mirrored surface

everybody always says sirius black is the vain marauder but i dare you to try and tell me james potter did not stop in every single shop window/mirror/reflective surface to finger gun and loudly tell himself that he is “one hot bitch!” 

Downstream - ~1k, post 12.23 / pre s13, angst

The ocean is a flat plane of glass, and the boat doesn’t cause a single ripple as it glides along the surface. Dean has no idea how they managed to drift out so far, but somehow they’ve completely lost sight of the shoreline. The only indication of the horizon is the thinnest, faintest line; a stray hair caught in a watercolour canvas.

It’s light out, the air around him a diffusion of pink and gold and reflected back in the water’s mirror surface, but he can’t find the sun. Perhaps it’s nearing dawn.

Dean’s leaning back against the bow, hands behind his head. The gunwales are kind of digging into his shoulders, but he’s smiling.

His companion is silent and placid where he sits near the stern. The light is catching the tips of his hair, setting off the dark with glints of gold. Clasped hands hang between splayed knees.

Dean inhales thick, salt air and lets his eyes drift closed. “This was a good idea. We needed a vacation.”

“You deserve it.”

Dean hums, contented. “You too. Hell, we’ve all been through the ringer lately.”

Cas nods. “I suppose we have.”

Their voices float easily through the air, but in the space all around them it’s perfectly quiet, save the occasional soft, gentle slap of water against the boat.

“Seriously, we shoulda done this years ago.”

“When?” Cas asks, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “After the apocalypse, but before the leviathan? Maybe between the Mark of Cain and Amara?”

“Anybody ever tell you you’re kind of a downer, Cas?” Dean replies peaceably.

“Once or twice.”

Another long and companionable silence stretches out between them. They’ve been out here a while now and the sun probably should’ve risen, but it’s hardly a concern: the glow of light around them is warm enough. In fact, Dean could probably afford to take off his jacket, were he not far too comfortable to move.

“Dean. How long do you plan to stay out here?”

Dean cracks one eye. “What, you got somewhere to be?”

Cas’ answering smile is fond, and only slightly tinged with sadness. “No.”

“That’s what I thought.” Dean drops his eyelid.

“It’s just, there are things you need to do.”

Both Dean’s eyes open now, and he leans all the way up to sit on the hard, wooden seat. The boat rocks and sways. “Yeah, Cas, there’s always something. But you are cutting into our hard-earned relaxation time, man. You keep this up, you can kiss that second date goodbye.”

“This is a date?”

Dean gives him a look. “You take a lot of platonic pre-dawn rowboat rides?”

“I suppose not,” Cas says, and he casts his eyes out to the water. “I’m just a little surprised.”

“But not disappointed.”

There’s a faint blush dusting Cas’ cheeks. Maybe it’s just the light. “No.”

“Because you love me.” Cas’ eyebrows rocket up to his hairline, and Dean shrugs defensively. “Hey, you said it, not me.”

“Well, that’s certainly true.”

Dean’s gotta give him that one. “Touché.”

Cas is looking at him patiently, waiting.

Feeling rather like a third-grader forced to answer a question he wasn’t listening to in the first place, Dean casts his eyes down, suddenly intensely interested in the rough woodgrain below his feet. The fact that the boat has no oars is a mild curiosity.

“I dunno,” Dean shrugs. “Probably shoulda said it then. Guess I just figured you knew.”

“Because you’re always so open and honest with your feelings.”

That’s two points to Cas.

Dean plays for time a while longer, scraping his boots through the coarse, black sand he tracked in from the beach. “Alright, well, there it is. Better late than never, right?”

This time Cas doesn’t bother trying to hide the heartache in his smile.

They sit in silence again, for minutes or maybe hours. Eventually Cas looks left to the non-existent sun. “It’s probably time to go back,” he says quietly.

Dean shakes his head. “Nah. Little longer.”

“You have responsibilities, Dean.”

Dean scoffs. “What, you mean Rosemary’s baby?”

“He didn’t ask to be what he is.”

“He’s the literal antichrist, Cas.”

Whatever he is,” Cas says firmly, “good or evil, he needs someone. He needs guidance.”

“He needs a bullet in the neck.”

Cas shakes his head. “You don’t mean that. He’s an innocent, Dean. And he needs you and Sam, now that I can’t be there for him anymore.”

Something flickers in Dean’s chest, like a moth beating against his heart. He frowns, confused, and finds Cas’ eyes.

The intent expression on Cas’ face gradually shifts to one of resignation. He sighs softly. “You forgot again, didn’t you?”

Dean jolts awake to a blaring car horn.

Sam is driving, the hideous sodium streetlights casting harsh lines of shadow across his face when he turns to the passenger seat. “You were talking again.”

Dean doesn’t answer as he reacquaints himself with the deep, aching chasm in his chest.

Sam swallows visibly, shadows of raindrops on the windshield like pockmarks on his skin. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Dean grits his teeth. “Yeah, Sam. There were these clowns. Like thirty of ‘em, and they all kept piling out of this Volkswagon.” The lie slides easy off his tongue.

Sam throws up a hand in surrender. “Okay.”

Anger is easier. Anger is always easier.

Dean closes his eyes tight and tries to chase the soft, pink-gold light of the ocean. He inhales Baby’s familiar leather scent, desperate for a whiff of salt air.

He tries to forget.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)

Andrea Dworkin | Our Blood

i’m subjective but you’re a hoax

the fake as more

deepest at its surface



“I,” as a woman?


Henrietta Hotel, 14/15 Henrietta St - Covent Garden - London

Owned by the collective behind the Experimental Group - the ones of the Experimental Cocktail Club in London Chinatown and the Grand Pigalle Hotel in Paris- and designed by Dorothee Meilichzon (CHOZN), the hotel is located on Henrietta Street, within two four-story townhouses from the late 19th century. The hotel includes 18 rooms, one restaurant and a cocktail bar. The vibe is relaxed and the decor is actually cool with- it goes without saying- an eclectic style: classic plaster ornaments harmoniously coexist with vintage and modern furniture, mirrored surfaces, brass lamps and marble coverings. 

Kanej – Hades and Persephone

- she weaves flowers in her braid, she draws the light amidst the darkness he created

- he walks past her in her silks, peacock feathers in her hair, as she turns around, her eyes searching for his, but all he can watch is the pomegranate in her hand and its juice dripping to the floor like blood

- she sees the world from above and below, from the depths of the Barrel and the spires of Ghezen’s Hand; half of each year spent on either side of life

- she is the daughter of life, of sweeping fields of yellow wheat, the sweetest fruits, the coast of Ravka, etched into her memory alongside her mother’s scent and father’s voice

- he lives in fog and smoke, in alleys buried between houses that rise so high they squeeze out the sky between them; he sees a world painted in black and red, thrives on other people’s agony and despair

- he makes her a queen – his Wraith queen and he the king who built their court 

- there was never a more fearsome thing: the girl who chose to stay in his underworld, all the more threatening because of how kind she was, how hardened she had become, how capable she was of cruelty, yet of love at the same time

- she took him for what he was, she understood the need for the Lord of Death – their world might be worse for him, but he had made Ketterdam a city in which she could fight her way out of her humiliation and hate and that was all she cared about

- he was their king, but nobody was as feared as she, nobody drew everybody’s eye like the little Suli acrobat, ruthless captain of her death-ship, fearless in lofty heights, every other Barrel boss’ envy

- she took death from him, he life from her; they complemented each other, they had to be together, join together to defy the rest of the world

- he didn’t want to be bare, to let everyone see what his life in the underworld had made of him, what death had supposedly done to him. She saw him and cradled his hands in hers, as she realised he was still human, still had a heart beating in his chest.

- her lips spoke of the summer, dripping with honey, drew him towards her, but repulsed him at the same time. Her words spoke of darkness, her eyes of revenge. They drew him towards her, too. 

- she was a cracked mirror like him. Her surface gleamed silver with the moon enchanting him, but she didn’t make a secret of her past. Not to him. 

- they lived in the shadows, they lived in the secret alleys of a city which was home to ghosts floating along the streets, hiding what they were, forgetting it. But they were as happy as anyone can be under those conditions. They were fighting day to day, but fighting the battles they lived for. 

simple daily crafts (i)

i don’t have access to most witch resources (herbs, crystals, divination tools, etc) so i often opt to incorporate simple witchcraft on my daily routines:

  • chanting a spell as i take a shower to cleanse my body and re-establish a layer of protection (great for witches who associate with water)
  • use spells to help my skin be clear and healthy as i do my skincare routine
  • draw sigils on foggy surfaces (eg. mirrors after a hot shower)
  • pour good intentions into my cooking (health, prosperity, etc for those who eat it)
  • enchant my drinks so they can help cleanse my body from the inside
  • get permission to eat edible offerings to impart the energy, strength, and wisdom of my deities/guardians/etc
  • use part salt water when i mop the floor to cleanse my space regularly
  • enchant my money so that when they’re with me, they keep my finances prosperous and when i use them they’ll help me earn more in the future (you can also enchant them so nobody can use them for “bad” purposes, curse those who steal it, etc the possibility is endless)
  • enchant and charge my detergent so when i wash my clothes, any energy that negatively impact me that stuck to them will be neutralized
  • use glamour spells when i put on my make up
  • cleanse my living space using smoke from incenses (usually ones i’ve offered to my patron deity, after getting their permission) and establish a layer of invisibility protection
  • use novels and textbooks i have for bibliomancy
  • basically enchant everything and anything cause there are no limits to this!
i fell in love with broken mirrors. i knew that they had something in common with me.we were both broken. the mirror on its surface & myself, in the inside. we both knew how to deal with our imperfections the range of likeness present.and whenever i see a broken mirror i’m reminded of my own broken self but also reminded that i can be okay.
  • horror film: oooooh haunted/cursed mirror oooooo
  • me, who has to see my own reflection in every mirror/reflective surface, every damn day: nothing new bud
Don’t cut your hair

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 3.764

Warnings: funny fun and smutty smut ;)

One day, you saw Bucky standing in the kitchen as he made his breakfast. Well, you thought he would make his breakfast. Actually, he was standing in front of the metal fridge with the mirrored surface and you watched how Bucky stared at his reflection.

Keep reading

The Arrangement (Part 4)

Summary: You spend the night at Dean’s place

Pairing: AU!Dean x Reader

Word Count: 3,000

Warnings: language, leering, smutty thoughts/implications/suggestions (PG13)

A/N: The next part is here EARLY because holidays suck and I have work to procrastinate, which makes me super productive with writing! Hope you guys like this part (side note: this GIF destroys me) (please check the tags, guys, a bunch aren’t working)

Need to catch up? Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

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get-thee-to-a-shrubbery  asked:

they reflect up and down if you're standing sideways

nice try we all know you’re hiding your illuminati portal trickery

it still reflects horizontally even if you rotate yourself

even if you rotate the mirror itself the reflection is still horizontal and not vertical


I have a lot of thoughts and feeling about vampires right now, so let’s get one thing straight: In this day and age, a vampire would be able to see themselves in (some) mirrors and in photos.

The myth that vampires cannot see their reflection or appear in photos is because of SILVER - Mirrors are made from silver, and old plate photography was done using many silver based compounds.

Reflections  -  A Vampire would more than easily be able to see their reflection in plain glass, water, and any other polished and reflective surface. Mirrors can be made from other metals too, like gold or bronze, but mirrors made from aluminium would function best as a regular mirror.

Photography  -  I see no reason why a vampire wouldn’t show up in a digital photograph (provided that the photo wasn’t taken with a flash that involved any silver reflection. Vampires would all be selfie pros.

Mirrors (M)

Originally posted by hoesoks

A/N: This is 100% pure, shameless, filth. I’m not even sorry about this, because it was fun as hell to write. Hoseok is a weakness and I’m proud of it.

Words: 3k.

Warnings: Rough smut, dirty talk, slight dominant themes, swearing.

With your hand clasped tightly around the brown paper bag, you walk through the sliding doors and into the BigHit building. Nodding politely at the guard at the desk, you flash your visitor’s badge and make your way to the elevator’s. With your back pressed to the railing perched on the wall, you hum quietly to yourself as you wait for it to reach the floor you need. It was late, almost one in the morning, and you knew that your boyfriend hadn’t eaten anything since earlier in the day, so you opted to pack him a few things to nibble on, worried that he’s overworking himself. Once the elevator reaches it’s destination, you quickly step out and walk to the last door on the right. Peering through the tiny window, you spot Hoseok sweeping across the floor, music vibrating from inside.

He had been working hard recently, trying to come up with a new choreography that was just right. He was rarely home, the dancer seemingly pushing himself further and further just so he can come up with something so precise and damn near perfect. He was stressed, you knew that all too well, and you were here to – hopefully – help take some of that stress away.

Keep reading

Seth Clearwater Imagine: Date Night

Request 4: Reader is really short and gets teased from the others.

Music filled the small room we filled. It swept across the otherwise silent area. I was sitting on the counter while Kim and Emily towered over me. The girls gave inquisitive looks to one another as I gave them willing authoritative over my blank canvas. Kim points towards a colour in an eyeshadow pallet in Emily hands. Emily nods her head enthusiastically while she reaches for a brush. I close my eyes as I feel the smooth bristles of the brush dance back and forth across my eyelids. I feel like a doll that is being made; awaiting the finished masterpiece.

A knock forced it’s way into the room interrupting the music. The door nervously opened slowly. Sam poked in from the other side, “Seth is already here for (Y/N).” Emily went over to him and quickly peaked his lips and nodded her head. Both Kim and Emily returned to their unfinished work with vigorous determination. The mascara wand brush slowly across my eyelids, indicating that I was finally finished. I hoped off the counter and turned around to see myself on the other side of the mirror. I am fearfully excited.

Emily gripped my arm as I saw my reflection quickly drift away from the mirrors surface. The entire pack was crowded along the table eating various snacks that was left out for them. The ate in an effortless aggression that left the remains of their plates to vanish. Heads perked up from the sudden commotion of their imprints entering the scene. Seth got up from the table and stood there looking at with me with unwavering astonishment. The sight caused giggles to freely escape my mouth as I walk over to him. He instinctively wraps his arms around my waist and lens down and gentle kisses my lips.

“Wow Seth you have to lean over so much to get to your imprint that you turn into the Hunchback of Notre Dame,” Paul noted. Laugher barked loudly from all of the other pack members. My face was immediately invaded from the blush the spread across my cheeks.

“Literally anyone here but you would be able to reach the top shelf,” Jared countered back.

“How is the weather down there (Y/N),” Embry questioned?  I rolled my eyes at the hundred year old comment. Seth wraps his arms around me and starts to lead me towards the door.

“Hey, my imprint is just more down to Earth then of you here,” Seth joked back. The mouths of the pack members that made comments opened. Everyone else in the room shouted and oooed at his words. Seth’s hands entangled with him as he pulled me out of the house as we dashed towards the truck. We both got in a slammed the doors.

“I can’t believe you said that,” I gushed in between my laugher from the events that engraved in my member.

“Neither can I,” he replied.

“So where are you taking me?”  He started the truck and began to drive away from the shocked faces that were left inside.

“It’s a surprise.” I smiled a leaned back in my seat, awaiting for the next astonishing uncertainty the night would hold.

actually now that i think about this

if in fallen london’s lore the judgements’ light is their way of enforcing the laws of nature, what happens in areas around the arctic circle in winter, back on the surface? how long and how severely does a place have to be deprived of sunlight for shit to get weird?