Parallel Worlds of City Rain Reflections in Toronto

Each picture can tell its own story, if you have the right angle and approach. Through his Instagram,Guido Gutiérrez Ruiz wants to show that we can make good pictures without needing a professional camera. During a trip in Toronto, he shared city views that he calls Parallel Worlds : he captures the reflection of buildings and passer-by through water puddles that we can see after the rain.

anonymous asked:

ok, bamf!bucky thing -- bucky definitely can speak a shitton of languages, and he saves the more romantic ones for bed

Steve had to wonder if he always had a thing for polyglots or if it was just because all this talk was coming out of the mouth of James goddamned Barnes that it was getting him so hot and bothered.

“Mmm, what dialect is that?” Steve murmured, feeling like a warm puddle of goo everywhere that Bucky was touching him.

“Lubnani,” Bucky answered against the web of soft skin behind Steve’s ear. Steve shuddered and hummed blissfully when Bucky let his teeth scrape against the delicate little stretch.

Bucky was spread over Steve’s body like the world’s thickest electric blanket. Steve had all but ripped his tac vest off before they collapsed in bed but Bucky was still dressed in his heavy cargo pants, boots unlaced but still on as his feet as they dangled over the edge of their California King.

Steve hummed again, tipping his head so Bucky could put his mouth to better use. “You know any of the other 21 dialects? You oughta teach me some.”

“Haash tehki,” Bucky grunted, his mouth dragging down to the underside of Steve’s jaw. “Allah, shoob tehki.”

“I know you’re being mean to me,” Steve said, not sounding all that bothered about it.

Bucky nipped sharply at Steve’s throat before roughly tweaking a nipple. Steve jerked up with a broken little cry, hands slapping down blindly over Bucky’s ass.

Bucky knew Steve loved it when he bullied him a little. “Enta tuhabbuh,” he said with a vicious little grin.

“Oh! Oh god, Buck—“ Bucky nipped him again, then dragged his tongue over the mark as he gentled his fingers over Steve’s abused nipple. “Oh god, I love it. I don’t even care, I love it.”

Lubnani = Lebanese

Haash tehki = Stop taking

Allah, shoob tehki = God, do you talk

Enta tuhabbuh = You love it

On Saturday morning, Algy paid a visit to his assistants’ house. He was surprised to see that a large pot in a dark corner of the garden had undergone a sudden transformation… Algy was thrilled to see the little flowers glowing in the February sunshine, and as he gazed at them in wonder, a tiny wren started to sing in the bushes behind him. The ground was hard with frost and there was ice on the puddles, but Algy knew it was the beginning of spring :)

Algy wishes you all a very happy weekend, and - if you live in a cold, northern country - he hopes that spring will reach you very soon xo


Remade and renamed the Sanitarium’s Final Discussion Monster, from Living Heaven to Cuddle Puddle. As cool as the wall of crushed faces and body parts was, it wasn’t “sprite friendly”, the sprites are too small on the screen to make it look cool. So a corpse danglin’ from a tree of laughing, tongue-out faces translates a little better into chibi form.

It’s a little more risque, but if folks object I’ll just draw more arms around her to cover her up more, adding more cuddle to this puddle, hehehe.

Guess who the next cuddle Charlotte gets is from! I’ll give you a hint:

018 In The Shower

Ashton: He had your body pushed up against the glass shower door, warm water running over the both of you. Your hand ran up and down the wall, in desperate need to to hold onto something. Ashton kept thrusting up into you, grazing against all your most sensitive parts. He pulled your damp hair back over your shoulder as he gave a particularly hard thrust, causing you to throw your head back and release a loud moan. 

Calum: Calum had you a moaning mess in a mere minute, having you clutching at the shower knobs as you were screaming out in pleasure. He was thrusting into you from behind, the only thing keeping you from collapsing on the shower floor in a puddle of pleasure, was his rough hands on your hips, keeping you steady as he fucked you into a world of ecstasy. 

Michael: The both of you were giggling in between your makeout session, already both soaked wet from the rain that had suddenly began to pelt down as the both of you walked hand in hand back from the park. Another giggle left your lips as Michael pulled away to remove your shirt, the two of you reengaging in your snog session under the running water.

Luke: Luke bent down, so that you no longer had to stand on your tippy toes to reach his kissable lips. He ran his hands over you ass, before he ran his hands further down the back of your thighs. He lifted you up, your legs automatically wrapping around his torso as he gave you a cheeky grin. Your hands wrapped tighter around the back of his neck as his lips found yours once again. 

Undercover Baking

Fluffiness, ya’ll. Fluffiness abounds. And a tinge of crackiness. Happy Friday, may all your weekends be fantastic!

Sherlock crouched in front of the oven and scowled. Inside was supposed to be the most perfect cake in all of creation. Rich chocolate with just the right combination of lightness and moistness. Yanking open the door, he retrieved the pan and dropped it unceremoniously onto the stovetop.

The edges of his cake were already burned and the middle was still a gooey puddle. And all he had to show for his efforts in this catastrophe was frizzy hair covered in flour, a messy apron, and a severe loss of pride.

‘Oh, my.' 

His nose twitched as the scent of cinnamon and chocolate wafted over him. 

'Would you like to try again, Mr Scott?’ The elderly woman teaching this ridiculous class laid her wrinkled hand on Sherlock’s arm in an attempt to placate him. 

He bit his lip to keep from snapping at her and adopted a forced chagrined expression, turning to look at her. 'I’m not sure another attempt would show any improvement, Mrs Foster.’

'Maybe Miss Souris would care to assist you.’

Sherlock turned to face the station behind him and didn’t even try to hide his displeasure. Piping intricate flowers along the edge of her perfectly round, perfectly frosted, and no doubt perfectly delicious, vanilla cake, Molly glanced up and smiled sweetly at him. 

'I’d be happy to in just a mo’.’ With a flourish, she finished the last flower and reached for another piping bag. To Sherlock’s growing surprise, she expertly dabbed yellow accents at the tips of the flower petals, spinning the cake stand with her free hand. 

'There!’ She declared it finished and stepped back. The rest of the class had abandoned their own projects to watch her work and applauded, several of the women crowding around and examining Molly’s creation with oohs and aahs while the undercover pathologist blushed prettily under their praise.
Sherlock looked back at his own pitiful attempt and, if possible, his scowl deepened. 

'Ready to go?' 

He nearly jumped in surprise. So lost in his sulk, he hadn’t noticed Molly approaching him. She stood right next to him and was pretending to examine his cake (if it could even be called that), all while speaking out of the corner of her mouth. 

'Sherlock?’ She whispered. 'Do you have enough evidence yet?’

Of course he did. He’d had it the moment they’d sat down for the class introductions. Mrs Foster, sweet old lady that she appeared to be, was embezzling from the school. He’d snatched her phone and forwarded the incriminating emails to Lestrade before they’d even broken an egg.
But he’d wanted to show off a bit. He was a graduate Chemist and baking was essentially edible Chemistry. 

Unfortunately, his ability to achieve perfection in all he tried his hand at apparently did not extend to culinary arts. And the cherry on top of this fiasco was that instead of being impressed by his inate baking skills, Molly easily showed him up while he floundered pathetically.

Not that he wasn’t impressed (and more than a little turned on) by her confident prowess in baking. But the case was not turning out how he had anticipated.

He’d been trying to work up the courage to ask Molly out for weeks. But the words would never come. He’d eventually resorted to asking her to accompany him on cases. They’d gone on seven in the past two weeks and John was beginning to get suspicious as to why Sherlock was leaving him alone all of a sudden. 

What Sherlock hadn’t expected this time was to discover that, despite his Chemistry background, he apparently couldn’t bake at all. And that Molly had managed to hide a secret talent from him for years.

'Where did you learn to do this?’ He blurted out.

Molly blinked and busied herself rearranging the ingredients on his station. 'I practiced. My schedule doesn’t allow me much of a social life. Baking became a bit of an obsession to cope with the harder days.’

He hummed in understanding. 'Maybe you could… teach me sometime.’

Her hands stilled and she looked at him in question. 'Like right now?’

'I don’t think this is the right place, considering the Met should be here to arrest Mrs Foster within the next seven minutes.’ They shared an amused smile. ‘But tonight?' 

She nodded. 'As long as we do it at my place. I have a feeling we may accidentally introduce some unfortunate chemicals if we did it at Baker Street, no matter how well you say you cleaned.’

He chuckled. 'Fair enough,’ he agreed as he unknotted his apron and tossed it to the floor. Molly opened her mouth to tell him to pick it up, but he cut her off. He wasn’t going to put this off a moment longer. 'Since you have the rest of the day off anyway, would you like to join me for coffee?’

His tone had been casual, but his heart was racing. Molly’s eyes widened in surprise and a becoming blush stained her cheeks. Her mouth opened and shut several times as she tried to speak. 'Join you? As in…a…?’

'A date? Yes.' 

Seven seconds of agonizing silence passed while Molly stared at him in shock. He was beginning to worry that she didn’t seem to be breathing when her surprise suddenly gave way to a beaming smile that lit up her face. 'I’d love to.’

Relief swept over him. He grinned as she eagerly jerked her apron over her head and tossed it toward the laundry bin. 

'Shall we?’ He held out his hand to her. She pulled her lips back to hold in her smile and dimples appeared in her cheeks as she slipped her hand into his. 

'Afterwards, back to mine for a baking lesson?’ She smirked up at him.  'I think your culinary skills are in desperate need of immediate assistance.’

He mock pouted, but preened when Molly squeezed his hand to pacify him.

'Don’t worry, we’ll start simple. Some scones or biscuits, maybe? We can always have John taste test them so we don’t have to.’ She smirked cheekily.

A wicked grin formed on his face and he snatched her beautiful creation, stand and all, in one hand and pulled her along behind him with the other. ‘You’re positively devious, Doctor Hooper.’

Molly turned back to the confused class and waved just as Sherlock pulled her out the door and out of sight.

Four Hours Later

'How did you like the biscuits?' 

Molly opened her eyes and giggled at seeing Sherlock upside down standing in the doorway. 'Best I’ve ever had, though next time we should try actually baking them.' 

Rolling over, she rested her chin on her arms and bit her lip as she stared at her boyfriend. Boyfriend! He sauntered over to her and dropped onto the bed. The sheets were wrapped around her haphazardly and the way he looked at her made her feel like a Greek goddess lounging about indulgently.

She turned onto her side, propping her head up. 'Never thought eating uncooked dough could be so sexy.’

He leaned down and began nibbling along her bare clavicle. 'Who could resist watching you lick it off your fingers like that? God, Molly.’

She gasped when his nibbles trailed toward her sensitive neck. 'So, what have you been up to for the past few minutes?’

'Just had to put something in the post,’ he mumbled and stretched out on top of her, pushing her into the mattress and kissing her senseless.

Any questions she’d had flew out the window as he successfully unraveled her from the tangled sheets.

Across London

'A package for you, sir.’

Mycroft glanced over to the door, his feet pounding the treadmill and sweat slicking his hair to his forehead. Anthea walked over to him holding a white box and a chagrined look on her face.

Slowing to a stop, Mycroft hopped off and grabbed a towel to dab at his face and neck. He eyed the box and immediately deduced what it contained and the bastard who’d sent it.

Anthea handed it over to him and quickly left the room before the bubble of laughter she’d been holding back burst.

His chest heaving from the exertion of running, Mycroft braced himself and flipped open the lid.

'Damn you, Sherlock.' 

Written in bright red edible gel in the shaky, yet unmistakable handwriting of his younger, pest of a brother across the surface of a delectable looking cake were the words To Mikey-Wikey XOXOXO in the middle of a sloppy heart.

He trailed his finger through the thick, perfectly creamy frosting and licked it off with a delightful moan, closing his eyes.

'Damn you.’

Liquid Courage

Words: 1118

Summary: Based off of an anon request. “Could you do a one shot where Jacob kinda teases the reader because she’s so shy?”

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: Here we go. Finally finished this one up! I know you requested a one-shot anon, but if there’s enough support I might make a second part to this. It depends on what you guys think :) I hope this is what you were looking for. Enjoy! And please feel free to send in requests/feedback.

The sun was shining down warmly, glinting off of the puddles that had formed from last night’s rainstorm. It warmed your back through your jacket as you shuffled quietly down the unpaved dirt road, winding in and out of the various houses until you came to a sad looking wooden fence. The slats were slightly pushed out, some broken while others looked weathered and tired. It was a reflection of how you felt as your gaze trailed slowly from the fence to the courtyard beyond it.

There the familiar green jackets of the Rooks stood out; you were in the right place. Lowering your gaze to the ground you clutched a bundle of papers against your chest, your mind going over what you were going to say. I can do this. I’m just giving George some papers you chanted in your mind, making it your mantra as you timidly walked through the open gate.

Almost immediately all eyes were on you, their gazes were warm and welcoming despite the knot you felt in your stomach. As you walked past each man greeted you softly, none of them pushing for more than that as you approached the door to the main building. It was just as weathered as the fence, creaking in protest as you pushed it open.

You took a deep breath and crossed the threshold, still clutching your papers like a life line as you took each step carefully.

Despite the assassin’s jacket and array of weapons, you found yourself much more comfortable and at home in a stack of books. Perhaps that was why you and Henry got along so well. The thought of being in a physical altercation that would more than likely result in you being stabbed or shot made you queasy. So, here you were, with a bundle of papers handling the bureaucratic side of things.

Your breath hitched as you rounded the corner, coming face to face with George, the head of this chapter of the Rooks. He offered you a soft smile, his bald head shining in the light coming through the windows.

“Ah, Ms. [YLN],” he greeted. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Mr. Frye?”

You can do this.

“N-No, I’m afraid I haven’t,” you said softly. “The Blighters have r-recently had an increase in income and shipments.”

It took every bit of self control to keep your voice from quaking as you shakily held out the stack of papers. The massive Rook took them tenderly from you, gesturing with his free hand for you to join him as he moved to the desk pressed up against the far wall. You moved hesitantly, watching as George set the papers on the desk, rifling through them until he found one of interest.

His eyes scanned it briefly before darting to you. “Thank you, Ms. [YLN]. I’ll have someone look into it.”

You nodded, smiling shyly at him before moving to leave. Just as you turned around you collided with something solid, knocking you back a few steps. “S-Sorry, I’m s-so sorry,” you stuttered, rubbing your nose tenderly.

“Ah, boss,” George greeted.

Slowly your gaze trailed up the patterned vest splattered with blood until it gave way to a firm scarred jawline covered in coarse hair, continuing to a pair of bright hazel eyes. Jacob grinned down at you, his eyes playful despite the various scrapes and bruises that peppered his exposed skin. He had been in a fight, and by the looks of it had suffered heavily for it, even if he was in quite the cheery mood.

“Fancy seeing you here, love. I thought you would have been on the train with Henry,” he joked.

You felt your cheeks flush as you avoided his gaze, casting yours down to the rickety floor boards beneath your feet.

Jacob Frye. The most charismatic man in London; with that handsome smirk and charming personality, he was quite the hit, especially among the Rooks. You had heard some of the ladies whispering about him, making crude remarks, though you were sure if he heard any of them he would be positively smitten.

He was also the poster boy for trouble – the kind of trouble you went out of your way to avoid. Perhaps if you were quick enough you could push past him and be out of the building before he had time to invite you to join him on one of his reckless endeavors. Just as you were about to put your plan into action the young assassin gently grabbed onto your shoulder.

“The boys and I are going down to the pub for a little bit of celebrating, you should join us,” he insisted.

Or not.

You sighed softly, tensing under his touch until his fingers gently dropped away, falling to his side. “Th-Thanks but I’m okay,” you murmured.

“Come on, love, just for a little bit. I’ll even dance with you if you want,” he urged, ignoring George’s pointed stare as his eyes caressed every angle of your face.

“I don’t know…”

The assassin sighed exasperatedly, as if your hesitance was a major inconvenience to him. “Oh don’t be so shy. You’re never going to get a bloke acting like that,” he pressed. “Well, I mean unless you find someone like Greenie, but that’s not the point. Live a little, have a good old dose of liquid courage!”

A moment of silence passed as you gently bit your lower lip, silently cursing yourself now that you were considering taking him up on his offer. Your mentor had always urged you to be confident and assertive. Did this count? You weren’t so sure as you felt the assassin’s gaze boring a hole into your skin despite George’s disapproving looks.

“Well?” Jacob asked, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Are you going to come or are you going to go running on back to your books?”

“I…” you breathed, trembling slightly.

You can do this you chanted silently in your head.

“S-Sure,” you finally spit out, instantly regretting your decision as a large grin split across Jacob’s full lips.

“Ha ha, excellent! Look at you coming out of your little shell!” he exclaimed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he directed you towards the stairs. You could feel the strength of his muscles as they rippled with the effort of holding you against him.

This was a horrible idea.

“Don’t wait up for us, George,” Jacob shouted over his shoulder.

The Rook shook his head as he turned back to the desk, his eyes drifting over the papers you had given him. Jacob Frye was a horrible influence, and he hoped that it wouldn’t ruin you.

Klaroline Valentines - Feels Day

1. Pick your poison - Angst or Fluff? Maybe a little of both? Why? Can you handle non-happy endings or are you completely angst-allergic?

Fluff. What can I say, I’m a melting puddle of feels when it comes to fluff. I love me some good angst too (I’m masochist like that) but I need a happy ending, or at least, a hopeful one. Also, I don’t like angst for angst’s sake - it needs to make sense in the story.

2. From canon land: What KC scene gets you single time? What is it about it that affects you?

A lot of them do, like 3x21 (Klaus says “It’s ok, you’re safe”, they share an intense longing stare and you just can see Caroline believes him, she really does), 4x12 (Klaus to Damon “What is it that you say to her?”) or 4x23 (”I intend to be your last, however long it takes”, the most haunting words ever spoken in the land of supernatural romance).

But one that always gives me some serious feels is 4x21. Sure, it’s Silas!Klaus but when Caroline states with such painful certainty that he moved on and Klaus/SIlas rushes to assure her “The truth is I’ve tried to stop thinking about you. And I can’t” - you just know it’s what real Klaus is thinking as well. And the fact that SIlas!Klaus goes into Caroline’s mind and projects HER OWN thoughts speaks volumes. He says what she wants to hear - because deep down, Caroline wants Klaus to remember her, wants to matter to him. *Wails in a puddle of feels*

3. From fanon land: Are there works (art or videos or fics) that you go back to, time after time, that hit you hard in the feels no matter how many times you see/read/watch them?

Any fanart by @romanoffsbite and @jomosfamilyjewels is a favourite of mine. Also, videos by @queenvampirebarbie and @hissaviourqueen. And last but not least, Paula’s @howeverlongs gifsets, especially her Mates AU series that I’m sure she’s doing with the sole purpose of killing the whole fandom with feels.

As for fanfiction, I could go on and on and on but I’m going through a true feels-fest every time I read these:

1. Love Interruption by @idiot–wind (best love confession by Klaus ever, in this one)

2. Everything, Everything by Anya-Paradox

3. Make Them Spell Last Love by @austennerdita2533

4. Beneath the Skin by @lynyrdwrites

5. Forever Changed by @willowaus

6. All You Need IS Love by @misssophiachase

7. This latest drabble by @ckhybrid

And many, many more!

4. What are some of your favorite headcanons for Klaroline’s possible future?

Caroline finally leaves Mystic Falls. She discovers the world on her own with Klaus “accidentally” running into her from time to time (sexy times ensue, of course).

Caroline lives with Klaus and Originals in NOLA. In time, she begrudgingly befriends Rebekah. Kol is her first mischief companion, along with Enzo.

Caroline and Klaus travel the world, joined by Rebenzo and Kalijah from time to time. She makes the Originals meet for a family reunion at least once each 3 years. Usually, it’s more than that because the whole gang reunites for the annual “Save Kol from the lastest shit-fest he got himself into” event.

Klaus insists to paint Caroline naked in every house he owns. Once Kol saw a glimpse of one such painting - totally accidentally, of course. His eyeballs grew back for days.

Klaus goes so over the top for each birthday and Valentines, it’s a miracle he hasn’t run out of ideas in the centuries they’ve been together. But the truth is, he treats Caroline like it’s Valetines every single day. Even when he’s furious with her.


Rivi: Oh wow. You both look terrible!

Dream: Everything was electrified! The floor! The walls!

Rivi: Are you sure? It was only meant to be the treasures?

Dino: Dream’s right. I got a static shock from a railing which is normal but then I got a bigger one from a doorknob and then   puddle completely zapped me!

Rivi: But you’re okay?

Dream: If you call singed and empty handed okay then sure We’re fine!

Dino: I didn’t get anything either, Except an accidental body hair removal from a highly charged trap door. Ouch.

Dream exited first followed closely by Dino. Neither managed to pick anything up and both score 0 points!

imaginejerseys asked:

Hello! I thought of something I'd like to request o(*^▽^*)o can I request a rainy day with Sugawara? Staying indoors, playing outside, your choice!

Ohhhhhhhhh goodness, I hope I can do this justice for you! It’s funny too, because you answered a request of mine a while back that involved a few of the volleyboys and a snow day! - Admin H

Sugawara really likes rainy days, as they create a nice, peaceful atmosphere and who better to share that feeling with than you.  While you wanted to go and splash in all of the newly forming puddles, Sugawara decided against it because he would never forgive himself if he let you get sick (he does agree to go puddle-jumping with you immediately after the rain stops, though).  So instead, Suga makes you two a giant pillow/blanket fort in your living room with the help of some chairs he grabs around your abode.  Once the fort is established, you two commence in an agreed upon board game that ends in the board getting flipped (just who did the flipping is a point of contention to this day).  The ending of the game led to the beginning of a pillow fight and subsequent destruction of the pillow/blanket fort, but Sugawara made sure the blankets were put to good use again as he wrapped you up once the pillow fight was over (you being declared victor) and carried you over to a windowsill, sitting down and settling you comfortably on top of him.  The both of you sat in comfortable silence for quite a long time, you simply enjoying both Suga and the blanket’s coziness and warmth.  Eventually though, you decide that you would like a nice hot beverage and Sugawara insists that he make it for you so you can continue to relax, so he leaves you at the window for a bit as he makes your favorite hot drink.  He comes back when it’s done and you both note that the rain is starting to let up, and by the time you finish your drink the rain has stopped and so Suga makes good of his earlier promise and the two of you go out and have a splash in the large and numerous puddles left by the lovely rainstorm.