the guitar help firmly in his lap. The hair that was once gelled up high had begun to crumble down and lose its volume, strands occasionally falling down onto his creased forehead. Thank God he didn’t bother to fix it, because if he weren’t staying the night it would be slicked back up immediately. There was a soft quality to it, like it made him vulnerable almost. Still, I couldn’t deny that he looked unbashedly sexy, eyes alluring and seeming to draw me into him. Paul didn’t take them off of my guitar in his slim lap, but they still managed to make me feel all sort of dreamy in a way. God, I was pathetic. He wasn’t even paying me a speck of attention, yet I wouldn’t hesitate to take him in the gentlest of ways right there on the floor. The thought of being so intimate with my best-mate-turned-boyfriend made an involuntary shudder course up my spine and down to the tips of my fingers. I had the sudden urge to climb down from my raised seat and kiss that fucking relaxed little pout right off those bowed lips of his, to draw out those blissful sighs and pleading groans that I so longed for. We’d discussed it soon after we’d gotten together as a proper couple, Paul making it exceedingly clear that he’d let me know when he was ready. Which was understandable, because if I were the one taking it up the arse, I’d need quite a bit of bloody time to prepare myself mentally for that sort of thing.

“John?” he nearly cooed, bringing me out of that little dream world I’d fallen into. “Mhm?” I replied coolly, trying my best to sound even the least but composed under his innocent gaze. “How do you play an F# major 7th chord again?” Jesus Christ, I could barely answer the question–a real fucking simple one at that. It was like he had me under one of his witchy spells, eyes drowsy and painfully sweet as per usual. I pictured those eyes as I would push into him slowly, how they would fly open wider than I’ve ever seen before, wordlessly begging for more as I began to rock my hips at a leisurely pace. I was a right fucking mess, but even his presence was just so damn distracting. “I dunno, isn’t that one where you have to lay a finger down across all the strings or somethin’?” I shrugged. It was so incredibly hard to keep from fucking dragging him on top of my body and leaving little nips and kisses all over his skin until dawn. Although, something told me that he wouldn’t mind that at all. “After all, you’re the bloody chord master here, love, not me.” Paul rolled his dark eyes, a slight twinge of annoyance hidden there. “Aye, be helpful for once in your life and try to remember,” he scoffed and handed me my guitar back, the neck still warm from his rough grip. Paul remained seated on my rug until I pulled him up to sit beside me on my mattress. “You’re a real prick, I hope you know that,” I snickered, dragging another eye roll from the boy pressed up closely beside me. I couldn’t help but touch my lips to the tip of his nose before fumbling around the fretboard of the guitar, trying to remember myself how to play that damned chord.

I never got to figure out the chord, however, for before my fingers were able to find their correct placements, Paul’s plump lips were latched onto the most sensitive part of my neck, just below the middle of my jawline, in a sudden fit of passion. “Jesus.” The words floated out of my mouth faintly, my entire body nearly going complete slack from the feeling of him leisurely swirling his tongue around the bit of flesh he’d caught between his teeth. Paul hummed into my skin, a shaking hand feeling its way up my body to cup the other side of my face. “Is that alright?” he breathed, his voice somehow faltering over the span of three short words. I couldn’t help but giggle at his odd uncertainty. He’d done this before, right? “Y-Yeah, Paulie. Perfect,” I managed to mumble in response.

It felt like my entire body was set aflame by his scorching touch. Paul’s coy fingers slipped over my neck and cheek carefully, like he feared that he might do something wrong. It was nothing to complain about, as my body responded eagerly, all coherent thought being tossed out the window as blood flowed straight to my groin. When he nipped at my earlobe shyly, it was a strange new mix of emotions; one being absolute pleasure, and the other being fear that he’ll soon notice the rapidly growing bulge in the front of my jeans. The last thing I wanted to do was to pressure the boy into anything, but God–whenever his lips finally moved on top of mine, it was like it was the last straw, the final move he’d make before I’d pin him down against the mattress, my lips dragging across every inch​ of skin that spanned his lean body. And that’s exactly what I did, nearly tossing my guitar across the room and pushing his head back against the single pillow laid against the headboard. Paul let out a heavenly groan and it was like a switch flipped in my brain, and even more so in my groin, as I could feel my unfortunate hard-on trying to stand at full attention under its denim and cotton confines. I tried so desperately to ignore it and keep myself from rutting against Paul’s thigh like an animal in heat. But being that I was sprawled out on top of him, my lips exploring almost every bit of skin on his neck, it proved to be increasingly difficult to restrain my hips from gaining that friction that I so craved.

Another long, drawn-out moan flowed from his luscious lips, and I had to whisper to him to keep quiet because Mimi had always been a light sleeper. That rule soon became increasingly hard to follow on my part, because in the middle of my bloody sentence, of course, his fingers drifted down to my clothed hips to dig into the flesh there, pulling me down so that my erection could meet his, which seemed equally as hard as mine–thank God. It took all of the little willpower I had left to not scream the fucking house down in praise of the younger boy who was now grinding his hips up against mine. Our lips met momentarily in a heated fit of tiny whimpers and tangling tongues. I could swear that I felt his long legs latch around my thighs, but I was too focused on the incredible feeling of him right there, licking into my mouth greedily.

“Mhm, oh God, J-John,” Paul hissed into my ear. The very sound of him coming so undone under me almost made all color drain from my face, which seemed impossible, as I could feel little beads of sweat start to form along my hairline. “Y-Yeah, I’m here, Paulie, I’ve got you,” I babbled aimlessly, grunting into his jaw as he shamelessly pulled my crotch down against his over and over again. I could feel his fingers drift to tug up the hem of my black t-shirt, so I sat up and allowed him to pull it over my head, revealing my heaving chest. Tossing it somewhere on to the floor, his hips slowed, giving me a moment to search his dilated eyes for some sort of hint that I should keep going. A dainty hand slid up my stomach and stopped in the center of my chest, swirling around in that miniscule patch of wispy hairs that had recently sprung out. Our eyes were locked as he continued his ministrations, fingers exploring as they wished and mapping out the expanse of my expanding torso. In a calm manner, Paul rose from his formerly relaxed position on my pillow, eyes now level with mine and our noses brushing. My hands traveled to the bottom of his sweater, and with a careful glance for permission, which he granted with a chaste kiss on the corner of my mouth, I dragged the fabric up and over his torso. It almost happened in slow motion, revealing inch by inch his pale, hairy navel along with the rest of his rapidly rising and falling chest.

“I want to, John,” Paul croaked, his eyes brimming with love, although I could see that almost unnoticeable glint of fear etched into his soft features. “I want you so badly, I’m just s-scared.” My hands smoothed over his broad shoulders and up to cup either side of his beautiful fucking face. “I know, love, I know. We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable,” I gushed, trying to be as understanding as possible, which was even a stretch for me. “No no, I really want to tonight.” My spine involuntarily began to tingle at his words, that tonight was the night that we’d finally be together properly. “I-I just…” he trailed off, looking down in between our naked bellies. “What, what’s wrong?” I inquired, nervous that I might have done something to upset him. “Nothing’s wrong, really. It’s just that I, um, I haven’t exactly done this before,” Paul whispered, his voice steadier than it had been moments ago. “Yeah,” I replied simply. “I figured that this was gonna be a first for us both.” Our eyes locked again and I searched his desperately, as something still wasn’t completely right. Paul’s gaze shifted downward again, and he almost looked disappointed. “John, I–that’s not really what I meant.”

My mind went completely blank. Was he really–he couldn’t be, right? “You’re telling me that you’re a virgin?” I gulped, not entirely believing this. Paul was far too handsome, far too, I don’t know, sensual to not have had sex before, even if it were with a bird. But my thoughts proved to be correct as he nodded slowly, seeming like he feared my response. So I kissed him. I think that was one of the very few things I could do, as I was left completely speechless. Paul leaned into my mouth, hesitant at first, but I smiled against his lips, bringing him closer than he had been before. This kiss was much less needy and urgent, but not any less passionate, as I made sure that I conveyed every last ounce of emotion I had into his lips. Paul’s palms had found my chest, each resting on either side right above my erect nipples, which were begging desperately for some sort of attention.

“Johnny,” he purred into my mouth. Our lips broke apart abruptly, Paul’s eyes now housing that very evident sense of urgency. “I still want you, if you’ll have me,” he continued, partly out of breath from that near mind blowing kiss. Jesus, it was like a shock of electricity coursed straight through me, every hair on my body standing on end, especially where Paul had tangled his fingers into the little wispy ones on the nape of my neck. I cleared my throat, feeling like I could squeal and jump up and down in excitement like a little girl. “Of bloody course, you git,” I chuckled quietly and pressed my addicted lips back to his, my entire body thrumming with a whole new type of giddiness. “You’re sure?” I questioned, not wanting him to feel like he was being pressured into something that he didn’t fully want. Paul’s fingers ghosted up my sides, over my shoulders, and came to rest on my embarrassingly heated cheeks. “Positive.”

Without even a second of hesitation, I pushed him back down into the mattress, his loose hair sprawling around his head like a dark halo on the pillow. Paul flashed a charming, yet nervous grin as my lips traveled lower across his chest. “I wanna make you feel good,” I muttered against his heated skin, sucking and leaving sweet little kisses wherever I pleased. A hand wove its way into my disheveled hair and pulled me into his heaving form. “Then do it,” Paul hissed, breathless. Christ–I could hardly keep myself from thrusting a hand down the front of my pants and finishing immediately. But God, I knew that I wanted this just as much as he did. And I was determined to make his very first time worthwhile. If that meant dragging this foreplay out for as long as possible, I was more than willing to do it for Paul, because making him feel good was at the very top of my priority list.

I climbed back up his half naked form and kissed my way around his drooping face, over his irresistible chubby cheeks, down to the rounded tip of his nose, his eyes fluttering when my lips gently met his eyelids. “You are extraordinary, James Paul McCartney,” I gushed against his lips, sucking his bottom one between mine and running my tongue over it, earning a weak whimper from him when our tongues met. His hips lifted searching for the delicious friction that I only could grant him. I would occasionally let our crotches meet as I once again left a trail of sweet kisses down his body. His dark hair grew much thicker as I descended to his navel and swirled my tongue around the outside of his belly button. “Ugh, J-John,” Paul whined, the petite hand that remained in my hair pushing me down towards where he ached the most. My head lifted from its place against his pale skin, shushing him in a teasing manner because I knew that it would bother him. An adorable wave of irritation washed over his moonlit features, but soon disappeared almost completely as I moved my hands to undo the button of his trousers and pull down the zip. Paul desperately lifted his backside off of the bed so I could pull down the pants to pool at his ankles. The tent in his crotch was even more prominent now, as only one layer now stood between my now salivating mouth and his pulsing hard member. My angular nose nudged him cheekily through the cotton layer and he had to bite his knuckle to keep from emitting a pained groan when I licked a solid stripe up his length through the fabric.

“Fuck, sh-shit, oh!” Paul whimpered against his hand while I began to nip at the hairy, flexing skin pulled taut over his milky thighs. I hooked my eager fingers around the elastic waist band of his plaid boxers and yanked then down, grinning in awe when his leaking erection sprang free from the damp material. At this point, I couldn’t wait very much longer, and sucked the glistening tip into the heat of my mouth almost immediately. Paul’s grip in my hair tightened as he tried his very hardest to keep quiet. He let out an agonized grunt, and when I lifted my eyes to look at him, I swore that I very well could’ve come right then and there. His features were twisted in the delicious pleasure that my tongue gave him, whirling around the head and occasionally dipping into the slit from which the globs of precome leaked uncontrollably. Paul’s normally innocent doe eyes were squeezed shut, the little crow’s feet he’d always had at the corners more prominent in his blissful state, and his plump mouth opened only the slightest bit to reveal his tongue darting out to lick his dried lips.

When I took him fully into my mouth, a seemingly frustrated moan vibrated from deep down in his chest, and I had to hold his hips to keep him from thrusting up wildly into my mouth and choking me. I continued working on his pulsing dick, occasionally stroking him with my hand to give my tired mouth a short rest. And when I dragged a knuckle down, brushing past his balls and nudging at his puckered opening, he thrust uncontrollably up into my wet mouth. “Ngh, come on, John,” Paul pleaded wantonly, pushing down against my two fingers which had just recently started to explore the surrounding area. I pulled my mouth off of his dick and bit my lip, thinking that I’d soon be able to fully have the exquisite boy below me. My eyes floated to his dark ones, once more asking for permission, which he so graciously granted with a quick nod and stroke of his fingers against my scalp. A panicked yelp left his lips when the tip of my index finger slowly breached his opening. Immediately, I retracted my digit and looked to him. “I think we’re gonna need somethin’,” I muttered thinking for a moment of what we could possibly use to make the slide at least a little bit easier. My mind fell to the little canister of Vaseline on my desk that we would use on our calloused fingers after practicing for hours. With a quick kiss to the still glistening, red tip of his erection, I rose from my place between his legs and stood to retrieve the container across the room. My fingers fumbled with my belt, managing to undo it after what felt like several pained minutes of work, earning a quiet giggle from Paul, and I slid my jeans and boxers down my wobbling legs in one go. I sauntered back over to the extremely disheveled boy sprawled out on my bed, who was taking the short opportunity to kick off the remainder of his garments that had previously been pooled around his ankles.

Dipping my fingers into the canister, I made sure to use a sufficient amount so that I wouldn’t hurt the already frightened boy trembling above me. “Are you still completely certain that you want this? I don’t have a problem waiting for a bit until you feel ready,” I whispered sweetly. My eyes searched his for any ounce of uncertainty. They showed none, however, except for an overwhelming need that was pulsing through his veins. “I couldn’t be more sure,” Paul affirmed, nodding and tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear as I again focused my attention on that nearly hidden little hole below his balls. My greased fingers grazed the puckered skin gently before pushing one in slowly, keeping an eye on his expression intently and making sure that he was alright. “You make sure you tell me if anything hurts,” I demanded firmly. Paul only nodded and gnawed on his lower lip roughly, looking like he was actually going to draw a bit of blood. His eyes never left mine, and as my finger had finally become fully sheathed inside of the incredible warm tightness, they grew much wider and alert. I gave him time to adjust to my breaching finger and held it still inside of him, marvelling at the near heavenly feeling of him wrapped so fucking tightly around me. ‘Christ, if he feels like this around my finger even, then what’ll he feel like around my dick?’ I thought dreamily, feeling my heartbeat pick up rapidly.

Paul’s hips shifted and I could hear the slightest little whimper leave his lips in frustration. “Go ahead, p-please,” he sighed desperately. My careful finger began to move in short little thrusts in and out of the hot tightness. “Jesus, Paul, you wouldn’t believe how fuckin’ tight you feel, it’s incredible…” I mused, completely awestruck. To be frank, I had absolutely no idea how I was going to fit inside of him fully when the time came. I mean, all the other queers had done it, and eventually ended up getting their dick into the other man. I sort of felt bad for him in a way, knowing that he’d most feel a substantial twinge of pain when I would first push in. “Oh, oh–do that again,” Paul whimpered from above me, tearing me from my thoughts. I cocked an eyebrow in confusion, having not really noticed what I did to make him squirm against my working finger in a tiny fit of pleasure. “What’d I do?” I questioned, genuinely lost from when my thoughts had snatched me away. “I dunno, I think you curled your finger or somethin’. It was brief, but I felt it, and God–” Paul cut off in the middle of his sentence, his mouth suddenly falling agape and eyes fluttering when I did as he told, curling my digit and stroking a little curve of flesh inside of him. “Like this?” I grinned mischeivously, not daring to take my eyes off of him as he became unraveled under my touch. Paul’s head was thrown back in pleasure, revealing his flexing neck and now even more prominent Adam’s apple. “That’s it, holy shit, m-more,” he crooned, his voice raspy and weak. Slipping in another finger, I made sure to press down on that little bundle of nerves hidden deep inside of him. Paul’s erection inadvertently twitched up towards his hairy navel in response, and he squirmed against my scissoring digits, emitting little cut off noises. The precome leaked out of the slit in a seemingly endless stream, pooling out on his stomach just below his belly button. Seeing him blissed out, all disheveled and panting because of me, was enough to nearly send me over the edge without even having to touch myself.

His hand latched onto my wrist, pulling my fingers from his stretched hole and dragging me up his body. Our lips met, Paul groaning and shuddering below me, probably tasting himself on my eager tongue. “I wanna make love to you,” I whispered into his cheek, my heart bursting at my own words. I didn’t notice at first, but his fingers had, at some point, dipped into the canister on my nightstand. A warm, trembling hand wrapped around my erection between out bodies and began to stroke up and down leisurely. “Fuck Paul, I could’ve done it myself,” I chuckled, overwhelmed by the feeling of his fingers folded around my dick so gingerly, his thumb occasionally dragging across the slit to gather up the precome that was dribbling out. It took everything in me to not just thrust up into his hand and come right there. The look he had on his face as he stroked me made it all even more difficult, his puppy eyes innocent and wide in fascination, peering up at me with thin, raised eyebrows. Paul’s bowed lips were pouted and glistening with the saliva that still lingered there from our most recent kiss. My head fell slack against his, my eyes uncontrollably fluttering shut at the feeling of the boy’s greased hand tugging at my pulsing length. Whimpering at the loss of contact, I pulled away from him, or else I would’ve been gone right there.

Paul thankfully got the message and shifted his legs so that I could position my now over-sensitive erection at his entrance. My hands smoothed over his nipples, to which he arched his back into them, and rested on his rounded cheeks, thumbs stroking back and forth in earnest. “If you ever need me to stop, just tell me,” I reassured, and he nodded his head in response, his eyes not straying from mine for even a fraction of a second. Kissing between his curved eyebrows, I whispered into the skin. “I love you, Paul.”

And when I finally pushed just my tip in, it felt like I was about to black out from the crazy tight sensation enveloping me down there. Paul was doing alright, as he nodded to me to tell me know that I could continue pushing. God, if he had told me to stop, I didn’t think I’d be able to. I thrust another slow inch into him, and that’s when he finally let out a small whimper. Paul’s face was contorted in pain, and I pressed a gentle palm to his navel to help him relax, stopping all movement immediately. “It burns,” Paul croaked, his muscles squeezing around me almost painfully. “Do you want me to stop?” I asked sincerely. Of course, it was going to take a minute for Paul to find the pleasure that he’d felt earlier. But I didn’t want him to feel so uncomfortable that I couldn’t move, even if it almost pained me at the thought of having to pull out of the rippling tightness that I was sheathed halfway inside of. “No! No, keep going, please,” Paul nearly shouted, his hands gripping my back and fingernails digging into my skin. He shook his head back and forth rapidly. “There’s something more to all of this, and I want it.” His eyes were kind and honest, and I truly believed him when he nodded in reassurance. With a deep breath and a quick kiss, I resumed moving into him until I was buried to the hilt, his insides squeezing around me in the most fantastic way. “God, Paul, maybe if you relaxed just a little bit, mhm,” I vocalized, gyrating my hips against his arse to try to stretch him out more. He only giggled, much to my surprise, and shifted his body along with mine. “Y'know, it’s not–ugh–it’s not as bad now if you wanna–” I’d heard plenty, so I leaned down to place another brief kiss to his pouted lips, pulling out of him ever so slightly before thrusting back in, dragging a perfect moan from his lips and making his jaw go completely slack. I began to gradually build up a steady pace, moving in and out of him in short little thrusts to let Paul get more used to the feeling. A warmth pooled in my groin and spread throughout my entire body when he hooked his legs around my waist to pull me in impossibly closer. “Mhm, come on Johnny, I know you can do so much better than that,” he purred, the glint of arousal still very much there in his darkened eyes.

That was all the confirmation I needed to pick up to the pace of my now urgent thrusts. My hands roamed over his chest, trapping his pink nipples between my eager fingers and watching him writhe underneath me in pleasure. I continued on like that for a while, his still leaking erection being rutted against by my stomach. “C-Christ, Paulie. I’ve never s-seen anything more divine in my life,” I gasped, my chest beginning to burn in exertion. Paul half-chuckled through the mangled groan that floated from his lips and thrusted against me, trying to find that spot deep inside. “Divine, eh? Really–oh John!” My insides melted into mush hearing him groan out my name so obscenely. Not changing the angle of my wild thrusts, I laid over him to cover his damp skin, nipping and licking up the salty taste on his strained neck. “You are so fuckin’ beautiful,” I marvelled, my hips slowing to a leisurely pace that was neither too fast or too slow. My hands found his and I tangled our fingers together, bringing them to rest on the pillow on either side of his head. Paul lifted ever so slightly just to meet my mouth in a passionate kiss that made me feel like everything around us was melting away. It was only me and him in this moment, his slightly chapped lips moving slowly against mine with no sense of urgency or roughness. We were truly connected then, our mouths melding over and over again and ears perking at the near-silent sounds that we were making into each other. I would give anything in the world for us to be able to stay like this forever, to be wrapped up in the tangle of each other for eternity.

All too soon, the muscles pulling unrelentingly at my dick became far too much to handle, and the familiar warm, tingling sensation began to spread throughout my groin and stomach. Not wasting a second of time, I moved a hand between our heaving bodies and managed to stroke him in time with my now weak thrusts. I pressed my forehead to Paul’s, my eyes never leaving his as he thrust up into my hand and working hips. His doe eyes rolled back in his head when his release finally began to take over, his muscles contracting around me and pulling me in farther than I’d been before. Paul came in spurts onto my hand and against my stomach, his wild cries being muffled by the hand he’d moved to cover his mouth just in time. God, he was so beautiful like this his soft features pulled taut in absolute pleasure, his eyes fluttering shut and his eyebrows furrowed together. Just the sight of him was far too much for my poor self to handle, and I came inside of him, whining and babbling nonsensical praises into his neck. A hand tangled into my hair, which now probably resembled something along the lines of a wet squirrel, and kept me flush against his neck as our heart rates and breathing slowly sank back to normal.

It wasn’t until later that night that he finally spoke, his voice all raspy and raw against the crook of my neck.

“Divine? Really?”

“Shut up.”

tetsuroupapi  asked:

Hey Nina. This is kinda a depressing question, but my prompto cosplay is not going how I want and I have to wear it in two days to my school. But I'm really questioning that because 1. it just looks funky and 2. I don't want people making fun of me. Though it is only the 3rd cosplay I've made, I'm losing my confidence in all of my cosplay plans for the future. I'm a perfectionist and I compare myself to others so much. Since you seem like a really helpful & nice person, how do I deal with this?

First off: I’m very sorry for likely replying after the fact. It’s extremely difficult for me to keep up with my inbox on this site (especially for messages that need a lengthier answer like this), so I don’t always get to respond to inquiries with a quick turn-around. I hope your event at school ended up going well, though!

Secondly: I’m so proud of you for tackling a project outside of your comfort zone to push your skills! It’s important for artists to do that; it’s what helps us grow and learn and most of all, improve. The worst thing you can do as an artist is never push yourself or try new things. It’ll make you stagnate and cause your progress to plateau. So good job for attempting such a difficult costume so early in your cosplay journey!

Thirdly: Yes, Prompto is an extremely challenging costume. It involves a ton of little techniques and details that aren’t apparent at a first glance, and as a result, it’s a project that can get easily overwhelming. (Trust me: been there, done that!) So it’s no wonder you’re feeling frustrated, especially as a novice cosplayer! In which case, my recommendation from here on out would be that the next time you feel frustrated with your progress, take a step back. Evaluate what you don’t like and assess what you need to change in order to be happier with the final results. Don’t like the plaid you chose? Rip it off and find something else. Not happy with the paint job on the shirt? Start over. Take your time and use a different method. Unhappy with your wig styling? Wash out all the hair product and try again. There is no shame in remaking something two, three, four, or more times. Keep remaking it until you’re happy with it, even if it takes 10+ attempts. You will have so much more fun wearing something you’re proud of rather than something you just “settled” for or finished half-heartedly. (Also, on the note of budgeting: budget for this. Set money aside as a “back-up” fund in case things go wrong and you need more materials. That money should always be included in your original estimations! And if you end up not needing it? Cool, treat yourself in the Artist Alley.)

Lastly, and perhaps the most importantly: be more forgiving and let yourself make mistakes. You’re still learning. You’re still teaching yourself these skills. You have just started making costumes. Yaya’s first costumes were not perfect. Kamui’s first armor build was not flawless. Jessica started out with a Pikachu bikini and now she’s making stuff like this. Heck, look, here’s my first real cosplay that I made versus my most recent:

It’s taken me ten years to get this far. Why? Because for a lot of those years, I didn’t push myself. I stayed in my comfort zone. I chose projects that didn’t teach me new skills or force me to work with new materials. It wasn’t until the last 4 years that I’ve really been focused on my craftsmanship and improving my skills, and that is what has allowed me to finish costumes like Sheik, Rapidash, and yes, Prompto too.

I know it’s hard. I know it’s frustrating. But you’re doing the right thing by attempting more difficult projects. Just remember that the frustration is part of the learning process. It’s good to get frustrated because it means you care and want to push yourself harder. It’s good to have high standards for your work because it means you’ll always strive to do your best.

However: it’s important to not let this frustration stunt your growth. Acknowledge your frustration, accept it, and learn to manage it. Take breaks while working. Don’t be afraid to revisit the drawing board. Set the costume aside and practice the skills you need to finish it before making another attempt. And again: forgive yourself for making mistakes. Yaya, Kamui, and Jess make them all the time. And you can bet your patootie I do, too. (Anyone who’s watched my livestreams knows that I mess up quite a bit, haha!)

Whether or not you ended up wearing it to school, I hope your Prompto cosplay turns out in a way that makes you happy! Don’t give up; work smarter, not harder. You’ve got this! <3


A collection of (most) all my artfight attacks! Definitely had a fun time and would participate again.

People who made these cute OC’s: @ventiusx, @m-ochaa, @princesawyer, lone03wolf, @little-yellow-songbird, and @captaintimber

Bonus: @shadylightknight <3333


A stimboard based on the paint on the outside walls of my apartment, because I couldn’t find any other inspiration. Lots of blue-greens with tan highlights.

(For the @stimtastic giveaway. All gifs and the photo belong to me, I took them myself. Please don’t repost. 😊)

anonymous asked:

Hey, multiple father figures! I'm feeling rather down, to be honest. I went to the beach not too long ago, and, as I was wearing a bikini, my strech marks were visible. I felt disgusted for the rest of the trip, and covered myself with a towel. And that's only one incident. I got my period way early, I've been having nightmares, I hate therapists, but I really think I need one. But, as of right now, can someone just help me feel better?

Oh no :( It sounds as though you’re having a rough time, sweetheart. Here, have some fatherly wisdom: 

1. I’m proud of you for being brave and wearing a bikini, but also for knowing your own limits and not pushing yourself too hard once you got uncomfortable. While I don’t think there’s anything shameful about stretch marks, I understand that sometimes our self-consciousness gets the better of us. I encourage you to continue being brave by wearing the clothes you want to, and I promise that it will get easier with time. It’s okay to cover up when you need to, but please don’t let that stop you from wearing what you want in the first place.

2. It seems as though you’re being overwhelmed by everything happening at the same time. Not that I can blame you- it’s easy to see life as the ocean and become afraid when a giant wave looks like it’s going to send your boat under the surface. The next time you start to feel like everything is too big to handle, I want you to sit down and press your feet into the floor, then take a deep breath through your nose. It won’t always work, but sometimes that moment of clarity is the deciding factor between giving up or pushing forward- and you strike me as the type to push forward. 

If you still need help cheering up, here’s the link to one of my favourite live kitten cameras: http://explore.org/live-cams/player/kitten-rescue-cam

You’ve got this, honey. Hold on tight.
-Dad Alexander


I just want to say thank you for using this blog to help so many people.  You draw so much comfort / motivational art for complete strangers even though you really don’t have to, and I really respect and admire that.  You’re an amazing person.

(And please don’t feel pressured to respond to this!  I know you’ve got a lot on your plate right now … I just wanted to say thanks.)

{Not just because I ended up talking about Jyushimatsu’s dick so much again. I’ll elaborate under the cut.}

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

If someone is looking for a new show, may I suggest "The Young Pope"? Being Italian myself, I'm so proud of Oscar-winning director Mr. Paolo Sorrentino. He's such a visionary! The cinematography is stunning, the costumes are beautifully made, sets and locations are gorgeous, you'll fall in love with the characters (Lenny will grow on you, you can't help it!), the cast is fantastic, and Jude Law is just perfect in this role! It's a story about faith and doubt, and it's all kinds of amazing! ❤

Thanks anon. I will look into this, though I have to say Jude is not really my cup of tea, but if show is good I don’t really care what actors are in it.

Originally posted by orwell


I didn’t and don’t really ship Caviva, but man this was too cute of an idea to pass up.

Chris found Aviva outside looking at the stars, and they sat and talked for a while, he said something funny and all of a sudden she started laughing, and he looked at her right then and got hit smack in the face with “oh no she’s so gorgeous oh crap what do I do???“ I titled this “starstruck.”

I had a lot of fun with this, even though it’s really lazy (in my opinion) and I didn’t spend as much time as I should.

the-ruby-chronicles  asked:

DONNIE! I just got back a week of police camp! It was very strict/military, a lot of physical training, weapons, self defense, and endurance. I was nervous, I though I wouldn't make it (I felt like I had the skill set of Timothy in a room full of you guys). But I graduated today! And I won a award for most improved along with a 500 dollar scholarship. For the first time in a long time I'm really proud of myself.

Most improved? that’s great! It means your hard work really did pay off. Congrats on the scholarship. You have every right to be proud. 

anonymous asked:

I just finished my dissertation even though my teacher has been bullying me all year and triggering my PTSD after tomorrow when I hand it in I never have to see her again. I needed to tell someone cause I'm really proud of myself as I usually avoid anything that's a trigger for me.


We are all very proud of you. Great job and good riddance to bad rubbish!!

joes-motorcycle  asked:

Barty, I'm so proud of you for considering Regulus's feelings and not kissing him even though you really want to. I think you two would make the best couple, but you know he doesn't want that with you. I have immense respect for you for being so selfless and respectful of his wishes. <3

Drunk Barty: Thank you!!!!

Drunk Barty: Not going to lie, but I do imagine myself kissing him with various different backgrounds (Hogwarts, Eiffel Tower, Great Pyramind etc)…. but no.  I couldn’t.  

crdered  asked:

“Will you marry me?” FROM QUIN

four word prompts

Tonight had been an unexpectedly ROMANTIC night. There were times when Quinlan did things that were just…. endearing, in that roguish way of his.

Like earlier, when he walked behind her seat in the cockpit and kissed her cheek. And later, as he PROUDLY presented a bottle of Tevraki Whisky that she wasn’t quite sure how he got it, but was more than glad to share with him. Now, they were far past the realm of “tipsy” and toeing the line between DRUNKEN BANTER and falling asleep against the side of her– their bed.

They speak in hushed tones, shoulder to shoulder, Quinlan’s hand sitting over her’s on the cold floor. There’s a blissful, almost BUBBLY air surrounding the two of them. Asajj can’t quite remember feeling bubbly before. But it feels like the perfect word for how she feels now.

A soft smile came to her lips as she leaned her head against his shoulder. The words “I LOVE YOU,” escape her in a quiet hush, and she doesn’t mind how the alcohol has loosened her tongue.

“I love you, too.” He answers back.

Not a breath later Quinlan tilts her chin upward and presses his lips to her’s, quietly, softly, PASSIONATELY. Asajj leans into the kiss lazily, and she feels content. She shifts until she’s sitting on his lap, straddling him as they kiss. The headiness of the whisky mixed in with their closeness until it’s INTOXICATING. Quinlan belongs with her, she belongs with him. They showed it in each kiss, in the way he held her waist and she his face.

Quinlan is the first to break their lips apart, leaning his forehead against her’s. Asajj takes the opportunity to catch her breath, chuckling softly. “Too much for you to handle?”

She can feel him smile without really looking. “Who, me? NEVER.” It’s exactly the sort of answer she’s come to expect. “But…”


A sudden quiet comes between them as Asajj leans back just enough to really LOOK at him. There’s resolve on his face, muted by the softness of his dark eyes. And then, with the gentlest voice he can muster, Quinlan asks, “Asajj… will you marry me?”

Asajj felt all of her breath leave in an instant. She’s about to laugh at the very idea of it. MARRIAGE? If not for the look on his face, she’d ask if he was joking. But there’s no mistaking that deep look in Quinlan’s eye.

“… You’re serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“That’s…” In a rare moment, she’s at a loss for words. She flicks her eyes away from him. “You really want that?”

“Asajj.” Quinlan moved one hand to her cheek, encouraging her to look at him. “You are the most AMAZING woman I’ve ever met. You’ve changed my life in so many ways… ways that I didn’t think were possible. Being with you here, on this ship, feels like home. I didn’t know if I’d ever have a real home again after leaving the Order.” His mouth twitches UPWARD in a faint smile as Asajj meets his gaze. “But I found a home. You are my home. I can’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else more than here, with you. So if you’ll have me, I–”


Quinlan blinked. “Yes?”

Asajj smiles, feeling UNDIGNIFIED and silly, but these are feelings that she’s come to embrace with him around. “Yes.” She says again, this time with more conviction.

And just like that, with a near musical laugh and blinding smile, Quinlan kissed her. He kisses her deeply and JOYOUSLY, and she returns it. They melt together in a drunken, laughable mess, each kiss sealing their PROMISE to each other. Quinlan stands and lifts her with ease as Asajj wraps her legs around his back, only for the two of them to fall down right into bed.

He kisses every inch of skin he can reach and Asajj LAUGHS, her fingers digging into the back of his undershirt. In between breaths she can hear his excited “I love you”’s, drinking them in, letting the heat of the moment wash over her in a wave of pure emotion.

This is it. This is the person she wants to be with, no matter the cost.

The future is a dark, UNKNOWN place. There’s no telling what she might face.

But, Asajj thinks to herself, still smiling wide as Quinlan kisses her neck, I know I won’t have to face it alone.

Ruki Mukami: A Sacrifice

You saw him every day. You knew who he was. He knew that you knew. Yet, you felt ignored by him and his brothers. As if none of them cared about your knowledge. Even more bothering - the fact that you didn’t know anything about them - what was true? Monsters from legends, was it how it really looked like? Were they scared of light, did they sleep in coffins…? You were curious. But there was only way to convince him to talk to you.

You had to sacrifice a part of yourself.

Keep reading

theemmed  asked:

What about High school best friends Harry and Louis sharing their first kiss on New Years? 🐶

Just assume this takes place somewhere where it’s warm over New Years. Like Australia. Lovely, wonderful Australia. 

warning for underage drinking and drunken kissing


Louis’ drunk. He hasn’t been drunk before, so he’s not one hundred percent sure, but he’s pretty sure if someone was drunk this is how it would feel. 

The house, with it’s thumping music and loud conversation, is just a little too much at the moment. It had been to hot in there, almost stiflingly warm, which is why Louis had dragged Harry out to sit in the garden with him. 

Harry is definitely drunk. 

“Lou,” he says. He’s got his head tilted backwards, resting against the brick wall that they’re leaning on. When he looks at Louis he doesn’t lift his head, just swivels his neck, like he’s weighed down by all those curls. He’s so dumb. “Lou, m’cold.” 

Louis sighs and takes off his jacket. He was feeling too hot in it anyway, even in the chilled night air, but that’s not important. It’s the principle of the matter, isn’t it. He reserves the right to grumble a bit. 

Still, he shucks it off his shoulders and hands it over to Harry - very pointedly not thinking about how he’d see Jason Donovan do the same thing for Leslie Corocan half an hour earlier. “There you go, ya knob,” he says. 

Harry blinks down at the jacket in front of him. “I can’t wear this,” he says after a beat. 

“Louis frowns. “What?” he says. “Why the fuck not?” 

Harry shrugs. “Won’t fit.” 

“What the fuck do you mean it won’t fit?” Louis gapes at him.

Harry shrugs and lifts his hand in an odd gesture that refers to his entire body. “Won’t fit,” he says again. “M’too big.” 

Louis definitely doesn’t blush at that. Definitely not. That would be fucking weird. 

And even if he does, it doesn’t fucking matter because he’s too busy puffing up his chest and twisting his entire body to stare at Harry incredulously. 

“Don’t want to stretch it,” Harry finishes. 

He looks peaceful and sleepy and content. 

Louis is livid. 

“Fine.” He snatches the jacket back so violently that Harry jolts a little. “Forget about it then, I don’t want your big dumb shoulders in my jacket anyway - ”

“Lou?” Harry interrupts dozily. “Who’re you gonna kiss?” 

All the breath leaves Louis’ body in one fell swoop. Which is fucking annoying because Louis had literally seen red when Harry had interrupted him and now all the fights drained out of him and his brain’s completely stopped working. 

He gapes at Harry again. It’s a little different this time, though. This time it’s because the thought that’s telling him to close his mouth isn’t quite connecting with his actual mouth - probably because every single inch of him is suddenly devoted to replaying Harry’s words again and again in his head. 

“Wh - ” he breathes out eloquently. “What?” 

Harry smiles beatifically at him. “Tonight?” he says. “At midnight, I mean. Who’re you gonna kiss?” 

Louis wasn’t going to kiss anyone. Probably because he’d actually forgotten that was a thing. Probably because he’d blocked that particular tradition from him mind after having seen Aunt Jodie practically mount Uncle Peter last New Years. Or because he’d only just secured an invite to this party by the skin of his teeth and there was no way in hell anyone here wanted to kiss him. 

Harry rolls his head back, looking upwards and staring at the sky. He doesn’t seem to mind that Louis’ gawping at him. In fact, he hasn’t seemed to notice. 

“I’ve been thinking about it, you know,” he says - and wow, Louis doesn’t want t know that. He didn’t know that he didn’t want to know that, but yeah, there’s suddenly an awfully heavy feeling in his gut that tells Louis that he really, really didn’t want to know that. 

“You have?” Louis’ voice is hoarse. 

Harry doesn’t seem to notice that either. He hums his assent. “Yeah, I have.” 

Louis licks his lips. He doesn’t know why he does that either. Tonight is turning out really, really strangely. “So, uhm,” he says, clearing his throat. “Who are you going to kiss?” 

Harry rolls his head back to look at Louis again. That’s probably really bad for his neck, Louis thinks. Then he doesn’t think anything at all because Harry says, 

“Can I kiss you, Lou?”

and Louis’ brain completely flat lines. 

Like, literally. 

He’s very dimly aware of a countdown happening around him, something telling him urgently that its now or fucking never, but it’s consumed completely by the thought that his best friend wants to kiss him. And even that is overshadowed by the realization that Louis would really, really like it if he did. 

A sudden cheer jolts him from his thoughts, the sounds of everyone inside the house and the crowd that has gathered outside finishing their countdown to raucous celebration. 

Harry is still watching him. Or watching his lips, more to the point. 

“Lou?” he says. “Can I?” 

Louis blinks at him. “The countdown’s finished,” he says, a little numbly. “We missed it.” 

Harry just blinks at him earnestly. “I’d still like to kiss you, I think,” he says. His eyes dart up from Louis’ mouth to meet his gaze for a fraction of a second, before sliding back down. “Is that alright?” 

Louis didn’t actually know how alright that was until Harry suggested it, but now he wants nothing more in the entire world. His heart is thundering in his chest. “Yeah,” he says finally. “Go for it.” 

And Harry kisses him. 

It’s not very practiced but Louis doesn’t know that because he’s never kissed anyone before anyway. All Louis notices, as his eyelids shutter close, is the unbelievable softness of Harry’s lips and the slight tang of alcohol on his breath. It’s nice, it’s so, so nice and the fact that it’s Harry makes it so much nicer. 

It doesn’t last long, no matter how much Louis would like it to. 

Harry pulls back, his eyelids hooded slightly and his lips a startling pink. He hums, then drops his head forward, resting against the crook of Louis’ neck. 

“That was nice,” he says, because they’ve always been on exactly the same wavelength. “We should do that again.” 

Louis brings his hand up to tangle his fingers in Harry’s curls, nodding without even having to think. “Yeah,” he says. “We should.” 

This years gonna be a good one, he thinks.