i've never done coloring like this before so keep that in mind


Hypothetical Handplates scenario in which Sans realizes he can teach himself Common.

(Ugh, tumblr is making them blurry for some reason so I guess full-view if you want the not-blurry version??)

Convoluted explanation incoming. Handplates is an Undertale fancomic by @zarla-s and if you like Papyrus and Sans, go read it, is good stuff. So I guess this is an AU fancomic of an AU fancomic? I dunno, the idea wouldn’t leave my brain until I did something with it. So. Zarla did a Christmas doodle where Gaster gave the boys a box of ginger cookies that had the word COOKIES on the side in big letters, and because my job gives me way too much time to think about random stuff, I realized something.

In Handplates, Gaster taught the bros to read and write Wingdings but deliberately did not teach them monster Common (ie: English) so they can’t read his nametag or anything. Thing is, Wingdings is a 1:1 substitution cipher for English. Every Wingdings symbol exactly equals an English letter; it’s not a different language, just a different set of pictures. As somebody who has taught herself a fair number of substitution ciphers, there are a few things you look for when you’re trying to translate a code and you don’t have a key in front of you. Most notably, single-letter words (in English they will usually be A or I) or double letters next to each other. Like the OO in “COOKIES”.

Sans is smart. Gaster has fed them junk food before and odds are good Sans knows how to spell “COOKIES”. The word is on the box in huge letters and Gaster just said it out loud, so it is fresh in Sans’ mind. That double-O is a huge tip-off. He would put it together that the word on the front of the box matches what’s inside. Once you figure out a few of the letters, it becomes steadily easier to decode the rest.

I feel like Gaster exposes the boys to enough Common (the nametag, food wrappers, computer monitors, the books Sans sits on) that Sans could pick it up with a proper starting point. Papyrus probably not, because he had a hard enough time with Wingdings, but Sans is eager for any opportunity to undermine Gaster and I’m sure he’d jump at the chance. In this comic he elects not to tell Papyrus, though. He doesn’t know Gaster has cameras in the cell (or even what a camera is) but he’s figured out that Gaster can spy on them somehow, and the last time Gaster caught them learning something he didn’t like, Papyrus got the ever-loving hell beat out of him. So Sans keeps quiet about it for now. And thus starts the long-standing tradition of keeping important secrets from his brother.

On the technical side, it took me a freakin’ week to sketch and outline this whole thing. Coloring and shading only took me like a day. In the meantime Zarla actually kinda addressed the cookie comic, but this was almost done by then so oh well. I’m finding my poses and proportions turn out a LOT better when I’m doodling skeletons, like what, drawing basic anatomy will make you better at anatomy, you don’t say?? A lot of this was a self-challenge to see if I could imitate Zarla’s art style, and I referenced previous Handplates comics a lot for the backgrounds and Sans’ face. Full disclosure: Gaster’s pose up there is basically copied from Zarla’s original comic because I was rushing through to get on to the actual meat of the story. He’s just here for setup. I had fun trying to figure out how to do his Lost Soul head though. Also, I hate Papyrus’ face from the front. Also also, it was tricky trying to convey “mentally translating an unknown alphabet into a known one” when pretty much everyone who sees this comic is already familiar with the “unknown” one and not the “known” one, but I think I pulled it off. 

TL;DR- I imitated somebody else’s style to do an AU of an AU; I am not Zarla; Zarla is the creator of Handplates and also Gaster’s pose in the first panel; I like ciphers too much and also I gave the cookies icing because that is the only kind of ginger cookie I know.

anonymous asked:

Can you give me some advices/tutorials on how to make gifs? I suck at it and hell, I've been trying to gif for two days and I still can't :(

Of course! Let me just say when you start off making gifs it can be very difficult and confusing (I know it was for me). So I’m going to try and give you lots of tips and things that I’ve learned so hopefully you can skip lots of the hard parts I had to learn on my own. Also don’t get discouraged if you feel like your gifs aren’t turning out amazing, you’ve just started and it’s taken me over the course of 3 years to start making ones I’m actually happy with, as always practice gives you experience! Anyways enough of my rambling lets get started.

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i was asked to do a tutorial on how i make my icons by anonymous, so here’s my super easy way of doing it. there’s no major editing or backgrounds simply because i’m super lazy and i prefer the look of clean, bright icons. i’ve only ever used this method on cartoons (voltron. i’ve only ever made voltron icons lol), so i can’t say for sure whether this method would work well with real people. just keep that in mind!

for some examples of what you can make, here’s my icons page.

please like/reblog if you try it out, and feel free to ask me any questions.

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Ponyboy x Reader

Anonymous asked: “I’m sorry I let you fall for me” Could you do this prompt with ponyboy?

“I’m sorry I let you fall for me.”


He was staring at you, tortured.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, entangling your fingers with his.

Ponyboy set his teeth on edge, turning away first. “There’s a rumble tonight. I don’t know if you heard.”

His words caused your breath to hitch in your throat. Distantly, you felt the Greaser tighten his grip on your hand, his thumb running over your skin in a shaky way. He was scared, that was obvious. You were scared. It was so stupid, both of you knew this.

You were a Soc and he was a Greaser. You’d face each other tonight in battle.

Both of you were sworn enemies. Water and oil. Blessings and curses. Deep and shallow-

“I won’t show.” Ponyboy’s suggestion tore you from your thoughts.

“No,” you said firmly, shaking your head. “They’ll find out. We both need to go.” You sighed. “We just have to try not to meet in the fray.”

Ponyboy looked unsure, but managed a smile. It perished before it reached his eyes, though.

“I love you,” he breathed.

You didn’t like that. This was a big deal, sure, but nobody was going to die. What the two of you had wasn’t going to fade. Your divisions weren’t going to take that away from you guys.

“I love you too, Ponyboy,” you murmured.

You lifted his hand up to your face and kissed the top of it, smiling back at him. “This isn’t going to change anything, you hear? We’re still on our date for Thursday,” you chuckled.

It took a few moments, but ultimately the boy joined you in laughter. “Good. I’ve been saving up some cash. You’re in for a treat, Y/N,” he said contently.

The most obvious issue seemed to wear away at that second, and Ponyboy wrapped his other arm around your shoulder. You exhaled softly as he pulled you close against his chest, running his fingers through your hair and humming easily. You felt his heart beat beneath the heel of your hand as his fingers fell away from yours.

It was dusk. Streams of orange bolted across the sky and melted deep into the horizon. Some stars flickered in and out of sight. You liked the way the scenery reflected off of Ponyboy’s eyes.

The rest of the evening was spent in comfortable silence, with your hands snagging in the boy’s shirt and his fingers combing through your hair. It was too late to relent your feelings for Ponyboy, you knew this. You loved him from the bottom of your heart. He felt the same way towards you. That wouldn’t cease. Well, you hoped it wouldn’t. It was truly your worst fear.

“Ponyboy!” a familiar voice echoed over the terrain.


“Time to come home, bud! Gotta get ready!”

Ponyboy stiffened against you. It was evident that his brother was talking about the upcoming rumble. He pressed his lips to your forehead before gazing down at you.

“I have to go, but, I mean, I’ll see you later,” he stammered.

“Okay. Stay safe.” You kissed his cheek as he stood up. “See you soon.”

“Love you.”

“Love you.”


The night was still. There was no wind. No more stars either, too many clouds. And no Greasers. Yet.

You were sitting on top of the hood of your friend’s car. Most of the Socs were wrestling with each other already, but careful enough not to push each other to the ground. Your outfits were clean, something the Greasers never contributed in rumbles. Playful cursing filled the air and twigs snapped beneath people’s feet. Nobody was scared. Nobody allocated your fears.

“They’re here!” someone cried out.

So they were, you thought. Familiar faces came into your line of sight and you hurried to join your rank.

“Time to demolish the town’s inferior kids,” someone beside you growled. You were too busy looking for Ponyboy to pay them any real mind, though.

You still didn’t know all of the Greasers, but you recognized the three Curtis brothers and some more of their friends. Though a handful of them still looked unfamiliar.

Ponyboy took your breath away when you finally spotted him. It seemed you did the same for him when he saw you. The world between you two froze, and it was simply you and Ponyboy. No other labels were needed.

For a fraction of time, you weren’t a Soc and he wasn’t a Greaser. You were equals. You loved each other, and that was enough.

But the truth caught up to you and just like that, your hopes were eradicated. You were back, and Ponyboy dipped his head, averting your gaze. You did the same.

At this point the two groups were in a line, bracing each other for war. People’s teeth bared and hands formed fists. Anticipation was wearing.

“You cannot be your own saviors,” a Greaser taunted suddenly. It was Ponyboy’s eldest brother. He stepped out from his band and glared at the people you had grown up with.

“You cannot protect yourselves from us,” another Greaser jeered.

You knew the second Greaser. You had never talked to him, but you knew of him. Everyone did. It was Dallas Winston. Patches of purple already stained his knuckles. He was hungry for a fight. He was desperate.

“We wouldn’t dream of protecting ourselves against delinquents,” one of your Socs sneered.

Dallas stepped to the side of Ponyboy’s older brother, Darry, and puffed his chest. He was goading the Socs. You could almost see the steam pouring out of his ears.

“You deserve all of the hurt you’re about to get,” he seethed.

Your fellow Soc gritted his teeth. You saw the muscles straining in his neck, how his jaw tightened, how his eyes gleamed dangerously.

“Good thing your parents’ll be able to pay for your hospital bills,” Dallas stated.

The Soc couldn’t take it any longer. He pounced without say, but Dallas was ready.

The rumble was on.

A Greaser took you by surprise, slugging your shoulder and causing your dominant arm to go numb. His gray eyes flickered, and his grin widened. You did your best to protect yourself, jabbing at his stomach and dodging behind him, kicking the back of his knees. He was strong, though, too tall and too stocky for you to stand a real chance. A snicker escaped him as he landed another punch to your jaw, and you realized who this Greaser was.

Ponyboy had told you stories about the guy who could get out of any business with the fuzz. How he was still a junior at eighteen and a half. How he could brighten up anyone’s day with a joke. As he decorated you with dark colors, you wished you had gotten to know that side of him.

“Two-Bit!” you heard someone shriek. “You’re pummeling a body! Take a real challenge over here.”

That was Ponyboy talking, you perceived leisurely. Two-Bit gave you one last shove, and you stumbled to the ground, receding to your knees. But the male was gone when you peered back up.

By now your body was throbbing in multiple places. The side of your head hurt. You saw yourself curl your fingers, but didn’t feel it. There was a burning sensation in your shoulder.

“Y/N,” a hushed voice said.

Ponyboy was suddenly right beside you. You gazed at him and did your best to hide your smile. He didn’t do the same, but instead put his hand behind your head and repositioned you onto your back, grabbing the collar of your shirt to keep you from falling. At this angle, it looked like he was looming over you, spewing threats. But his eyes were soft and his lip was already bleeding.

“Stay low,” he instructed. “I don’t know how long this will last. This has been building up for months. Both sides are fired up,” he admitted.

“It’s alright,” you told him. “I’m fine. You should go, before someone realizes what you’re doing.”

Ponyboy grimaced, but laid your head on the grass gently.

“I’m sorry I let you fall for me,” he whispered.

You weren’t hurt bad, but your mind was slow, and you told him that he hadn’t let you fall. That he set you down gingerly.

Ponyboy frowned and opened his mouth to speak, although another voice rang out. A Greaser compelled him back to the fight, but he kissed the top of your hand as you had done to him only hours before. Then he bolted away.

anonymous asked:

I saw you wrote that thingy about Trans!Will on his period and I was maybe wondering if I could request something like that? Like maybe... Will coming out to Nico or something like that? (I've never done this question thing before and its anonymous and my anxiety is urging me to press the cancel button and I don't know why 👀).

never be scared to send in an ask, on or off anon!! i love getting asks tbh… and i love writing trans will stuff!! i have another trans will coming out fic on my ao3 (willsolaceyall) so hit me up there if you wannu to!


Will didn’t hide any part of his identity - that wasn’t his style. He was a Loud and Proud kind of guy. Will Solace was the kind of guy to yell “I’m gay!” at the top of his lungs in response to any personal question. On top of that, he often wore the trans flag emblazoned on different jackets and shirts and even socks. On many an occasion, Will walked around camp with a giant pride flag draped across his shoulders as he zoomed around like a superhero and called himself ‘The Terf Destroyer’. 

So, he never thought he’d have to come out to Nico. But, apparently, he was wrong.

Nico’s eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, pretty dark eyes locked on Will’s blue ones. “Wait, wait,” he interrupted again. “You’re talking like you have that too?”

Will’s face scrunched up like he’d taken a bite of something both very sour and terribly alarming. “What, a period? That’s because I do. You know that, darlin’, don’t you?”

Bushy red hair came into Nico’s view and suddenly he was looking at Rachel with the same perplexed expression. “Are you alright, Nico?” she asks and suddenly Nico isn’t so sure.

“You’re a man..” his whisper came, quiet yet so loud to Will’s ears. No amount of sparring in the distance could drown out his voice. Not even the volleyball game that was taking place nearby. “How do you have .. that?”

Will blinked. He rubbed his eyes, stuck his pinkies in his ears and twisted to clear them. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sorry and was obvious. “I’m sorry, I… I don’t think I’m understanding you. Do you have amnesia or something?”

Nico shook his head. “I would remember this, believe me.”

“Nico… I’m not exactly quiet about being trans. You know I’m trans, right?”

Rachel took this time to excuse herself. Apparently a mural was carving it’s way through her mind and if she didn’t skip off to paint it right this minute, they’d all face the wrath of Phoebus Apollo himself. (”It’s always nice to see my dad.” Will snarked. Rachel left laughing.)

When Rachel was finally gone far enough away, Will nervously shifted towards his boyfriend, clearing his throat. “You do know I’m trans, right? Like, this is okay?”

Nico shrugged. “I don’t know what trans means.”

“You…” Will’s blond curls fall over his forehead messily and that he didn’t automatically bring his hand up to toy with them or move them out of his face said something very loudly to Nico. And then Will sighed, brought his hand up in one motion, and tugged all of his own light hair backwards, pulling it. His eyes were wide. “How has no one told you yet…”

And Nico just shrugged again. He said, “Will you?” and smiled a bit when Will agreed because, of course Nico, why wouldn’t I?

“Well, there’s a lot of ways to explain this,” Will murmured. “But, I guess that the easiest way for someone who was born in your time period is… I was born a girl.” He paused at the look of surprise on Nico’s face. “Well, not really. But everyone though I was a girl because of body stuff. You know how doctors are. Bunch of quacks.” It’s here that Nico laughed, bringing hope to Will’s heart like he always did. “It wasn’t until later in my life, when I figured out I could be a boy that I realized that I always had been, secretly, inside. So.. I’ve got all the funny birthing components, like a uterus, or whatever you need, but I’m still a dude. There’s intersex trans dudes who might have different stuff,” Here, Nico’s face grew more perplexed, which cue’d Will’s turn to laugh. “Okay, okay, we’ll save that for a different discussion. But, basically, I’m transgender, which means ‘identifying as a different gender than the one assigned at birth’. They said I was a pretty little lady,” he shrugged with good humor. “I say I’m a pretty little man.”

Nico scratched his chin. “Is that what those colors are for? The flag?”

“Blue, pink, white, pink, blue,” said Will with pride. “If that’s what you’re referring to, then yes. That’s the trans flag.”

“And.. the other word. The one you-”



Will smiled at his boyfriend happily. “You’re very open-minded for a guy in your 80′s.”

Nico rolled his eyes, but Will could see him smiling. “Just shut up and tell me what it means.”


aaaa hope you enjoy!! idk why it was so hard for me to keep tense through out this, i kept wanting to switch to present tense?? haha anyways, hopefully it’s alright! i’ll see if i can save it, edit and revise a bit, and then post on ao3 in its Final Form … thank you for sending the request!!! - mod will

anonymous asked:

I was wondering how you came to the decision that God doesn't see being LGBT as a sin. I've been trying to discern what I believe God says about it, but I can't. It feels like I've been running into a wall for years. I want to believe that it's okay, but I can't seem to let myself. I don't feel like I've ever heard God say it was okay. I've seen a lot pointing to it being okay, but I've also seen a lot pointing to it being wrong. (1/2)

(2/2) And I don’t want to disobey God, but if it is wrong I know I will be angry and bitter the rest of my life. I kind of think maybe God has told me, but I don’t want His answer so I decided to ignore it. Or that God told me, but I thought it was me being hopeful and that He would never actually say I was okay so I didn’t believe it. I just wondered if you could give me any advice on this.

Hey! Thanks so much for reaching out to me. I understand how difficult this question is; it took me five years of asking questions, listening to the lived experience of others, soul searching, yelling at God, furiously highlighting my Bible, and praying to come to my conclusion. Which is, just to be transparent, that LGBTQ folks are fully included members of the body of Christ who are held to the same standards and are invited to live by a Biblically-based sexual ethic. LGBTQ folks are no different from any other Christian; they are are gifted in unique ways by the holy Spirit, struggle with unique temptations, and work for holiness and justice in their own unique ministries. 

As mentioned, my road to this answer was long and fraught, but it coalesced around three distinct events in the last year or so of my life. The first was reading God and the Gay Christian by Matthew Vines. I had encountered plenty of arguments for the affirmation of gay Christians before, but they always either encouraged gay Christians to live permanently celibate lives, or they held such a loose view of scripture that they disregarded every passage they didn’t like and elevated sociology and scientific research above the Bible. Now I absolutely affirm those in the church, gay or straight, who have been called to a lifetime of celibacy, and I am a big advocate of bringing current research into conversation with the Bible, but neither of these arguments were sufficient for me. God and the Gay Christian was a game changer. It’s written by a evangelical gay man who holds a very high view of both Biblical authority, and he took a year off his studies at Harvard divinity school to thoughtfully and lovingly engage Biblical witness on the subject of sexual orientation, both on a verse-by-verse and holistic basis. I read it in one sitting on a summer day in my living room, then put the book aside and said to God “Okay. I’m done fighting. I’m on board.”

The second event had been in the works for a while. It consisted of my abandoning my need to theologically police others on the minutia of issues of sexual orientation, a practice I have seen wreak unimaginable harm in and outside of the church. I had enough evidence to finally decide which side of the fence I came down on, and surrendered the rest to the Holy Spirit. If an LGBTQ person told me they loved Jesus, I decided to trust them, to trust the Holy Spirit with them, and to treat them just like any other brother or sister in Christ. The third event was my starting seminary, in which I met a number of gay, bi, trans, and nonbinary people who took the Bible and sex seriously, who were in love with God and absolutely committed to serving the church as pastors, teachers, and deacons. They erased any other hesitations I had. 

That’s my story, but turning to yours, beloved child of God, I encourage you to continue listening to the Holy Spirit through prayer and attentiveness to your own heart. The Bible is an amazing, life-giving book, but it isn’t as neat as we would like. It’s colored by the politics and context of its time, and it doesn’t pretend to be the unfailing rule of life we want it to be. You need to keep the scriptures close to you as you discern the right path; you need to engage God’s story and the person of Jesus and the Bible’s opinions on spiritual and social dimensions of sex. But ultimately, it will not make your decision for you. Neither will Matthew Vines or Tim Keller or any theologian on either side of the isle. One revelatory moment won’t make the daily choice of how you live in your body go away, and weeks or months of being confident in your spiritual choices doesn’t mean that doubt does not creep in sometimes to try and dissuade you from the truth. Repetitive nagging can be the Holy Spirit tugging our heart towards something new, but those ugly waves of guilt or self-hatred that crash in are absolutely not. 

I am so sorry you are having to have this conversation with God (and God wants to have it with you! He loves your body and your mind and created you as a sexual being with delight! She wants to guide you in how to inhabit your body fully and ethically and with joy!) in a time where human sexuality is a warzone. I’m sorry your existence has been politicized and that your presence in the church is seen as a statement rather than a cause for celebration. If there is a Bible study or church community where you feel welcome near you, root yourself there, let those people pour love into you and guide you but remember that at the end of the day, you answer only to God. Other people’s opinions are immaterial, and gender or sexuality labels, which sometimes helpful, pale in comparison to your true identity as an heir of God’s kingdom. 

P.S. Queerly Christian is THE PLACE for Biblical scholarship and community building about this issue. Give them a follow!

Help I've Fallen In Love

prompt: dan falls off his chair during a spooky week video and pulls out a ring and says “I’ve fallen in love and I can’t get up? Will you marry me?”

tw: none

genre: fluffy proposal

wc: 1.5k

a/n: prepare for fluff overload! Also I’m really crap at endings so sorry about that!


“Yes bear" 

Waking up next to the love of your life is one of the best feelings there is… especially if you know they will hopefully be your fiancé the next day. 

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My Favorite Cosplay Resources

Starting from head to toe!

  • Wigs - Personally I prefer Ebay. Wigs are cheap, buuuut you have to accept there’s a certain risk of not getting what you paid minimal money for. Still usually if you are wary you can go about with minimal mishaps. I like Ebay because of the price but also the variety. I’m terrible with wigs, so the closer at the start the wig is to the style/color I need the easier it is for me. So Arda for me isn’t really a good fit. (Though sometimes if the wig is really particular there’s nothing else than going with Arda.)

  • Contacts - Pinky Paradise. Hands down. Reliable, safe, and decently priced. Offers most of their contacts in a wide variety of prescriptions with no extra cost (which for me is super nice). They sort the contacts out in easy to find ways (by color, enlargement, etc) and most the contacts have real life customer pictures of themselves wearing the contacts so you really know what you are getting, not just some shopped photo of a lens over a stock eye shot.

  • Makeup - Honestly, I get most my makeup from Walmart. Cheap, wide variety. It helps that I don’t have sensitive skin. I can wear whatever and maybe have some small breakouts the next day. I also stop by CVS or Walgreens a lot, ton of variety and again cheap. Plus they are everywhere so if you realize you are out of concealer at the con you can usually pick up some at the local pharmacy in five minutes. For advances make up, like prosthetics, try any costume stores near you, like Party City or Halloween related seasonal shops. And of course the internet when you can’t find that one thing just the way you want it.

  • Fabric - Generally I go to Jo Anns and sometimes Hancock. These are what are local to me, and tend to have decent prices, okay selection, and for Jo Anns tons of sales and coupons. When I lived in Hawaii there were some local chains with amazing selection I liked more than these chains. (If you are in Oahu check out Kaimuki’s Dry Goods, small local store I used to really like.) So yeah poke around to see what’s around you! For especially hard to find fabric you unfortunately have to go online. It sucks and can be expensive. I like Amazon or Fabric.com but I’ve only done a little online fabric shopping so not my forte.

  • Supplies - This is a varied topic. Cause like Worbla, only available online. Paint? All over. Unfortunately I don’t have just a list I can tell you. Home Depo, Hobby Lobby, Ben Franklin, Michaels, Lowes, just try a balance of hardware and craft stores. And for the specialty stuff, like thermoplastics of course it’s the internet you go.

  • Shoes - Thrift shops. I love thrift shops. Goodwill, Salvation Army, whatever you have locally. There’s no guarentees unfortunately about the style and size but you’ll never get shoes cheaper. And since often I tear apart these shoes, paint them up, and otherwise mutilate them I feel a bit better about using these shoes which are already a step before the trashcan. To make things comfier you can put in inserts. If you can’t find something then internet is your best bet for the variety and low price.


  • Clothes - going to be cosplaying Shizuo and don’t really want to make a pair of black slacks? Who can blame you! So for simple clothing items you can head to my favorite, the thrift shop! Not only are you getting clothes for cheap but often also helping out different humane efforts (Like CHKD is a chain near me which is connected to a children’s hospital.) If you can’t find it in the thrift store gamble the more sure fire source is going to be Ebay! Again, used, cheap clothes. And some cheap new mass produced clothes. A little pricier with shipping and such but you can usually find low prices on basic things. Also even if it’s not a perfect match, wherever you got the clothes, keep an open mind to ability to edit the clothes into what you need.

So this is just a look into my shopping stops, I generally focus on lowering that price while trying to maintain quality. So if you are looking to do things without spending big bucks check these places out! Also for some tips on finding things on the internet, try a variety of search words, go through your big sites like Ebay and Amazon, but also Google Shopping. Annnd if you really are having trouble try Google Images then back track to the image source to what is possibly an online store. Not always but more often than not I’ve been able to find things like that!


10 ways in which Nico di Angelo falls in love (with a place, with a boy, and with himself).

For two very kind anons who asked for my interpretation of how Will and Nico got together!


Nico can’t really pinpoint the exact moment he decided to stay at Camp Half-Blood.

It was probably sometime during the battle with Gaea, he thinks. It was probably somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks, as the rest of him tried to adjust to the idea of the earth herself being an enemy.


Or maybe it was before that. Maybe it was the second he stumbled onto a field of grass, wearing a Hawaiian shirt that might very well have been one of the seven deadly sins, bearing a statue that smoldered inside his mind and felt older than time itself. Maybe it was the moment a camper with eyes the color of noontime took his hand, and didn’t flinch away.

(Nico thinks he’ll probably remember that for the rest of his life.)

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#005: eyes

01. seokjin

They tell stories stolen from a million scenes from places you’ve never been, and when he smiles, they speak to you in words that trace along your dreams and the first time you see them, the first time your eyes meet, they tell you that it’s meant to be. And you’ve never really believed in fate or fortune or that kind of thing but with him, looking into his eyes, you can’t help letting your walls fall down far enough for him to reach in, cup your heart between his hands, and kiss it like your heart was meant to be kissed. Meant to be kiss by him and no one else. He tells you that if he could pick one thing to look at for the rest of his life it would be your eyes, because through them, he sees a world more beautiful than anything he’s ever seen; he calls your eyes the looking glass to his dreams.

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anonymous asked:

Hi! I really like your comic and your style and I was wondering: do you have any tips for people like me who would like to make their own comics? I've tried before but I never seemed to reach the 5th page without giving up.

Hiya! I have a few tips. I’m not trained or anything these are just some of my personal methods. it might not even work for you since everyone is different but it might help? They’re not really in a particular order either haha. 

1.) Like what you’re making. This one is kind of obvious but really if you’re not completely invested in the story you’re making it’ll fall flat due to a lack of interest. Make your comic about things you like! Not like fleeting things like actual things you’ve enjoyed for awhile generally. Like spooky things, or cute things for example.

2.) Make alot of rough drafts. All at once. Flesh out an entire chapter really roughly. I mean real rough. like gesture drawing rough that takes like fifteen minutes or less a page. I’ll make about seventeen rough draft pages at once, simmer about it for a few days, and then go back to add more if im satisfied OR i’ll redo the chapter entirely. If you have a whole chapter roughed out it’ll be easier to work on it later because its already there for you. 

3.)double back to check the pacing. Sometimes its weird in the rough drafts so you gotta throw some panels around or add an extra page. if it feels a bit off leave it and the come back a few hours or days later. youll find it out pretty quick after a break. 

4.)dont be afraid to fix mistakes. If something looks weird or clashes with the page when you’re still doing lineart, go back to the roughdraft layer and fix it. zoom in and out of the page and check to make sure the drawing isnt tilted oddly or disproportional. i myself have issues with proportion so im constantly fixing bits and pieces using cntrl+T haha. It’ll save you trouble if you do it early instead of later when all the layers are in the way. 

This next one is a little bit counterproductive to #4 but its for after the page is done.

5.) accept mistakes. You’re making alot of art for one page. you’ll notice looking back on finished pages that theres gonna be a lower quality over it bc of sheer quantity, but you’ll fall into a rhythm and realize you’re making a steady incline in quality overall if you keep moving forward. once you declare that a page is done, leave it.

6.) just do it. Youre gonna be afraid to start, wondering how its going to be received, wondering if its good enough. You have to shove the anxiety down as violently you can and draw it as if you’re your only audience. Do it for yourself, because you know that you’ll improve your skill and even yourself by making it. 

7.) keep your files organized. I label every page for recovery as RECOVERY and then a number–for example, RECOVERY2.17 is for recovery chapter two page seventeen. your files, if placed alphabetically, will all be in a row for an easy browse. keep it all in their own place for easy finding. 

8.) make a palette and references. Consistency is IMPORTANT. I drew Will a few times to get a feel for him before i started the comic, and used the eyedropper tool repeatedly so the colors were consistent in the comic. (I didn’t do the same for the pine twins and it shows if you go through the comic a bit fast lol) The palette doesnt have to be fancy, just make sure you know what everything is for. Also make sure you know your kerning and leading settings so the panels are consistent as well.  (mine is below!) make a checklist if you need to for the math stuff, i use the stickies app on my laptop for a checklist of things to make sure to add before i say im done–like shading, for example, that for some reason i always forget. Also the font type, gen font size, details like tattoos and quirks. 

9.) HAVE FUN. Inject some humor into your drawing to keep yourself entertained when you work–for example, i label my layers in puns and quips. the skin layer is usually called “skiiiiiiiiin” and copies are usually called “___ 2: electric boogaloo”. when i made homestuck drawings id label them with a character quirk instead haha. Also its good to listen to podcasts or music when you work. I listen to music, The Adventure Zone, Welcome to Night Vale, Game Grumps or The Yogscast when i’m working. Audiobooks are also a good idea! Have it in a playlist so you dont have to stop drawing to change it.

10.) Don’t let yourself get distracted, but take breaks when you need them. Food and hydration as well as bathroom breaks are v important. You cant survive to draw if you dont eat, and keep in mind that being dehydrated gives you headaches and messes with workflow. eat that food. dont die. not eating messes with your psyche–youre more likely to be depressed/make it worse/stope working if you dont eat so do that shit. keep some snacks and a waterbottle handy. also lower the caffeine shakes are good for some styles but not others lmfao. 

also: avoid tumblr when working. give yourself a set time/timelimit to work. you’ll realize that once you start its easier to keep rolling but you cant be interrupted or itll be harder to get back to in the middle when scrolling the many delightful distractions of the internet. be brisk in your breaks. 

11.) i have depression so this is especially important–REMEMBER TO TAKE YOUR MEDS IF YOU HAVE ANY.  p self explanatory. i go through withdrawals if i dont and get the worst migraines so i mean keep on top of that shit. 

12.)Uh hhhh thats all i got OH WAIT reward yourself for finishing pages. Be it a treat or a nice bubble bath or some videogame time. Whatever you want. just reward yourself for working. even if its work you weren’t entirely satisfied with, have something to look forward to when you finish, and tell yourself you did well because you just did a fuckton of work. BE PROUD <3

(also some people say to tell other people about what youre doing so theyll check up on you to make sure youre working but?? i kind of feel like im being nagged if thats the case so that just depends on you lol. )

zerlibat  asked:

Hello Miss Ebb, for many years I've been questioning how you make your hair so flawless. You never seem to have a bad hair day! My jealousy is that of greatness and I was wondering if you'd be so kind as to maybe reveal some of your mystical space hair secrets? Thank you and safe zooming!

Greetings, fellow traveler!  For someone with heavily color-treated and frequently heated hair like mine, styling products are a must for getting and keeping desired texture, taming flyaways, adding a little extra shine, and keeping frizzy tips in check. My favorites:

  • Enjoy deep-conditioning hair mask is awesome
  • Batiste dry shampoos for non-dye-stripping refreshing between shampoos
  • Persephone’s Legacy line of styling products (and not because I design their packaging). I legitimately use the 1955 pomade and 2234 wax almost every time I leave the house/have my photo taken
  • Aveda anti-humectant pomade is great for humid climates
  • Garnier shine spray is cheap and gets the job done

Even armed with all of the above let me assure you: I have bad hair days like everyone else, I just avoid cameras when it happens. Usually.

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Here is my number one go-to remedy for when my mane decides to misbehave, I hope you find it of some use: oil masks! Once a month if at all possible. I’ve used Jojoba oil, coconut oil, almond oil and even olive oil for this and all do good work.

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Jojoba oil also helps with fungal issues and olive is good for extra moisture and dandruff, but coconut oil is king for replenishing protein. Right now I get mine at the local Asian market, but coconut oil can be found in the baking section of many grocery stores.

This will get messy, so put on something you don’t mind trashing, or, better yet, get naked! When not near open fire, of course.

Wet your hair with hot water and then towel-turban it.

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While the towel sucks up extra moisture, boil two cups of water on the stove.

Turn down the heat to low, put your oils of choice into a lab glass container and leave that in the water for 5 minutes or so. The oil should be very warm but not hot and certainly not boiling.

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Get it all up into your (damp, not wet) hair and scalp.

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When that’s done, wrap it up in a shower cap, then a towel over that and let it sit for about 20 minutes. You could apply some moderate heat over the towel for extra umph, or let your scalp’s own heat do the work.

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This is messy business, so take advantage of all the drips to moisturise your face, neck, arms, butt, and whatever else you want. (In general, all these oils are magic. I put them into my bath water and slather them on after showers, too.)

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Shampoo and style as usual and be amazed at the shiny, healthy, fluffy results! I let my hair air dry whenever I have the time for extra-health.

A quick alternative that’ll get you some decent results is to get your hair nice and wet in the shower, then squeeze out the water and plop some oil on there for 5 minutes before shampooing as usual.


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ghost-of-erica-reyes  asked:

Hi there!! I've been studying a lot of Victorian literature for school lately and now I'm dying for some Historical!Sterek, especially some set in the 1800s and above. Do you know of any new fics that could fall under that category? Or if you have another update idea for the historical aus tag and happen to have the time, I have the biggest craving ever for pre-contemporary Sterek!!! (P.S. regardless of whether you answer this or not I want to insist that this blog is the bomb and you rock!!!)


historical au | 1800s | 1900s 

Nothin’ but Blue Skies by Anonymous (6/6 | 22,733 | R)

Scott McCall, “Stiles” Stilinski, Vernon Boyd, Isaac Lahey, and Jackson Whittemore are the hot-shot pilots of the USAAF’s Flight Five, based out of southern England in the end of 1943. The tide is maybe starting to turn in the war, but there’s still so many battles left to fight, so many bombs to drop, so many missions to run.

Up-and-coming young photographer Derek Hale of Life Magazine is sent out to do his first war coverage: interviews with and photographs of the brave young men of Alpha Squadron, Flight Five. It’s supposed to be an easy assignment- snap some photos of the boys and their planes, and go home.

But when you’re in the heat of the moment, when you’re faced with life and death, who’s got your back? Who is in that moment with you? When you start to ask that question, it’s after that when nothing is easy again.

Thank You For This Dance by matildajones (5/? | 10,397 | PG13)

Derek picks up another glass of champagne, and that’s when he sees him. A man stands at the edge of the room, chewing his lip and staring at the dance floor longingly.

Every person walks past him. Derek must have done it a hundred times this evening.

Derek is not one for dancing, but at a ball he meets Stiles, an orphan, and he becomes quickly attached. He does not care what other people think about Stiles’ wealth and status, but it’s a lot harder for Stiles to ignore the comments that have haunted him his whole life.

It’s even harder to convince Stiles that Derek’s feelings are genuine.

Propriety is a Hassle by literaryoblivion (1/1 | 1,367 | PG13)

The room is crowded, filled with women in laced corsets and big poofy hoop skirts covered in yards and yards of brightly colored fabrics, men in high-waisted trousers, tight vests, coats with tails, and silky cravats that choked. There is a small string quartet playing music in the corner, but other than hearing it amidst the gaps in conversation, no one pays it any mind. Waiters in bow-ties walk around with glasses of champagne and trays of h’orderves that upon closer inspection are rubbish.

It is all a bit much for Stiles.

Not that he can say anything about it, though. He is here for a reason, and that reason is standing along the back wall brooding in his dark brown overcoat, white fluffy cravat, and incredibly tight pants.

A Gentleman’s Secret by DLanaDHZ (1/1 | 15,232 | PG13)

Stiles Stilinski has lived 19 years without revealing his secret. He’s a fine gentleman, a stellar horseman, and a sassy addition to any conversation, but he keeps his true feelings to himself. When the Hale family moves into the county, the Stilinski’s throw a ball in their honor and Stiles in swept up into the gravity of the eldest son. Propriety tells him to keep his distance, but can he ignore the urges pulling them ever closer? At first sight, Stiles is already undone.

Fury by SephrinaRose (3/3 | 14,984 | PG13)


Stiles had always pondered the word.

He’d never known it as a child. All he’d ever known was his mother tucking him into bed, his father playing with him on the farm under the warm Californian sun.

He’d never known anger or angst. Never known fury.

But then the war came for USA, and Stiles was uprooted and pushed along in the flow. Unaware and frightened, into enemy territory with only his ability to type sixty words a minute.

Then he was introduced to Fury.

(This story is safe ground for all. There is no discrimination or blame placed on neither German or Jewish. This was not your fault, nor did anyone deserve it.)

Twist tied at the feet by ElisAttack (½ | 11,642 | R)

“Just as the Romans salted the earth of Carthage, they will beat you down, stretch you thin, force you kill your brothers for sport. Even then, you cannot raise a hand against your Dominus. Such is the life of the gladiator.”

Or the one where Derek is a disgraced Roman citizen, enslaved after a grievous betrayal.

Nec Spe Nec Metu (or: the story of two boys in love) by OLTRX (1/1 | 13,063 | NC17)

They were still lying there together when the first crackle of thunder came, and the first few drops of rain jetting through the giant gap in Derek’s ceiling. Stiles watched him curse, and run to grab what looked like a fractured door from the corner of the room, before angling it up and fitting it in a very makeshift way into the hole.
Stiles, now fully clothed, made his way over, and stood with the now drenched-Derek under the leakage. A few drops of water landed on his forehead, and he rubbed them around.
“That’s a good look on you,” Stiles said, and it was– wet shirt clinging to Derek’s muscular chest. Derek rolled his eyes, and drew him in for another kiss.

Historical AU. Derek is a painter, Stiles is a prostitute, together they’re one of the most troubled couples in history.

The Price of Life

I did it again… another street!Michael story.  Inspired by another headcanon found on yetiokay’s blog.  This one was - “So, Michael is super hungry one day and is just munching through the fridge and one of the guys makes the comment that he is eating them out of house and home. He gets self conscious and stops eating because "he doesn’t want to make them spend any more money than they already have.” The guys don’t really notice until he passes out and they confront him about it. He tells them that he is used to passing out because of lack of food and they all start watching him and keeping track of what he eats.“  I hope you enjoy it!

Keep reading

as promised~

It’s not that Alec doesn’t like Magnus’ makeup and ever-changing hair and amazing sense of style. He does. Magnus is so hot that he’s practically on fire, and he clearly takes a great deal of pride in his appearance. Even when they need him on short notice, he somehow manages to look more refined and fashionable than Alec has ever been on his best day.

So Alec has to admit that he’s just flat out fascinated when Magnus emerges from the shower, completely sans makeup, hair damp and limp around his face, wearing nothing but a bathrobe. Of course, it’s a silk bathrobe, or actually Alec thinks it’s a silk kimono, but it’s still the most casual that he’s ever seen Magnus. He wonders if it’s rude to be grateful that the demon they fought got Magnus all slimy and disgusting, thus necessitating the shower.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were staying,” Magnus says, but he doesn’t seem self-conscious about his appearance. Quite the opposite; he heads towards the bar and says, “Drink?”

“Yeah, uh, maybe just one.” Alec watches him go, tries not to watch the shift of his back and his ass under the robe. “Sorry if I startled you.”

“Not at all. I’m glad you stayed.” Magnus turns with two little glasses and hands one to Alec.

Before he can think better of the idea, Alec asks, “Why do you wear all that stuff all the time?”

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anonymous asked:

another prompt (literally within the week i've prompted you twice already but your writing is so good and yeah): eggsy knits in his down time (even at times when he shouldn't - cough cough briefings) and though some of the kingsman agents make fun of him at first, he slowly infects kingsman until everyone knits - roxy picks it up well for a beginner, merlin of course already knew how to knit beforehand and is crazy good at it, and harry's not-so-surprisingly awful (sorry for the long prompt)

aw you’re so sweet! lol i just got a link to a cool channel for how-to-knit courtesy of holyfudgemonkeys so i’m all pumped up for knitting~ this is going to be relatively plot-less, normally i have something in mind but i have a couple of snippets that I’m thinking of and no plot so i’m just gonna do that


“Kay. There’s a time and place for everything.” Merlin pinches the bridge of his nose. “Can you please put that mess of yarn away?” 

“Mum’s birthday is comin’ up, bruv. I gotta get this finished and you keep sendin’ me on missions where the plane rides ain’t long enough for me to get any of it done,” He whines. “C’mon, I swear I’m payin’ attention.” 

Keep reading

353. Butterflies...
  • Louis: ...fill your stomach as you pace back and forth, the white, lacy dress clutched between your hands. Thirty minutes ago Louis arrived at the church. 20 minutes ago you arrived at the church and now in two minutes, you'll be walking down the isle. Coming face to face with the boy you have fallen head over heels for and becoming Mrs. Louis Tomlinson. "Are you nervous" One of your bridesmaids ask. You nod. "I've got butterflies in my stomach" you respond and she giggles. And as the doors open after all bridesmaids have gone through, the butterflies dissipate and all you can do is smile at the thought of Louis becoming your forever in less than fifteen minutes.
  • Liam: ...the symbol of change. Change is good. Change is what keeps the world revolving. People make changes everyday. They change their clothes, they change their hair, last name. You're changing your address. Liam had cautiously asked you a month ago to move in with him. Your flat was dingy and kind of hopeless and Liam's was beautiful but empty. You've accepted his offer, but your nervous. You're not one to change or to do things out of the norm. But you're thinking it's time to spread your wings and open up to new ideas. Like a butterfly. You clutch the box in your hand and bring it with you as you enter the new flat. Liam grins and helps with the box. "Welcome home:
  • Niall: ...not exactly butterflies, more like butterfly kisses. Butterfly kisses are shared in messy king sized beds, in kitchens during late night snacking, around family and on car rides. They're done in private or in front of thousands. The small gesture from Niall to affirm that he's here and he loves you more than life itself. He can't always be major pda with all the cameras so this is all he can truly provide. Niall never will admit to doing it, especially since the boys have picked on him before for being too loving towards you, but the boys have noticed. They've said it's a shot to their masculinity, but Niall could care less. All he wants is to show his affection. Even if he's showing it but fluttering his eyelashes onto your cheek, or your neck.
  • Harry: ... Just one. A large one. Smack down in the middle of his stomach. An intricate pattern that has you enticed the moment you see it. The tattoo that hasn't got a specific meaning to it, It was done because Harry liked it, yet it holds special meanings to you. It's where you can rest your head during movie nights and what you fall asleep on when you're cuddled on top of him. It's what you trace with your tongue during a sensual moment and what you trace with your finger after a time of pleasure. The butterfly on his stomach as captured more tears, more kisses and has seen so much love between the two of you than anyone has ever witnessed. Although it might seem stupid to others, to you it's you're favorite thing in the world.
  • Zayn: ... fly around the two of you as you walk through the butterfly garden. Intricate colors and designs cover every one of them, not one the same. Just like humans. You're eyes are filled with awe as one lands on your hand and flutters it's wings. Zayn smiles at it, taking in it's beauty. It's rare that the two of you could do something like this, like Zayn would want to walk through a butterfly garden, yet here the two of you are and Zayn is more than pleased. The butterfly offers strength and support. They're there to lead you through tough times and even though you and Zayn are not going through any harsh conditions, the two of you keep it in mind, promising to come back to watch the soothing insects flutter around the room if anything were to happen.
  • Honestly i did this for Louis's and Harry's... ~AlliXx

cantfakethecake  asked:

Ooh, how about...Fenhawke, A?

A. Fire, flames, or excessive heat.

In which Fenris watches Hawke, and learns a great deal about himself as well as her. 

(warnings for references to past-Danarius- and current-templar-related abuse (nothing graphic))


Hawke wears her magic like a peacock wears its feathers. Someone watching from the outside may think her proud, but birds are not proud, and Hawke is not either.

As he promised, Fenris watches her closely in those first weeks – a task made almost pleasurable by how easy it is to follow Hawke with his gaze, whether he watches her hands shuffling worn cards or strands of hair falling loose from her braids.

She is a beautiful woman, with delicate wrists and skin that smells always of milk and honey, and like too many beautiful things, she is dangerous. A refugee clawing her way through Kirkwall’s filthy streets, a mercenary, and an unrepentant mage – but she helped him, without a moment’s hesitation, though her brother growled the whole way back to Hightown.

He realizes too late that watching her has become a habit, but when she appears at his door to ask for his help in taking out a nest of bandits on the coast, he cannot say no.


Worse, he does not want to.

Keep reading

Inspired by Menswear by The 1975.


‘Well I only bought 3, what you looking at me for?’

“Weddings sucks,” you mutter under your breath for the twentieth time during the reception. Apparently that was the straw that broke the camel’s back and your mother immediately sends you outside, claiming you’re ruining your sister’s wedding. You sigh with relief when you exit the reception full of too many people pretending to know and like each other. Things like this make you sick. “Now, what did an innocent little thing like you do to get yourself kicked out of your own sister’s wedding?” You turn your head to see Ashton, the son of your parents’ best friends, leaning against the wall not too far away from you. Your parents never left you alone together anymore, claiming he was just trouble now. But trouble looks so good in black skinny jeans with tattooed arms and a joint between his fingers. “Hey, Ash,” you mumble, dropping your eyes from him. “Want one?” he asks you. “Or are you still too good for me?” You glare at him, finding him much closer to you now than he was before. “I never said that,” you accuse. “You didn’t, but your parents did and you listened,” he replies. “Still their precious girl?” You pause as he stands in front of you, trapping you against the wall with hands on either side of your head, removing one occasionally to bring the joint to his lips. “I hate weddings,” you reply. He chuckles before taking a long drag. He leans in close to you before breathing out across your parted lips. You resist the urge to cough and you can tell he’s proud. “That’s my girl,” he says before crashing his lips to yours. This was what kissing was supposed to feel like, not whatever the good guys your parents wanted you to date did. Five seconds of his lips on yours and you want more of him. He must have felt the same thing because he drops the spliff in favor of having his hands on you, tracing your curves, memorizing you with his fingertips. “I want this dress gone,” he growls in your ear. “You’re going to have to share more if you want that,” you sing softly. He groans and says, “I only brought three and that was my third.” You sigh and say, “I guess you’re going to have to be really good, aren’t you?” He chuckles before he bites down on the soft skin of your neck. You gasp in surprise, but his lips are already off your neck a second later. “Don’t worry. I’m going to make you scream my name all night,” he says before crashing his lips back to yours.


'Free bar, that’s the point. Spilling amaretto cause of previous joints. I’m sitting with a girl, fortunate placing.’

You glance over at the place card next to you, reading the unfamiliar name for the fifth time: Calum Hood. He must be a friend of the groom because you don’t know him. Your thoughts are drawn away from your absent table neighbor and back to your mother, who is already trying to ask you about your wedding. You’re still trying to finish high school and your mother has already moved onto your wedding, which, if you have your way, won’t happen for another decade. When you mom finally leaves to find the bride, you sigh with relief, bending over to place your head on the table. A short laugh coupled with the sound of a glass being placed on the table to your left makes you lift your head. You clench your jaw to keep it from dropping. He’s your age and everything your mother hates, which makes him exactly what you love. You can smell the faint smoke clinging to his clothes and see the tattoo peaking out from under his rolled up sleeve, his jacket already shed onto the back of his chair. He sits down next to you, hand already reaching for the glass he sat down seconds early. He stops when his eyes find yours. “Well, hello there, beautiful,” he smiles. “You’re certainly not who I expected to be sitting next to all night.” You swallow before finding your voice again, trying to remain confident and calm, “You’re not exactly what I expected either, Mr. Hood.” So confident turned into flirty. Not the worst thing you’ve ever done. He smirks and says, “Oh, that’s how this evening is going to go, isn’t it, beautiful? And good on you for being able to read a place card.” You smirk back at him and say, “I can do a hell of a lot more than read a place card, not that you’ll ever know.” He takes a sip from his glass before adding, “I intend to find out tonight.” You laugh, your smirk turning into a small smile before you roll your eyes. “You don’t think so?” he asks with a small chuckle. “Definitely not,” you reply just as you hear your mother sit down next to you. “Oh, I see we have another person at the table,” your mother says, her voice slowing down significantly by the end of her sentence. You know she’s taken in Calum’s appearance and doesn’t like what she sees. “Do you want to go get a drink?” you ask Calum. He shrugs and says, “Whatever floats your boat, beautiful.” You sigh before standing up, not bothering to wait for him to follow you. You head straight over to the bar, asking for a glass of amaretto before you even sit down. “You should wait for me next time, beautiful,” Calum sings softly in your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spin. “Too many guys were staring at you.” You roll your eyes before thanking the bartender and knocking back a large amount of the glass. “I’m not yours, Calum. I don’t even know you,” you tell him. “Oh, but you are mine. At least, you will be tonight,” Calum replies, one of his hands finding it way to your waist. “Excited, beautiful?”


'Who’s he? Giving it the lips? I’ve never seen him knocking about.’

Being paraded around as your family’s evidence of success at your cousin’s wedding was killing you. Thankfully, you manage to sneak away from your parents for a bit among the crowd and get to the bar. You convince the bartender that you’ve had a bad enough day to deserve a beer. “I’ll take one as well.” You turn your head to look at the boy behind you and freeze. He looks down at you and smirks, his lip piercing catching your attention. “Well, look who the cat dragged in,” he laughs. “Nice to see your boobs finally came.” You rolled your eyes and shoved his chest, “Shut up, Hemmings. How have you been anyway?” Before Luke can respond, one of the other attendees cuts in and says, “He’s been drinking and smoking all night. I can tell you that much.” Luke’s jaw clenches tightly and he moves to get up, but you clasp a hand around his shoulder, keeping him seated. “Fuck off,” Luke snaps at the guy. “You’re a stupid kid. Get your life together,” he counters before walking off. Luke’s jaw is still tight as he turns to face you. “Why did you stop me?” Luke asks through closed teeth. “Because you were going to hit him and ruin the whole wedding. Come on. Let’s get you out of here,” you tell him. He nods, leaving his beer on the bar to follow you out. You get into the elevator and go to hit the button for the ground floor, but Luke stops you and presses one of the other floor. “Better idea,” he says. You realize when you get out of the elevator he’s leading you to his hotel room. You don’t have to think about it for too long before you follow him down the hallway. He doesn’t close the door behind both of you before his lips are on yours. He tastes like alcohol and Luke and you’re addicted instantly. He groans when you wrap your arms around his neck and slide your hands into his hair. His hands tug on the backs of your thighs gently, signally for you to jump. You do as he asks. “Still angry?” you ask as his lips move to your neck. “Shut up,” he groans before biting into your neck, hard. You gasp and he smirks against your skin before soothing the spot with his tongue. “Luke, that’s going to bruise like crazy,” you complain. “Good,” he says. “You’re not going to forget about this then.” You gasp again as he leaves another dark mark on your shoulder. “Luke, I can’t hide these from my mom and we have to go back to the wedding,” you say. His hands tighten around your thighs. He pulls back so his baby blues met yours. You get distracted by the piercing through his eyebrow, the ring through his lip, and the tattoo just peaking up onto his neck. “Oh, we’re not going to go back,” he tells you. “I want you to scream loud enough that the entire wedding party ten floors below us knows where you are.” You slide a hand into his hair and say, “I’m pretty sure that guy might be right when he said you were a stupid kid. I don’t think you can make me scream that loud, Luke.” He smirks and says, “Want to bet, babe?”


'Well who’s this? Going for the kiss.’

You knock back another shot, attempting to burn the story your aunt just told you involving her cat and kidney stones out of your mind. You decide you need another since you can still remember it a little too well. Family weddings. You couldn’t think of a worse place to spend a Saturday night. Alone to boot. “Well, well, well, look who it is.” You turn your head to see Michael standing there, his hair dyed an odd mix of colors that manage to work for him, tattoos peaking out from under the edge of his suit that he can’t quite pull off like skinny jeans. You’d never tell him he looks good though. “I see you finally chose to ditch that loser boyfriend of yours,” he comments. You roll your eyes and tell him, “If you wanted to make jokes about me getting dumped, you’re about six months late, Michael.” He smirks as he sits next to you. “I’m sure I could come up with something you haven’t heard yet,” he says before ordering a beer and sitting down next to you. “What are you doing?” you ask him. He shrugs and says, “Might take me a while to make an original comment. Better get started,” as his reply. You roll your eyes before shoving yourself up from the bar, telling him to piss off on your way out of the reception room through the back entrance, hoping no one sees you on your way. You lean against the wall outside the ballroom and breathe a sigh of a relief. Away from prying extended family members and odd family friends for the first time all night, that is, until Michael slides through the door. He spots you leaned against the wall and comes to stand next to you, beer still in hand. He offers it out to you. You surrender, taking the bottle from his tattooed hand. “Thanks,” you tell him after taking a long swig. “You look like you needed it,” he sighs. “Sorry about being a jerk back there.” You stare at him wide mouthed. He adds, “I’m not apologizing again. Take it or leave it.” You take a long sip from the bottle and decide to take his apology. “You know, you actually look pretty good tonight,” he tells you. “You clean up well.” You roll your eyes and scoff as your way of saying thank you. “I meant that,” he says. “You look good. I’d do you tonight. Want to go up to my room?” You turn your head to yell at him, but instead his lips meet yours. You start to shove him away until you realize just how good his lips feel against yours. You slide your hands into his hair instead. He puts the bottle down at some point, his hands finding your hips to pull you closer. He tastes like cheap beer, but his kisses make up for the bad taste in your mouth. You hear someone shout your name. You pull away from Michael and look around his shoulder to see your mother, a horrified expression on her face. “At your cousin’s wedding, really? And who the hell is he? Do you even know him?” she shouts. Michael raises an eyebrow at you and you flash him a helpless look. Your mother grabs your arm and starts to pull you back to the wedding, but Michael grabs your other arm, pulling you back for another kiss, his tongue obviously sliding into your mouth. Your mother yanks you away as you feel Michael press a piece of paper into your hand, probably with his phone number scrawled across it. “Call me later,” he says, “and maybe I’ll do you then.” You gape at him as he turns on his heels and walks off down the hallway, leaving you to deal with your extremely angry mother. You shake your head as she starts to whisper yell at you and drag you back to the wedding. Michael is definitely going to get you into all kinds of trouble, but you definitely don’t mind.

A/N: So this is lots of new things at one time. Had to do a different format to allow for italics font. I hope you all don’t mind. I’ve seen this format floating around and decided to do it this way. Also, I hope you like the song preference thing. I’m obsessed with The 1975, so this happened. I kind of had a hard time with this though because it’s so different from my normal stuff. Please tell me what you think, especially because this is really different. Love you bunches. - Kate

priderising  asked:

Hey hey, I've been struggling with my own writing lately so I'd love some fluffy Solavellan that may potentially border on nsfw *cough* Idk, maybe a Solas-getting-needlessly-jealous story and Lavellan finds it both funny (and teases him) and cute :3 Thank yooouuuuuuu <3

A/N: Dedicated to sennalavellan ! I’ve done a jealousy piece before, so this prompt was not so far from my own thoughts about Solas >:) For some much needed fluff and angst. Never done a nsfw, so I tried to do a borderline style…we’ll see how you like it :)

He really, truly tried not to get jealous.  

Solas liked to think that he was a somewhat calm, rational man. He often took the time to think about things before he made a decision, researching and weighing the pros and cons before acting.Rarely did his emotions take precedent over what mattered or what was important. And yet, the longer that he spent time with Lupa, the harder that was to manage. His own plans, his own agenda, was slowly unraveling bit by bit, piece by piece, all because of her. She touched him, and his heart began to pound. She smiled at him, a rare and fleeting smile, and he could feel his own lips turn up ever so slightly. When she kissed him, all impulse and reckless abandon, he was so overcome that he often acted before even bothering to think.

And whenever she spent time with Commander Cullen, his jealousy threatened to completely overwhelm him.

He could hear them on the ramparts, laughing and discussing his childhood. Whenever the weather was nice and the wind wasn’t so sharp, Solas would keep the door leaing outside wide open to allow the fresh air to filter out the smell of the roost up above. Most times, it was pleasant, everything cooling down in the rotunda, the smells from the market stalls of fresh fruit sharp and sweet. But as the sounds of the training yard mingled with the sounds of Lupa laughing at something that Cullen said, he found himself considerably irritable and cross as he blended two different colors together on the pallette.  

“I can’t believe you beat me so soundly at chess!” Cullen exclaimed. “Though, I grant you, my sister beat me at the game for years before I bested her.”

“I couldn’t let you win after you thrashed Dorian. I had to avenge his honor.” Her voice, low and sweet, was muffled by a hand as she laughed. He could notice things like that, he’d realized. Whenever she spoke, some part of him always took note of everything that she said, how she said it. It unnerved him, just how aware of her he always was. Don’t make attachments, indeed.

“Who taught you how to play?” Cullen asked, after clearing his throat.  

“My Keeper said that it was important. Not only should I be able to throw daggers and learn the properties of poisons, I should have a strength of mind, too. She said being clever was more imporant than being brutish.”  

“More often than not, that is entirely true.” He agreed, and Solas could hear the smile in his voice. Whether Lupa knew it or not, Cullen had a strong attachment to her. Knowing the commander though, he would not do anything unless prompted by Lupa. Thankfully, she seemed content enough to spend her time with Solas.  

Although sometimes he wondered…

No. She had made it clear that she cared about him. Out of the two of them, he was the least forward.  

“Commander! Corporal Ryker is badly injured, sir, but back from the field. He’s asking for you!” There was the clatter of armored feet, and the rattling of chainmail.  

“Ryker has returned? What is his injury status?”

“The healers say he’s got some internal bleeding, and a bad arrow wound in the gut, sir.”  

“Maker’s breath…I’ll be right there. Inquisitor.” Cullen’s heavy foottfalls closely followed behind one of his men, taking him down the stairs to hea to the medic clinic. Shortly after, he heard Lupa’s heading towards the rotunda. Towards him.

“Thought I’d find you here.” She said, walking up behind him. There was a brief pause, as if she was considering something, and then she leaned closer and kissed the back of his neck. Against his skin, he could feel the smile on her lips. Instead of it warming him, making him want to abandon all senses entirely though, it only made him irritable, cross.  

“This is generally where I study, yes.” He applied the paint to the wall carefully, studying the color of it against the splash of ocher he’d done the day before.

“One of Commander Cullen’s men came back with a report from the Western Approach. He sounds gravely wounded.”

“I am confidant that our healers will do all that they can to help him survive.” He said, tone somewhat curt despite himself. He glanced back at her when she didn’t reply, studied her expression. She looked taken-aback, unsure. After a fleeting moment, she nodded and crossed over to the couch, sitting down on it.

“You’re upset about something.” She said.

“Certainly not, I assure you.” He looked back to the wall and added another detail in the perfrectly blended color distractedly. And it wasn’t so much that he was upset. He knew such emotions were natural, had once felt them in an over-abundance from a time so long ago. But truly, he knew that it was irrational, silly. More often than not, jealousy was. But that didn’t make it any easier to shove the feelings deep, deep down.

“You do this thing with your eyebrows when you’re angry.” Lupa said informatively. “And your lips have this permanent pull downwards, even when you’re not talking.”

“You seem to study my behavior a great deal.”

“I do!” She replied cheerfully. “And that’s how I know you’re angry about something.” He sighed, slow and aggrieved. He did not want her to know that he was sometimes prone to such silly reactions. She had done nothing to warrant him being this way. More than likely, she would view him as weak, or as a suspicious man, and though he was certainly suspicious of many things, she was not one of them.

“It’s not imporant enough to discuss.” He said at last, gripping the paint brush tightly.  

“It is, though. That is what people do when they care about one another. They share.”

“You did help yourself liberally to my blankets last night.”

“No, you shared them.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her smile.

“That is one way of saying it, I suppose.”

“Solas, please tell me?” Her tone softened, her voice worrying over the consonants. She thought that it was some serious, disastrous issue that required immediate attention. What would she think when she knew the truth? He sighed once more, feeling the victim of her worry. It was strange, having someone care about him so much. He had long forgotten what that felt like, another being whose concern was his and his alone.

“It is truly not so important.”  

“Then it should be even easier to tell me what it is.” He looked over at her, her easy smile that she seemed to give only to him. She did not smile so easily with others. Sometimes, when she did smile around them, her hand would come up to hide the evidence, cover the fact. He wasn’t sure if she was self-conscious about her smile, or if she was just not used to showing so much emotion around so many.  When she did not stop smiling, he set down his pallette reluctantly and walked over, setting the paintbrush down to rinse later. As he sat down, she shifted closer to him, ever ready to listen and lend a shoulder.  

“…I suppose…that sometimes I become jealous.” The word sounded immature, silly in his mouth. He chewed it around sourly, looking away from her.  

There was a pause. She seemed to be soaking in his words, and when he didn’t continue, he saw her tilt her head.  

“…Jealous of what?” She asked, baffled. He grunted under his breath. Of course she wouldn’t know.

“When I hear the way some of the other men speak to you. You are quite close with them, and…” His voice trailed off. Ah, yes. It sounded just as stupid out loud as it did in his head.

“So you’re…jealous of me having friends?”  

“No! Of course not. I merely meant that sometimes…it seems as though some of the men may harbor… feelings of a nature with you that go beyond…” He faltered, shook his head. This was ridiculous. She would be angry with him, suspect him of being that sort of lover that didn’t want her having contact with anyone else. Which certainly wasn’t the case, but-

She surprised him when she began laughing.

“I…I fail to see what is so funny.” He said when she didn’t stop. He felt uncomfortable, prickly, and altogether not in a good mood. So when she threw her arms around him and kissed him square on the cheek, he was understandably confused.

“Oh, Solas…did Cullen regaling me of tales from his childhood upset you that much?” She asked, and to his utter shock and surprise, she was not angry…she was amused.  

“You are…not upset?” She began laughing harder, holding onto him tightly despite his mild annoyance. Was she making light of his feelings?

“No, no! Oh, Solas…that’s…that’s adorable.” She leaned up at and kissed him on the cheek again, her grin all forms of mischievous.  

“I am not adorable.” He muttered, shifting. He was many things…but adorable? No.  

“But it is! You’re so stoic sometimes, this blank-faced, somber elf…but it’s nice to know that you get jealous. It means you like me.” Her teasing, bright tone contradicted the words themselves, and his frown deepened.  

“Of course I care for you.” He said, looking at her. Her bright, captivating eyes bore into his, and her smile lessened, somewhat.  

“I know…but it is still nice to see it.” She let go of his shoulder, sliding her fingers along his collarbone and down his chest. “That beneath your scholarly exterior, there is a man that feels jealousy the way everyone else does.” Her gaze dropped to her hand that pressed lightly against his chest, feeling his heartbeat. He reached up and grabbed her hand, holding it gently. When she looked back up at him, he lifted her hand and pressed a deliberate kiss to her skin, smiling slightly.

“Then I will endeavor to show you my jealousy more often.” He joked, his heart picking up a step when she laughed, light and wonderful.

“Or…there are other things you could show me, too?” She suggested, her lips curling up into something not quite a grin. It was more of a Cheshire Cat smile, enticing and secretive. He opened his mouth, closed it. Started to protest, to give a million reasons why now was not the time. But when she grabbed his tunic once more and jerked him against her, her lips pressing to his insistantly, he was once again overcome with the most awful of emotions that took all form of sense away. With the door to the ramparts wide open, anyone able to waltz right in, he let go of her hand and tangled his fingers into her hair, kissing her fiercely.  

And when she pulled him down on top of her, shifting on the cushions to get comfortable, he didn’t hesitate. She was his. How could he be jealous of anyone else when she looked up at him with eyes half-lidded, pupils dilated? He leaned down and pressed a hungry kiss to her mouth, sliding his hands down her sides to grip her waist. Her hands slipped beneath his tunic, slid over his bare skin lightly, teasingly. Slowly, gently, he kissed her lips, her cheek, her chin, her jaw. As he worked his way down her neck, she let out a breathy laugh, pressing her neck closer.

“Besides,” she said quietly, sliding her arms around him to trace his back, “I highly doubt that Cullen could kiss like that.”

Solas lifted his head sharply, stared down at her. Before he could say anything, she cracked a grin and began laughing, throwing her head back.

“Oh, the look on your face!” She crowed, holding onto him tighter. He grunted, slid his hand up to cradle her face.

“You will take entirely too much joy out of this, I think.” He said disapprovingly.  

“That’s a promise.” She replied, still smiling.