splotched

The moment Lily ducked out of the attic, James turned to him with a gaze so earnest that Severus gripped the edge of his chair and glared back. “I was a dick to you, in Hogwarts,” James said.

“Um,” said Severus and then frowned at himself. He detested filler words. But maybe this was a special occasion.

“I’m sorry,” said James. “You’ve got perfect right to hate me, but I’d like it if we could be friends.”

Severus gripped his chair harder. He considered this. James–was the sky purple? were all the pig-flying spells all over England failing for one shining moment? was his mother’s basement freezing over?–waited for him to find his words. “It would make certain things simpler,” Severus managed.

a life of smoke and silvered glass by dirgewithoutmusic / ink-splotch 

(link to full fic here)

Fall in Together

When Steve Harrington opened his door at 9 PM Wednesday night, the last thing he expected to greet him was the anxious face of his girlfriend’s little brother.

“Steve!” Mike exclaimed.  Steve kept frowning, looking around at the other kids standing behind Mike.  Lucas and Dustin were there, along with that new girl that Steve knew to be Billy’s sister Max.  The youngest Byers was nowhere in sight, but Steve wasn’t very surprised by that.  They all looked nervous, staring at him with wide eyes and harried expressions.  “Is Nancy here?”

Steve’s frown only deepened.  “No, I haven’t seen her since school,” he answered slowly.  Their faces all fell, and Mike looked terrified.  “Mike, what’s going on?”

Mike met his eyes and with a sinking stomach, Steve guessed the words he was going to say right before he said them.  “It’s Nancy.  She’s gone.”

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Here's a thought:

What if the Hogwarts sorting process is less about who you are, and more about what you need?

The sorting hat sees a boy thrust into a new world he barely understands, a boy desperate not to blend in with the crowd, and a girl who would sink as deep into her books as she is allowed, and says- what do these children need? They need courage. The courage to keep moving forward despite overwhelming circumstances and high stakes, the courage to see themselves as heroes, the courage to speak up and speak out against injustice.

The hat sees a lost girl whose world has been shattered, who can’t be bothered to fit the world she sees to others’ standards, and says- what does she need? Knowledge. The knowledge of how and why things happen, and the wisdom to accept the things she cannot change.

The hat sees a boy desperate to fill his father’s shoes, used to getting his way and confused at a world that works differently than he was taught. The hat says- he needs power. He needs an identity that will remind him that he has worth, that he can be more than he is.

I wouldn’t want to attend a hogwarts that sorted based on what universal human trait I exhibited most often. I wouldn’t want to attend a hogwarts that sorted similar personalities into uniform groups. I would want to attend a hogwarts that sorts based on its students’ needs, doing its best to help them succeed.

When dumbledore says, “perhaps we sort too soon,” maybe he sees the good that a little bit of courage, instead of a sense of self-worth inflated into superiority, could have done Severus Snape.

Maybe the most dark wizards come out of slytherin because, despite their house’s best intentions, they never quite find the confidence they need there. And it is the unsatisfied, those most disenchanted with the system, who seek to destroy it.

[M] Learning Curve.

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Summary: Submission doesn’t suit everyone and, as far as Jungkook is concerned, you wear it better than he does. 

Count: 8.4K 

Warning(s): Smut, Sub!kook but also Dom!kook (lmfao pls forgive me), dirty talk, spanking, and a pinch orgasm denial because who wouldn’t want to watch Jungkook squirm. 

A/N: Just leave me alone to die.

Originally posted by sirtae

If you had to guess Jungkook’s least favorite thing to do, you would say that renouncing his power was likely it. In bed, anyway.

He always made sure to remind you that he was in charge of your pleasure, no matter what the situation. He administered it as generously or as sparingly as he saw fit. It hadn’t always been so, but Jungkook settled into his role as the dominant one quite naturally. 

Evidently though, your leniency had taken its toll on his once obedient nature. You allowed him to grow confident in his ability to disarm you fully with just one brush of his hands over the right parts of your body, or dirty, whispered words against your neck, or the heat of his body pressing against yours. You had become forbearing, allowing him to push the limits of your control until he had effectively slipped it from your grasp entirely.

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amour

pairing: jeff atkins / reader

genre: smut (lol someone needs to tape my hands in prayer form bc I NEED IT)

description: jeff wins the championship game and as the great girlfriend that u are… u know..u do some cool tricks…HAHAHAHA

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~~Its just about to be showtime folks!!~~

~~ Here it is!! The moment you’ve all been waiting for… ~~

~~ But what lies behind the scenes? ~~

~~ What terrors await? What new adventures?? ~~

~~ Find out soon… ~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~Splotched~~

Cover: ~You’re here!!~

Page 1: ~Let the show begin!~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh my god y’all its finally happening!! Asks will still be open, just-
The ride’s finally about to start~

2

Something Just Like This ~Jeff Atkins x Reader~

Requested: Can I request a Jeff Atkins imagine about morning after with him. And like Jeff would be so cute whispering sweet nothings in his gfs ear while also saying some dirty jokes lolol omg I CANT

The human body contains an innumerable amount of nerve cells. The best we can do is estimate that there are some billion. It is incredible how there are billions of nerve cells working in our bodies and something as simple as the touch of one person can send all of those imperceptible cells into a fervor.

It’s 9:05 on a Sunday morning. The window is slightly cracked, letting the fresh autumn air circulate in. Her chest rises and falls rhythmically with shallow breaths as she pretends to still be sleeping. Small circles are being drawn on her back, clockwise, then counter clockwise. Then it switches to a word, or rather, a name. Jeff.

His fingers drag across her skin gently. First he writes it how you would normally write your name. Then in cursive, in all caps, capitalizing every other letter, looping letters, block letters.

“Are you marking me?” she mumbles tiredly. She can feel him laughing as he wraps his arms around her midsection, pulling her flush against his chest. He kisses the top of her head, nuzzling his face into her hair where traces of his cologne are trapped within the tresses. He’s everywhere. In her hair, on her skin, and where he doesn’t leave a physical presence he takes up residence in the place where her mind wanders.

“In more ways than one,” a smug tone drips off his tongue as he brings his one hand up to grasp her throat loosely, his thumb rubbing one of many dark purple splotches.

“Jeffff,” she whines, scrunching her neck up. Those are gonna be a bitch to cover up, but he loves them. He loves the way they whisper I was here. I will be here for as long as you want me. I love you. I love you.

“I didn’t hear you complaining last night,” he whispers into her ear, letting his lips linger. A shiver works its way down her back involuntarily. It’s almost annoying- how easily he gets to her. Just the sound of his voice is enough to set her skin on fire.

“You’re awful,” she tries to sound stern, but there’s a teasing tone in her voice that gives her away. It’s hard to be annoyed when images of the previous night and all the nights before that flood her mind.

“Yeah?” he questions, an impish inflection shaping his voice, “tell me, which part was less than satisfactory?”

He cups the bottom of her jaw with his palm and pushes upward gently, stretching her neck without causing pain. The bed jostles as his weight shifts to lean over her, his lips ghosting over the thin skin of her neck. It starts with soft pecks that progress to biting and sucking until the unblemished skin becomes a dark shade of red and purple. “Was it this?” he asks against her skin.

His hands grip her bare thighs, wrapping them around his waist. His fingers drag down from the top of her thighs down to the bend of her knees and then back up. Instinctively, her arms lock around his neck, bringing his forehead to rest against hers. “Was it this?” he asks against her lips.

“Oh hush. You’re perfect and you know it,” her voice is breathy as she tries to swallow her own desire. He is perfect, in every sense of the word. He has the kindest heart she has ever known.

“Perfect enough to make you happy?” he says earnestly. He lifts his head to be able to see her face clearly and wholly. Her cheeks have developed a pink tint and her eyes are soft and dreamlike, like she’s looking at the gates of heaven.

“Perfect or imperfect, I am happy,” she grabs his face between her hands delicately, “I’m happy and I love you.”

“Say it again,” he begs as his eyes flutter shut.

“I love you, Jeff Atkins.”

And then he’s kissing her. His lips are familiar but the feeling of them on hers makes her heart race like it’s the first time all over again. His body presses down against hers and she can feel every bump of hard muscle under soft skin. The distance between them is virtually nonexistent. Her heart hangs suspended in the space where she ends and he begins.

“You know,” she says in-between kisses, “this is why the morning after always turns into round two.”

“Sorry babe, I’ll work on keeping my hands to myself,” he laughs, burying his face into her neck.

“That was not a complaint, you keep your hands right where they are,” she returns his laugh whilst running her fingers through his hair.

“Yes ma’am,” he kisses her jaw, “I love you. I adore you with all my heart.”

“That makes me pretty lucky.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” he assures, “but speaking of being ‘lucky’, how ‘bout that round two?”

“You’re relentless,” she giggles pleasantly, pulling him closer.

“Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll stop.”

“Well that would make me a liar,” this time she kisses him, initiating an evocative situation. He responds immediately, his hands tangling in the thin lacy fabric covering her bottom half.

To be adored by a person with such a pure heart is to be loved absolutely. Few ever meet a person like that, but when they do it is significant. It marks a before and after in their life, and how lucky they are to have been loved by a person who knows what it means to love without limit. How lucky they are to have something just like this.


Masterlist

Gifs (X) (X)

‪17-year-old Virginia Christian was the first and last female juvenile to be executed in the electric chair. At a time when Jim Crow legislation and racial purity laws were in effect, Virginia was not granted a fair trial. Virginia was a servant to Mrs. Ida Virginia Belote, a 72-year-old white woman from Hampton, Virginia. Ida was known to frequently beat and berate Virginia and on the 18th of March, 1912, she accused her of stealing a locket and skirt.‬ ‪

Virginia denied these claims before Ida started to beat her with a cuspidor. Ida then reached for a nearby broom but Virginia managed to grab it before her and cracked Ida over the head. Ida started to scream and in an attempt to muffle the screams, Virginia shoved a towel in Ida’s mouth, causing her to suffocate. She readily confessed to the murder. The following morning, newspapers described Virginia as: “A full-blooded negress, with kinky hair done up in threads, with dark lustreless eyes and with splotches on the skin of her face. Her color is dark brown and her figure is short, dumpy and squashy. She has had some schooling but her speech does not betray it. Her language is the same as the unlettered members of her race.“‬ ‪

Virginia was not allowed to defend herself or explain her actions. The constant beatings from Ida were not taken into consideration. Five months later, Virginia was executed.‬

Day Ninety-Two

-I discovered that while I had signed on to pick up a shift that was listed as softlines, I was, in fact, assigned to the fitting room, an area entirely beyond my understanding. Thankfully, the years of theater training that I have amassed have come in handy. I was able to flawless assume the guise of one who knew precisely what they were doing.

-A woman softly shouted, “Don’t you almost kill my baby!” These words themselves were not my main cause for concern, but her nonchalant tone of someone repeating an oft-used line.

-I happened upon a six-sided die, featuring depictions of a satchel, a chalice, a cactus, a sunrise, a character of indeterminate origin, and a large monkey. It is not an item we sell nor was anyone in the store looking for such a relic. I can only assume that those who used this die have completed their occult ritual and decided that they had no further use for it.

-While sorting through returned clothing, a pair of pants was found with incriminating brown stains and an even more incriminating stench. The largest stain was located in the seat of the pants, but this was not the only one. There was a faint trail leading down the left leg, culminating in a large splotch at the cuff, suggesting that whatever had been laid at the start of the path was kicked along downwards in an attempt to get rid of the evidence. While I can only imagine the circumstances this person was facing, I am more interested in why they thought this was the appropriate time to return them.

-A young girl told her unlistening mother that she likes to put Tic Tacs in her butt. I feel that her mother should have cared much more about this than she did.

Uh oh, guys.

After @invaderjj sent me that screencap, I went back to rewatch the scene from my own stream where Henry shakes violently and hallucinates inside the pentagram at the end of chapter 1.

So you walk in, and the room looks like this.

Floor is clean, save for the circle, and the candles are lit, right?

Then we see this.

That’s the ink machine, obviously.  Seems self-explanatory enough.  Once this flash is gone, though…

…we’re back in the room.  So why is the floor covered in ink?  Why are the candles blown out?

(BTW, that’s not Boris’s face next to the coffins – that’s the bottom of a The Dancing Demon poster.  It caught me off guard, too, because there are actually two posters placed in almost the same spot, and their textures constantly glitch back and forth, making it look like the damn thing is moving.)

The next image flash we get is this:

A wheelchair.  Why?  Who’s in a wheelchair?  Or, rather… who WAS?  The chair is empty, and there are splotches of ink here and there.

Something happened here.  You hope it was a miracle… but probably not.

Especially considering the inky frame of this image is the same as what you see when you’re being attacked by those ink ghouls later in Chapter 2.

After that flash fades, we get this:

This image is from my stream…

…and the second image is from this person’s stream, because it shows a clearer view into the room.  What you can’t see in a still image is that Bendy is slowly leaning towards you in this shot.

What’s more, look closely at the layout here: Henry is not in the pentagram room right now.  He’s close to a corner of a room, and the open doorway is right there, with boards all over it, right?  Look again at the pentagram room’s layout:

The only door this could be, if it IS the same room, is the one you did NOT enter through… which is closed, and boarded up in different positions.

Finally, we get this flash:

Bendy.  That’s the ol’ Bendaroo right there, and it’s the same model of Bendy that later chases you at the end of Chapter 2.

And once that nonsense is over, we’re finally back here…

…and we promptly faint.

What the Devil happened here?  Are these flashbacks?  Suppressed memories?  Possibly even premonitions?

Guess we’ll find out later on.

Kiwi, Though.

A/N: this is a bit of an extension of the birthday bows/valentine woes world, but certainly functions as a stand alone piece.  thank you for the request*, nonny 😘

this is a very, very smutty, dirty piece about anal so if that’s not your thing, turn back now. there’s a lot of movement in this, so please offer me a bit of suspension of disbelief and just know that harry and his missus did everything they needed to in order to be clean and safe in this encounter.

*requests are currently closed


He didn’t mean it. Really, he didn’t. Well, he did, but he didn’t. And he certainly didn’t mean it anymore. Not now. Not now that you were hanging it over his head and torturing him with it.

It had been just another nightly FaceTime before bed from miles and miles apart; well bedtime for you, the night had only just started in Jamaica. And it was just typical banter to hide the sour feeling due to return once you hung up. And it was just a sly comment to rile you up, get you excited to join him in Jamaica in a few days.

“Yeh not gonna be able to keep yeh hands off me, love.” And that would have been enough, but Harry often struggled when it came to shutting his big, stupid mouth. “Not even if yeh wanted.”

Your eyes went wide in surprise, mouth ajar with incredulity. “Excuse me?” you scoffed. “I can keep my hands to myself much better than you can, H.”

“Right.” A cocky smirk crossed his lips. “Always got yeh hands all over me, kitten, ’specially when we’re reunited. S’never enough with you. Keep me up all night–satisfy your every need–but then yeh right back on me in the mornin’. Insatiable, you are.”

“If I’m insatiable, what’s that make you?!” Sure, he was right; you liked a few sleepless nights upon reunion, enjoyed testing the limits of your bodies, but it’s not like he protested. It’s not like he didn’t want to explore your body, relearn your inner workings mind, body and soul and try a few new things, too.

“Sex slave. At your every beck and call, kitten.” He was pleased with himself, grinning ear-to-ear as he teased you.

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