it's only doing it with the skin tones

Got This Sin in Her Brain [Jerome Valeska x Reader]

Author’s Note: I would greet y’all a Happy Valentine’s Day since this is a Valentine’s Day fic, but… it’s not Valentine’s Day anymore lol. I did start writing it the day of, to be fair, but it took a while since I haven’t written prose lately (more poetry, for class) and by the time I finished it was past 1! Hope this is okay. I was liking it when I first started but as I gradually got more tired I wasn’t sure if what I wrote was even good haha.

Word Count: 2,417

Keep reading

Atheist

Pairing: ReaderXReid

Inspiration: a photo I found that says “I was atheist until I realized I am God.” and the picture just inspired me completely.

Prompt: You have been taken by an unsub who believes he is God. Reid and the rest of the team burst into the unsub’s apartment just in time to stop him from killing you and turning you into one of his ‘angels’

Warnings: a little bit of religious talk (I identify myself as an agnostic so I really am not good at writing about religion so I’m very sorry if in some way I offend you if you are a religious person, I do not mean to and apologize if you do take offense to anything), violence, swearing

You gasped for air as your eyes shot back open, only to see the same dim lit room they had seen before you had passed out from the intense pain in your ribs and wrist. You knew at least two ribs had to be cracked from when the unsub kicked you during your first escape attempt, and you knew your wrist was most likely damaged too from when the unsub had twisted it violently during your second escape attempt. 

You glanced down at your wrist, the skin around the bone swollen to almost double its size, your flesh taking on a deep purple tone. Definitely broken.

You looked around for anything you could use as a make-shift cast, knowing the more you let your hand flop around the more damage would be done to that broken bone. You had very little medical training, considering you had only been in med-school for a year before dropping out and joining the Behavioral Analysis Unit, however you knew exactly what to do the moment you saw the wooden ruler on the small desk that sat in the corner of the room that you had been trapped inside for almost a day now. 

You stood up weakly and made your way over to the desk, knowing the unsub was no where in the room from the lack of teasing you heard when you awoke. You had passed out five times since he first captured you, three of the times when you came to he had been sitting in the room, watching you. Once he noticed you were conscious he would chuckle and ask you what it felt like to have God doing this to you or if you wanted to beg him for divine mercy. 

You leaned on the desk with your good hand, letting your body balance itself before you let go and grabbed the ruler, putting it under neath your damaged forearm. You then grabbed a long piece of string that was also laying on the desk, wrapping it up and down your arm tightly until the ruler stayed in place without anything supporting it. That was the best you could do.

“Well, well, well, look whose up and on her feet.” his voice spoke from behind you. You whipped around only to see him standing in the doorway, a sick smile on his face. “Ready to beg for mercy?” he questioned, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. 

You just stared, not giving him the pleasure of your broken voice answering. You knew if you tried to say anything he would hear the fear in your voice and that was exactly what he wanted.

“Do you believe in God?” he asked, walking slowly towards you, dragging his hand along the top of his dingy dining table. His eyes were glued to you as if simple eye contact alone was feeding his craziness. 

You still didn’t answer his question, only swallowed hard as he took his hand off the table, continuing to walk towards you.

“I was an atheist once.” he spoke in a low voice. He came to a sudden stop, his body now only a foot away from you. “Until I realized I am God.”

As if on queue, you heard the door he had entered through moments before be kicked in causing him to grab you and pull your body in front of his, a knife he had been hiding in his belt now being raised up to your neck. You watched as the room filled with the familiar faces of the BAU as well as a few members of SWAT. 

“Get out!” you heard the unsub bark, his voice almost breaking your ear drum while you felt his breath become faster against your neck.

Originally posted by toyboxboy

“Jackson, put the knife down, you don’t want to do this.” the voice of Spencer filled your ears, causing your eyes to dart to his face the moment you heard them. You almost started sobbing just from seeing his face, the face you never thought you would see again.

“Of course I want to do this, she must become one of my angels.” he spat, the blade now pressing against your neck causing you to squint your eyes shut. “She’ll be my favorite little angel.” he said, his voice lowering slightly as you could tell he moved his head to look at you.

“Jackson, (Y/N) is already an angel.” you heard Reid say, causing you to open your eyes slightly, the tears blurring your vision. “She’s one of the few angels that God sent down to Earth to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves.”

“I am God!” he shouted, pressing the blade even harder into your neck. You could feel a small stream of blood begin to trickle down your neck as the blade nicked you ever so slightly. 

“Exactly, which is why you know it’s important that (Y/N) stays here on Earth. You know what she’s done for people, you know how kind hearted and amazing she is.” Reid continued, his voice staying calm in the escalating situation. “She’s helped save so many people Jackson, she’s helped save me.” 

You felt the unsubs pressure on the knife loosen slightly as you remembered all the nights Spencer had spent at your apartment after Prentis’s ‘death’. All the mornings that you would wake up and make breakfast for him and ask him what his plans for the day would be. You and Spencer had always shared a close bond, one that could not be replaced or broken. Little did either of you know that the feelings you had towards one another was love.

“Please, don’t take her away from me.” Spencer pleaded, breaking you away from your train of thought. 

You swallowed hard, glancing down just in time to see the glint of the blade catching the dim light as it was brought away from your neck. You felt Jackson step away from you, then you heard him drop to his knees, then you saw the SWAT team and several members of the BAU move in towards him. 

You brought your none broken hand up to your face, wiping away the warm tears that were finally falling only to suddenly feel arms wrapped around you and your face being pressed against a bullet proof FBI vest.

“You’re safe.” you heard Spencer’s voice whisper while he brought one of his hands up to the back of your head, the other staying around your waist. 

Your head fit perfectly under his chin. You felt him gently kiss the top of your head before squeezing you even tighter, hearing the footsteps of Jackson and the SWAT team walk by. 

“You’re safe.” he repeated once again, his grip on you not loosening until he knew Jackson was half way down the hall.

Yeah I’m getting really tired of hearing tattoo artists praise white skin and act like dark skin is some horrible chore.  People of color have been tattooing their skin for a millennia but modern tattoo artists act like doing brown people is equivalent to puling teeth.  If you’re the best of the best than you should be able to do any skin tone, using whiteness as a crutch and blaming brown people for existing just means you’re a limited artist.  If they were honest and said, “Yeah I have only worked on pale skin and I might struggle with translating that to dark skin” then it would be fine but they always frame it as if its the fault of the dark skinned person. 

If a dark skinned person said, “Sorry I only know how to work on dark skinned canvases” people would give them so much crap.  But if someone says, “I only work on pale skin” its an industry standard. 

hoe tip

contouring. this one is for my brown girls. i say start with a cream contour. i like the sticks by tarte, and think they have very good shades for all the pocs. very nice shadow shades that will actually show up on skin. i like to start right at the edge of my face  near my cheek bone and center most of my product there in an isosceles triangle shape and use a moist beauty blender to blend the color out and down. always start with less product and build up. then i recommend  going in with a powder to set the cream. The one i own is laguna by nars, but i would only remind this for light skinned pocs as a setting powder. its is a light cooler toned bronzer. for beginners i would not recommend starting with just a powder contour, i think its harder. be sure you have the right brushes and know what your doing. prosper my hoes, prosper.

anonymous asked:

do you ever make palettes out of pictures of people?

i only have a few, but id really love to do more! i love working with skin tones, its really beautiful

I’ll bring you back- Mike imagine

Originally posted by infernal-banshee

Request: Anonymous said:

Could you do an imagine where Mike comes to see you for the first time since the doll house? Thanks. Love your imagines!!

Words: 891

A/N: it’s been a while, but it’s the holidays so I’m making the most out of my free time!

The clean, white colours that coated the hospital walls were a nice change from the pretend bedroom walls inside the dollhouse, mimicking the place you called home. The heating was much better than the cold bunker, meaning you didn’t spend every minute of the day shivering to gain more warmth. You had been in hospital for a few days, your body recovering from the malnourishment you had suffered. You made it out to the doctors that you felt worse than you actually did, in reality, you were physically recovered. Mentally was a different story. Your mind was still trapped in the dollhouse, still replaying every hellish day you spent down there. Replaying all the horrible things that monster made you do to your friends. And going home was the last thing you wanted to do, seeing the same bedroom again was too much to handle.

Half of it was a blur. Part of you was relieved the other part was terrified. Terrified of what your mind had suppressed. Terrified of what you might have done to someone else, and terrified of what someone else might have done to you. You longed for normality.

The liars had come to visit, and your parents were with you constantly, but it wasn’t quite enough to feel like you had actually made it out of the dollhouse. It was as if the game was never going to end, the pain just prolonged throughout your life.

“Are you ok there y/n?” aria asked from the doorway, dressed in her normal clothes again.

“I’m just thinking” you replied, your voice distant, having to slowly bring yourself back into the room. “I see you aren’t wearing the hospital gown anymore, I have to say, your own clothes suit you better.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

As a person of color who regularly has to deal with news about people with my skin tone being shot and the people who do it getting away with it, I take major offense to the TCC, especially Dylann Roof fans. It's like they're willing to excuse all the racially charged motivations of these people because they want to make their interest seem dark and gritty and cool and treat these legit psychopaths like they're poor and innocent for their own sake and idiotic aesthetic purposes.

yeah and its like “well if he didnt do that then [insert some sort of bs here]!” like sucks bitch! he did do that and you cant just ignore it! we can play the what if game all day that doesnt change the fact that he did shoot up a church and was a fucking racist! you dont get to just forgo for the sake of your aesthetic

acroardent  asked:

ML prompt if you're still taking them :) - When Marinette offered to help her parents cater the Agreste fashion show, somehow this was not what she expected to be doing.

Marinette was fairly sure that she must had fallen asleep. Perhaps she had been knocked unconscious? Either way she most certainly must be dreaming. 

There was no way she was actually running through the halls, her hand tightly clenched in Adrien’s, as they wove their way through the crowds. 

“Adrien, where are we going?” She called, finally finding her voice for the first time since the moment he burst into the kitchen, where she was helping her parents unload the last of the catered desserts, and dragged her off with a rushed “I need your help.” 

“We’re almost there,” he replied in lieu of an actual answer, pulling open a final door and sweeping her into a giant room where dozens of models and make up artists were flittering around in the midst of final preparations for the evenings fashion show. 

“Father!” Adrien called, raising his hand for attention and walking towards yet another door leading in to a smaller connected room the back corner where Gabriel Agreste was in deep conversation with Nathalie and a group of nervous looking employees. 

Gabriel looked up at his son’s cry and waived them over. 

“You know what to do, just see too it that everything is taken care of.” He said calmly handing a clip board to his assistant who nodded and hurried off. “Adrien?” 

“This is the girl I told you about.” Adrien said, putting a reassuring hand on Marinette’s shoulder. 

She stopped breathing as she felt Gabriel Agreste, THE Gabriel Agreste give her an assessing once over.

“Ah, Miss Dupain-Cheng I believe. Yes, I believe she will do nicely, thank you Adrien.” 

Adrien beamed up at his father and gave Marinette and excited squeeze, clearly unperturbed by the fact that he still hadn’t explained to her what was going on!

“I’ve put Bastian and Elise in charge. Make sure that everything is staying up to standards and send Tanya back here.”

“Of course father.” Adrien nodded and then turned and walked back out to the main room the rest of the employees trailing quickly after, the door closing behind them with a soft click. 

Marinette stared at the door, the busy sounds of preparations had been muted to a persistent drone, and she could hear the heavy thudding of her heart as she stood with baited breath. 

“I suppose you must be wondering why you are hear?” Gabriel said cooly. 

Marinette turned to face him and nodded, not trusting herself to speak. 

“There has been a bit of a complication,” he began walking over to a dress rack that she had not previously noticed and pulling down a large garment bag. “It seems another one of the designers has taken it upon themselves to copy one of my designs and we did not find out until this afternoon. As our line is to be the last one showcased at the event you can see where this is a problem.” 

“It will make your design seem like the copy, or at least unoriginal.”

“Precisely.” 

“But surely they can’t just get away with something like that? I mean I am sure there are ways to prove that it is your design. You can’t just run around stealing other people’s work!” 

Gabriel smirked. “I think you will find that they can and they do. In fact if I remember correctly you have already been on the receiving end of such behavior.” 

“Well yes but that’s just because Chloe is awful.” Marinette blurted before clamping a hand over her mouth. This was not the time for petty rivalries. 

Gabriel snorted in amusement. “There are a lot of awful things in the world Miss Dupain-Cheng including Miss Bourgeois. Don’t look so astonished, I am well aware of the fact that the lady is question rarely treats her peers with the same courtesy or affection which she bestows upon Adrien.” He carried the garment bag over to the table and began carefully opening the protective layers. “And while you are not wrong about there being ways to fight back in such circumstances, it will not change the state of things at the moment. And as you know in fashion appearance is everything.” 

“You could always pull the piece.” Marinette said, hoping that she wasn’t grossly overstepping her bounds by making such a suggestion to someone whom she could only dream of someday rivaling in terms of creative success. “None of your lines have ever been themed in such a way that the loss would ruin the collection. Plus it would send a message to the thief that you are on to him.” 

“A bold strategy,” Gabriel’s smirk widened slightly, “but I am a little better prepared then that.” 

“You brought a back up piece?” 

“Always.” Gabriel pulled out a stunning floor length gown of shimmering blue and green fabric. Marinette gasped as she gazed longingly at the intricate beadwork that adorned the bodice and the delicate silver and gold embroidery trailing down into the into the layers of the skirt. “It doesn’t match the rest of the collection, but if one is going to send a message I have always believed one should do it is style.” 

“It’s stunning,” Marinette breathed, “but…” she hesitated. 

“Yes?” 

“But its a fitted gown, you are going to have to alter everything to the model, perhaps even sew her into the dress to get the right draping.” 

“I am glad to see that my son’s faith in you was not misplaced.” Gabriel said a hint of amusement in his tone. 

There was a soft knock at the door. 

“Come in Tanya.” Gabriel called, and a beautiful dark skinned girl hurried inside. 

“You are indeed right Miss Dupain-Cheng. There is quite a lot of work to do and only a limited amount of time, and the rest of the design team needs to be focused on getting the remaining parts of the collection fit for the showcase.” He gave her a conspiratorial smile. “Which is why I find myself in need of an assistant.” 

Edit:  If you want to see this or one of my other drabbles turned into a full length fic you can vote for it on my Ao3 link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8914789/chapters/20421238 just follow the instructions in the notes ^_^

Luis’ (aka muji-milk) Art Tips!

i often get asked for tips on watercolour painting and portraiture drawing and things so i decided to make one pretty extensive advice post :^) hope this helps, and it will be tagged ‘art tips’ if you need to find it again. you can ask me if there’s something else you don’t find on here/to elaborate on something if you need!

Keep reading

You're a virgin (Luke)*

MASTERLIST

A/N:

Based on this request: Can u do an imagine where it’s bad boy luke who’s done countless things and ur the good girl and you’ve been with him for a while and you want him to b ur first time but he loves ur innocence and feels he’s not good eneough but you convince him he is”

Yes, thank you for requesting x hope you like this

You and Luke have been dating for almost half a year now, you’re in your last year of high school and Luke is a couple of years older than you. He works at a music store down town, he used to be in the drug dealing business but when he started seeing you, he quit. You know that Luke’s past isn’t pretty, you’d never tell your parents or your friends about it, especially since they’re already not that fond of your boyfriend. The don’t need to know everything, and you have a feeling that they’d prefer not to know. You want to believe that Luke has changed though, since he met you, you want to believe that you changed him for the better. You remember, years ago, seeing him and his mates walking down the corridors looking like they owned the place, he didn’t even know you existed back then. 

Luke is always very protective over you, which you think is extremely sweet but when the jealousy gets over hand his mood changes into the worse and whoever you were talking to, that he thought stood too close to you, would probably walk away with a bloody nose and a black eye. 

Luke is a very cuddly and loving person behind his whole “bad boy” image, that he so dearly tries to contain. When it’s just you and him, he ’s the sweetest boy you’ve ever met, taking care of you, holding your hand and randomly placing kisses all over your face at the most unexpected times.

You have just gotten home from school and it’s a Friday, which means that you are staying over at Luke’s apartment tonight. You are currently lying on his bed, you are lying on top of him, your chin on your hands that are placed on his chest. You are looking forward o spending some times with your boyfriend, since you’ve been so busy with school this last week and haven’t had any spare time to see each other. You are mindlessly running your fingers over his clothed chest when you see something white peeking out from under the v-neck of his shirt. 

“What happened?” You ask shocked when you move the shirt and see that it is a big white bandage that is situated right under his left collar bone. “Are you hurt?”

“Babe, calm down. It’s just a tattoo.” He chuckles, taking your hand in his.

“You got a new tattoo?” You ask, both surprised and relieved.

“Yeah, got it earlier today.” He says, looking proud. Most of his arms were already covered in tattoos, he also had a couple on his hips.

“Can I see?” You ask, biting your lip in anticipation. He looks at you before he nods, sitting up to remove his shirt and slowly starts peeling the bandage off of his still sore skin. You can see that it is some sort of text that is in printed on him, but you can’t quite read it yet. He takes the whole thing off and you can finally see what it says, “To the moon.” You whisper, lightly tracing the outlines of the new tattoo. 

“I don’t know, I guess I just thought it’d look good.” He shrugs. You are still sitting up, while he is lying back down again, looking up at you.

“It’s nice.” You say. You touch the ink out of curiosity of how it feels like, but quickly remove your hand when he winces slightly. “Sorry.”

“’s okay.” He smiles.

“How many do you have?” You ask, taking in his whole upper body, completely exposed to only your eyes. You start tracing the lines of all his other tattoos, gracing your fingers over them. You hope he doesn’t feel the burning sensations that run through your fingertips when you touch his skin, or the heavy blush that is creeping its way up your cheeks. 

“Dunno, a bit over thirty at least.” He shrugs, watching you as you run your hands over his toned chest and arms. You think that his body is beautiful, a master piece even, with all the different shapes and letters covering his skin. This situation, with you straddling him and him being shirtless with all of his tattoos exposed, is very intimate and you suddenly feel a strong urge to kiss him, so that is what you do. You bend down and place you lips on his, he’s a bit surprised at first but soon his lips start to move against yours, his hands finding their place on your hips. He pulls away for a brief second to read your face, but when he sees nothing but love and excitement, he quickly attaches your lips together again. You lightly lick his bottom lip to see how he’d react, a second later he opens his mouth too and touches your tongue with his. Adrenaline is pumping through your body, even though you’re only making out, but tonight you feel like something more might happen. This is usually where you stop, but you want to try something else. Feeling a little extra bold at the moment, you break apart from Luke and grab the hems of your shirt before you pull it over your head. 

“Wh-What are you doing Y/N?” Luke stammers, swallowing hard as he’s looking directly at your chest, eyes wide. 

“I want you.” You say, blushing deeply. You’ve always been that innocent good girl with top grades, always doing what your parents told you to do, and losing your virginity have been kind of a big step for you, but you feel extremely comfortable with Luke and you know that he’s never do anything to hurt or embarrass you.

“What do you mean?” He asks, sounding unsure.

“I. Want. You.

“Bu-”

You lean down again and start kissing him, caressing his chest as your hands make their way downwards toward his jeans.

“Y/N, wait-” Luke says, grabbing your hands. 

“You don’t have to ask me Luke, I’m sure about this.” You assure him as you slip your hands out of his grip, quickly unbuttoning his pants.

“No, you need to stop.” He says frustrated, this time pushing you off of him so you land on the bed beside him. He quickly buttons his jeans and stands up, looking at you angrily before he storms out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

You have no idea of what just happened, he just got angry without even giving you an explanation. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to be with you, and then you just threw yourself all over him. You feel the tears begin to prickle in the corners of your eyes, feeling extremely embarrassed, completely humiliated as you sit there in just your bra. Luke doesn’t want me. He thinks that I’m a loser and he deserves so much better than me, you think. The tears are full on streaming down your face by now, you quickly grab your shirt and pull it over your head again, but it doesn’t do any good. You just lost every chance you ever had with Luke, and now you feel like absolute shit, you need to get out of here. 

You open the bedroom door, seeing Luke sitting in the small living room on the couch with his head buried in his hands. He looks up when he hears your bedroom door open but you decide to ignore him, right now, you just want to go home.

“Baby..” He breathes when he sees your tear stained face. He stands up and make his way to you.

“Don’t.” You warn. “I’m leaving. I shouldn’t have done that, I shouldn’t even had come here, I’m sorry.” You say as you open the door that will get you out of the apartment.

“No, babe, please let me explain!” Luke says frantically, grabbing your hand and keeping you from leaving.

“There is nothing to explain. I know that you are disgusted by me and think that I’m too inexperienced, so you don’t want to have sex with me. I get it.” You say, feeling another tear slip out. 

“No, that’s not the truth, I think you are the most beautiful girl on the planet.” Luke says. You search his eyes for the dishonesty that you know must be there somewhere, but you can’t find it.

“Then why won’t you have sex with me?” You ask confused, wiping your eyes. 

“Please don’t leave? Let me explain, okay? Just stay.” He pleads and you nod, wanting to hear what he has to say. He breathes out a sigh of relief before he pulls you with him to the couch, sitting down. 

“I really like you Y/N, fuck, I even love you.” He starts. “And you know I’d do anything for you, you deserve more than the best, and that is why I can’t let you lose your virginity to a loser like me. You’re so innocent and pure, and I have no fucking idea why you’re still with me, because I’m an asshole that doesn’t deserve to at all. That is why I can’t have sex with you, no matter how much I fucking want to, you deserve a clean, smart lawyer or a fucking fire fighter, I don’t know, but someone who’s better than me.” He says, leaving you completely speechless. So that is what all of this was about.

“Luke..” You say, taking his hand.

“You know it’s true, don’t even try to deny it, your dad sai it himself. I’m nothing but a failure, and I won’t take your virginity.” He exclaims, looking into your eyes.

“Listen to me,” You start, placing a hand on his cheek. “I love you. You. You are more than good enough, There is no other guy in the world that I’d rather lose my virginity to, and I don’t give a single shit about what my father says! I’m the one who’s opinion matters, not his. So please believe me when I say this, I want you to take my virginity.” You say.

“I- I can’t- I’m sorry but I can’t Y/N.” He sighs. “I want to, but I can’t.”

“Stop thinking so low of yourself and believe me when I say that you are amazing, I want you and I love you.” You try to convince him.

“Fuck, how did I ever get this lucky?” Luke whispers, looking into your eyes with a sad smile on his lips. “I don’t deserve you. Not at all.”

“Just shut up and kiss me.” You smile. He smiles back before he do just that, kisses you, with all his love.  

Luke then carries you with him into your bedroom once again. All of your clothes are slowly being removed, admiring every new part of body that is exposed until you’re both completely naked. Luke is already rock hard and you can feel a throbbing in your now wet core. Luke lays you down on your back, pressing a kiss you your lips once before his eyes meets yours.

“Are you okay?” He asks, gently removing a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. You nod and smile back him, and in this moment you both realize how utterly, foolishly and completely in love you are with each other, and that this moment couldn’t get any better.

Luke puts on a condom that he kept in a drawer in his bedside table, putting it on himself.

“Are you ready baby? It’s gonna hurt a bit, but I’ll be gentle. I promise.” He assures, lacing his fingers with yours.

“Yes.” You answer, bracing yourself for whatever the feeling might be like. Luke kisses you forehead once before you can feel him and your entrance, slowly starting to push in. Even though you have a little to zero experience with the male genitals, you are sure that Luke is definitely not one of the smaller ones, your theory is proven when you feel your walls being stretched out by his large size.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He hisses into you neck, before placing light kisses at the spot.

You squeeze you eyes shut, hugging Luke’s hand as you try to be quiet, even though it really hurts, assuming that the pain must come to an end soon.

“Are you alright, love?" 

You nod in response, concentrating on Luke’s voice. He starts to move a little more, faster, and the pain is soon starting to wear off and instead of strangled whimpers escaping your mouth, quiet moans are instead. 

"Luke..” You breathe, bringing his face to yours so you can kiss him.

“Feels good?” He asks, increasing the speed.

Yesss…” You moan. Embarrassed by the unfamiliar sound, you put your hand over your mouth, but it is soon being removed.

“Want to- Wanna hear you baby, so hot.” Luke groans, and there is really nothing stopping you anymore, your moans are flooding freely through your mouth, turning Luke on even more.

After some more rubbing, a few hard thrust and a line of curse words that would give your mother a stroke, you are both coming. The high is amazing, and nothing like you’ve ever experienced before. Luke is holding your body tightly pressed against his, feeling both of your hearts beating like crazy for one another.

“I love you so fucking much.” Luke pants.

“I love you too, to the moon and back.

A/N: ok I have no idea if that was what you wanted, I guess I got kinda carried away. I’m sorry for any misspellings or other mistakes, it’s like in the middle of the night rn, sorry. please like if you like it x

Fiona

The grand enchanter of the troubled Circle of Magi during the explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes is the only Warden on record who was actually able to reverse the effects of her Joining - an apparent production of an expedition to retrieve Warden-Commander Bregan from the Deep Roads in 9:10 Dragon. The fiery elven mage was present at the White Spire conflict and, before the violence, preached for mage independence, even going so far as to controversially proclaim, “fuck the Divine.” 

ReelMagik STP Initial Review

I got my ReelMagik today! I ordered it the first week of November with a 5-7 week time estimate. It was closer to 9 weeks, but that’s including the holidays. So all in all, not too bad. I got the standard model with M7 skin tone. Keep in mind that this is my initial review. It’s only based on what I see and think on first impressions. I’ll try to do another review after I’ve been using it for a while.

Genitalia under the cut.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hi sorry if this is asked before but what tools do you use for ur traditional art? It is really lovely... Anyway have a nice day

ive been experimenting with different pens recently because my friend got me an artsnacks subscription for a few months but here are my favorites:

as for colors i dont have a fancy collection. i use gold sharpies a lot, and highlighters. the only skin tone marker i have is the Y946T Ironlak twin marker and i love it but i want to expand what i have eventually. however its not necessary, im happy if i only have my .5 foray and calligraphy pen ^^

All over again

A Drabble Games fic requested by @maedhrosrussandol, featuring Thorin

88: “I want us to start all over again” 

———————————–

The air of Erebor feels thick, heavy with silence and darkness, and even the soft pad of your slipper-clad feet on the stone floor echoes as you make your way through musty halls still littered with debris and lit only sparsely with lanterns. The mountain seems to slumber along with its inhabitants, and your lonely wakefulness draws you like a magnet to the one person whom you know also finds sleep elusive.

You find him in the throne room.

The smell of the smoldering brazier beside him reaches your nostrils, and for a fleeting moment your stomach lurches with the vivid memory of other nights when you had found him here, rooted to the throne as though sleep would rob him of his kingship, bitter and suspicious and raving about the arkenstone.

Tonight, though, he sits crownless and clad in nightclothes on the steps of the dais, his elbows resting easily on his knees. The eyes that meet yours are clear and kind, and their corners crinkle with a welcoming smile as he extends a hand to you in wordless understanding. Strong fingers close over your own, and he presses your hand to his lips before drawing you to a seat beside him, tucking you into the crook of his arm. The fur of his robe’s collar tickles your cheek when you rest your head on his shoulder.

Keep reading

beastcallisto  asked:

I wonder if you also answer asks regarding fanfiction? If so: I'm writing a story about a canon black woman from her POV. It is a retelling of canon events with slight changes about the world, concentrating on her (interracial) romance. Now my question: I haven't described anyones look yet, mainly because it's fanfiction so most readers know how they look. I usually only do that when smut happens and I'm not there yet. Should I handle this as usual or sooner? Thanks for any advice.

Should I Describe Characters of Color in Fan Fiction?

Do it soon and do it more than once because I had this happen to me once in a fic where early on, I described the OC’s family and then at the end, her contrasting skin tone to her father and people. were. pissed.

Your readers will be pissed if they find out that they’ve been invested in a black woman all along. Just do it early and multiple times as to weed out the racists. That’s what I do now.

~ Mod Brei

Acknowledging a character is x race is an important part of representation. Even without her race being central to the plot, and even with this being fan fiction (so character’s should know her race) It is nice to be shown/reminded that “hey, this woman is Black like me. Important enough to have her story told and is also being portrayed in a positive, significant role.” 

We offer several ways in which you could do so. See the several posts listed in the FAQ (Q: “How do I introduce the race of my characters?”) though i’d recommend a browse in the description tag as well as we’ve published more related asks since then.

Plus, going along with what Brei said, there are readers, whether intentionally or not, who picture characters white by default, potentially even canon Characters of Color.

This is why, even with a canon Black character, specifics are everything.

~Mod Colette

I Need a Distraction From Bedsores [English | FanFic]

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin (© Isayama Hajime)
Character(s): Levi, Eren Yeager, Isabel Magnolia, Hange Zoe + mention of others
Pairing(s): Riren
Genre: Slice of life
Rating: T
Wordcount: 1783
Note: modern!AU, fantasy elements, succubus!Eren, half-Veela!Isabel, witch-tattoo artist!Levi, siren!Hange

Summary: «I know what you can do to distract yourself from bedsores!» Said Isabel, a mocking inflection coloring the last word. «The agency I work for needs a new model, why don’t you try?»

Written for Day 2: Summer Job of the Ereri/Riren Week~

Inspiration from these prompts: “incubus and succubi who are models + witch tattoo artists who secretly disguise protective runes into all their tattoos”.

Edit:
Succubus!Eren AU (i.e. “Bewitch Me” on AO3), in chronological order: PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

Keep reading

3

Model Nykhor Paul letter to white people in the fashion world about make up when it comes to black models.

Dear white people in the fashion world!

Please don’t take this the wrong way but it’s time you people get your shit right when it comes to our complexion! Why do I have to bring my own makeup to a professional show when all the other white girls don’t have to do anything but show up WTF! Don’t try to make me feel bad because I am blue black its 2015 go to Mac, Bobbi Brown, Makeup Forever, Iman cosmetic, black opal, even Lancôme and Clinique carried them plus so much more.  A good makeup artist would come prepare and do there research before coming to work because often time you know what to expect especially at a show! Stop apologizing it’s insulting and disrespectful to me and my race it doesn’t help, seriously!…That goes for NYC, London, Milan, Paris and Cape Town plus everywhere else that have issues with black skin tones. Just because you only book a few of us doesn’t mean you have the right to make us look ratchet. I’m tired of complaining about not getting book as a black model and I’m definitely super tired of apologizing for my blackness!!!! Fashion is art, art is never racist it should be inclusive of all not only white people, shit we started fashion in Africa and you modernize and copy it! Why can’t we be part of fashion fully and equally?

What do you ladies think? Will the fashion world get their shit together?

-Pierre

Fanfiction - This Man I Chose

This is a direct continuation for Andromeda, a story featured in my Constellations series. However, it’s a side piece and doesn’t belong in the series. I blame this on @iwanttodriveyouthroughthenight and @shortiemcbealle, some of the most lovely ladies out there. Thank you for all the support in my latest ficlets, I’m feeling the love!

Fanfiction list

This Man I Chose

She was sitting by the lake, her naked feet dipped in the calm waters, made blue and silver by the moonlight. Her white stockings made of fine silk were carelessly abandoned near the watercress that grew in the bank.

“I was looking for ye, Lady Claire.” Jamie said in a hushed tone, so not to frighten her. “I missed ye during dinner tonight.”

She glanced over her shoulder, noticing how his eyes were fixed in the exposed skin of her ankles and lower part of her calves, a rare and sensuous sight. She blushed slightly and fumbled with her skirts to cover more of her legs, divided between defiance and amusement.

“I wasn’t feeling very well.” Claire replied. “I came here to catch some fresh air.”

“I see.” He moved to sit near her in the soft grass, leaving a respectable distance between them - most certainly approved by any chaperone, although no living soul was within sight. “Are ye certain there’s nothing amiss, lass?”

She breathed deeply, trying to gather her thoughts. Oh well, best to come straight out with it then.

“I overheard your conversation with Lord Delmar and Lord Tadeus.” She admitted in a clipped tone. “You didn’t need to defend me, you know. I couldn’t care less about what those two swiving pigs think of my behaviour.”

She had been walking to the Great Hall, slightly late for dinner as she had spent the afternoon riding her mare in the woods near Beauchamp Castle. She had needed to spend some time alone, away from the crowd that seemed to populate every room and corner those days. Away from eager eyes and gossiping whispers. Even away from Jamie.

Claire couldn’t reasonably deny the appeal he exerted over her since the moment she first saw him – a sentiment that only grew with each glance, touch and conversation. That wild ride against him during the tournament had been one of the most trilling and satisfying moments of her life. And the acceptance and honesty she had found afterwards had sealed the deal.

But she was afraid of the course her life had suddenly gained without her consent. Of the changes to come, which might find her as unprepared as she had been to the idea of loving Jamie Fraser.

Her thoughts had been interrupted by the sound of voices talking near a tapestry and she was about to greet them when she heard her name. Claire halted and, hidden by the growing shadows, had recognized the voices of two young knights, vassals of her uncle.

“Do you think Lord Fraser will succeed in taming the wild mare?” Tadeus said with a crude laugh. “And will she bite his cock off while he does it?”

“Likely.” Delmar laughed. “I expect she will ride him, if he doesn’t show her the proper place for a lady. More time sowing and praying and less time meddling in men’s affairs.”

“She is a pretty thing.” Tadeus added. “If she didn’t look like she would much prefer to wear an armour and a signet ring over a dress, I’d have married her years ago.”

Claire had been about to barge in and present them with a piece of her mind when she heard footsteps and a commanding voice.

“I would advise ye to be more careful in addressing my future wife – and yer mistress – in the future, Sir Tadeus. Unless ye want to solve this in the jousting arena.” She immediately recognized Jamie’s lilt.

“Lord Fraser!” Claire could hear the tremor in the man’s voice. “I was just commenting on the brave task you have upon you, sir. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”

Jamie had laughed then, humourless.

“Lady Claire could have handled any of ye without needing a champion.” He said. “That the lot of ye seems so threatened by a lass tells me more about yer manhood than of my lady’s abilities. Ye have been warned.” And he marched away.

She stood there, her heart furiously beating in her chest, while they went away, probably seeking the comfort of food and drink after their humiliation.

“Ye are my bride, Lady Claire.” Jamie answered her in a serious tone. “We’re still getting to know one another and I ken that well, but…Do ye really think I could stand by and say nothing about it?” Jamie shook his head in disbelief.

“I told you in the stables that day,” She started, watching as a trained hawk made a low flight at distance before turning away, undoubtedly seeking its master’s hand. ”I am what I am. I fear you’ll spend every hour you’re not sleeping defending me, if you take that course of action. I’m used to it by now. Their words mean nothing to me.”

“Ye shouldn’t be.” Jamie retorted heatedly. “Used to it, I mean. Those were bold remarks and uncalled for. Ye are a Lady and the daughter of this castle.”

“But they told the truth!” She looked at him, fiercely. “I am good with a horse. I speak my mind. I clearly don’t spend enough time around laces and needles. I don’t need to be found pleasant or beautiful.” Their eyes met. “I am sorry – for embarrassing you, Lord Fraser. If you find you need to dissolve our commitment then…”

“Why do you do that?” Jamie asked, his big hands opening in desperation. “Are ye really so afraid that ye need to push me away everytime I get too close? Are ye so scared of me seeing that ye are beautiful and worth any battles I might face?” His hand travelled the distance between them, as his fingers brushed hers. ”I won’t go away, Lady Claire. I won’t leave ye – not as long as ye want me here. My bride. My home. My equal.”

She gulped, fighting back tears that threatened to overpower the dam in her soul. To be wanted. To be respected. To be loved so completely by this man – the one she chose.

They stood in silence for a while, the soft summer breeze cooling their skin. A toad made a nasty flicker with its tongue and an awkward jump nearby, making them both laugh, easing the tension between them.

“Do ye ken what swiving is?” Jamie asked in a casual tone.

“I…” She glanced at him, trying to measure the best response. “Well, I…Yes, I do.”

“Ah.” There was a light frown between his ruddy brows made funny by the tenuous smile in the corner of his mouth. “Do ye…ken much about it?”

“The matter is not only a favourite amongst men, I believe.” She smiled. “The ladies also spend quite some time talking about it behind closed doors. You would be amazed by all the details.”

“They do?” He seemed surprised. “And what do they say about it?”

“All sorts of things.” She snorted. “There is the question of sizes, I believe. And some women say men grunt a lot during it; and snore afterwards.”

“Hm.” Jamie looked concerned and Claire noticed how his eyes discretely went to his own groin, as if measuring his own adequacy to recommended standards. “But you…I….I mean, you…are…”

“Yes. I am a maiden, Lord Fraser.” She raised an eyebrow to him, happily noticing how embarrassed he seemed. “And you milord – are you very…very familiar with the subject?”

She was pleased to realize he could get even redder, now that his cheeks truly matched his hair colour. Claire found it both adorable and refreshing, deeply contrasting with the usual poise and hardness of knights.

“I ken some of the theory.” He said in a low voice.

“Not the practice, then?” Claire pressed on. Her eyes found his and she saw quiet storms brewing in the dark blue of his eyes.

“No.” Jamie whispered. “Not the practice. Not what ye would suspect of a Scottish barbarian, aye?” He laughed. “I learned ye used to call me that before.”

“Yes.” She admitted. “One of the many things I was surprised to discover about ye, Lord Fraser.”

“I hope I may continue to amaze ye, Lady Claire.” He said and his eyes softened in tenderness, while he grabbed her hand and planted a chaste kiss in her palm.

“You’re going to see me in my shift soon enough.” She said cautiously, after a moment. “Maybe…you could call me Claire? At least when we are alone?”

“Aye.” He agreed with a smile. “If ye think ye can call me Jamie?”

“I do.” She returned the smile. “Jamie.”

He got up and bent slightly, so that his mouth was close to her ear.

“I look forward to seeing ye in yer shift, Claire.” His hot breath caused a shiver down her spine. “And everything else that lies underneath it, mo graidh.”

And he walked away leaving the soles of her feet and her belly tingling with what she was most certain wasn’t cold.