three vases

w: cuz being trained in combat is like, totally cheating

W: oh, so having talent and cultivating through hard work is cheating now?

w: you fucking raised your aura against me!

W: you broke three fucking vases on my head!

w: you broke my arm!

W: you ran into a wall, moron!

w: you tripped me!

W: its not my fault you get tangled up in your own legs you gangly brat

W: why dont you go train your pathetic aura

w: eugh, what do you think i am, a barbarian?

W: “oh no! i never thought id get my face smashed in by going into fights with absolutely zero defence against enemies who can smash my face in!”

W: -thats you, you fool.

The Witchy Thing's Favorite Witchy Tips #1

1- Make yourself a Pinterest account. They have a few basic witch tips available, but more importantly you can find a tutorial for almost anything on that site! Having trouble painting glass? There’s a tutorial for that. Can’t find a good recipe for the coming holiday/offering? Recipes galore! Even gardening tips, and possibly best of all you can find tons of printable scrapbook pages and stationary which are amazing for your Book of shadows, all for free!

2- Check out your local thrift shops. I just hit my favorite shop today and came home with a new incense burner, three vases for herbs I want to grow in water, a picture frame that’s going to be my new scrying mirror and two ridiculously cute jars all for about $8. You can’t beat thrift shops when it comes to finding witchy jars, and it doesn’t matter that it’s used, you should cleanse things before using them anyway.

3- Drop the stigma surrounding buying witchy things from places like the dollar store. Most of us aren’t rich, and we can’t all afford hand sculpted candles for $10 a pop. Support witchy shops on places like Etsy when you can, but if you buy from the dollar store it does not make you less of a witch.

4- Speaking of hand sculpted candles, you know you can melt down your used candles to make new ones right? See number 1.
Frostbit (Peter Parker x Female!Reader)

A/N: So this is my first fanfic like ever and I’m really proud of it I just hope you guys like it! I intend for this to be a series (as for how long, who knows), but please let me know if you want it to continue. Suggestions and constructive criticism is welcome!

**the format of this doesn’t have (Y/N) yet because it’s supposed to be from Peter’s POV (except for one part) but in the third person also I was too lazy to change the format I wrote it in lol but the next part will have the (Y/N) format so it will feel more like a Peter x reader type of thing

Warnings: violence (there’s quite a bit of action in this, but no one’s seriously hurt though)

Part 2

     Glass exploded onto the ground as the bat broke through the case.

    “Hey! Careful! You don’t wanna break the very thing we came here for,” a masked robber fumed. His partner turned around and shrugged. He grabbed the dirty terra cotta vase from among the glass shards. 

    Peter looked down from where he stuck to the upper corner of the exhibit, both amused and confused. Why lock up some dirty old vase? He thought. Why bother robbing it, there’s so many more valuable looking things all around here anyway! Like that old gold cup over there, or that cool sword—oh Ned would like that one.

    He was about to jump down to voice his questions to the petty thieves, when something moved in the hallway across the room. A girl’s head peeked out from behind the wall, unseen by all but Peter. Dressed in all black sweater, pants, shoes, and a weird-looking light-colored mask, she dashed to the sword display case, braced herself against it, then checked back to the robbers again. She sped behind another display case, then another, and another, slowly creeping closer to the thieves. It was here, Peter noticed she had an odd-looking mask covering her face. When she got to a giant ceramic jar, just a few paces away from them, she stopped and stood, turning to face them and crossing her arms.

    “Hey boys,” she called out.

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Royalty - Nolan Patrick

in which a top prospect learns what it’s really like to be royalty

for anon

lowercase intended

word count: 1900

warnings: none

a/n: i’m like just now realizing that my titles or descriptions like never have anything to do with the actual imagine, whoops. anon asked for fluff and i hope this works; it’s more cute than fluff but y’know. also ignore the fact that his sister most definitely does not have two kids that i made names up for

Originally posted by laurastacey

you awoke to the sound of your phone vibrating on the nightstand. groggily, you checked the time: six-thirty am. who could be calling you this early in the morning? you squinted as the light of your phone momentarily blinded your sleepy eyes.

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you are my sunshine

[on ao3]

Draco had been humming the same song for the past few days. You Are My Sunshine. It was a muggle song that his father would have disapproved him of knowing, but Harry rubbed off on him. Draco supposed that the only bad thing about it was that he couldn’t remember the last verse, and he was stuck singing the same bits over and over again. It irked him and he hummed it over and over again, feeling the final verse, the closure, on the tip of his tongue.

*     *     *

Draco was on the Hogwarts Express, returning to school for his final year. It was going to be miserable. He could already tell. There were Death Eaters lurking in every compartment of the train, hexing and cursing any student they didn’t like. Dementors hovered at every door, making the long ride to Scotland cold and miserable. Draco didn’t even want to be back here, not after last year, but he had no choice. He fixed his prefect badge on his outer robe and set off to patrol and pretend he enjoyed torturing terrified looking first years.

Starting at the prefect’s compartment in the front of the train, Draco took a slow stroll, looking for Potter and his cronies. The year was going to be miserable as fuck, but at least Potter, the one constant in his life, would be there. Draco didn’t know why his biggest rival would make this shit year any better, but he knew Potter would. Longbottom and the rest of Potter’s freak friends were in the last compartment, but Potter was nowhere to be found.

“Where’s Potter?” Draco demanded.

“It’s none of your business, is it?” Longbottom retorted. Draco snorted. He didn’t think the pathetic Gryffindor had it in him to ever talk back. “You slimy, Death Eater git.”

“Detention, Longbottom,” Draco sneered. Who did the bastard think he was? And where was Potter? “Six o’clock, in the dungeons. Two weeks.”

“We’re not even at the school,” the She-Weasel snarled. “You can’t do that.”

“Watch me, Weasley,” Draco jeered. “Say another word and you can join the blundering idiot.” The red-headed bint whipped out her wand from her sleeve but one of Potter’s freak friends held her back. “Now,” Draco continued. “Where’s Potter?”

“He’s not here,” Loony Lovegood said simply. “He’s gone away on a vacation.” Away? Where to? Why?

“Couldn’t return after the idiot headmaster died?” Draco bluffed. “Some coward, the Boy Who Lived.” Draco slammed the compartment door shut and stalked away. Draco heard a soft humming fading away as he walked back to the prefects’ car. Loony Lovegood.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are grey
You never know, dear, how much I love you
Please don’t take my sunshine away

There wasn’t any more point in patrolling. Potter wasn’t here. The single constant in his life wasn’t here to ground him. Nothing mattered anymore.

*     *     *

Harry’s old record sang Draco to sleep.

The other night dear, as I lay sleeping
I dreamed I held you in my arms
But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken
So I hung my head and I cried

Sunlight bled through their pale-yellow curtains. It poked at Draco’s eyes, urging him awake. He sighed in exasperation and shifted around to face his back to the light when he felt a heavy load on his body: an arm. Tan and scarred, lean but muscular: Harry. Harry! He was back from the Auror mission! Draco’s eyes flew open and he sat up in their large bed and Harry groaned softly at the sudden lack of warmth (Draco) and felt around for the blanket. Draco’s lips pulled up to a wide smile. He reached down and pressed his lips onto Harry’s. Draco showered light nips and kisses all around Harry’s lips and stubbly jaw, running his fingers through Harry’s coarse hair and Harry’s lips widened into a smile. Draco pulled himself up to get a better look at his husband—the one he hadn’t seen in three months. Harry’s hair was as untamed as ever, stubbles peppered along his jaw. Harry slowly opened his eyes, and as soon as Draco was about to see his brilliant green, everything faded away.

Draco woke with cold sweat matting his hair to his forehead. The night was dark, bare moonlight icy and blue. The bed was too large and sheets cold. Tears crept to his eyes, and soon, Draco was crying again. Harry wasn’t here. He hadn’t been for the past three months. Draco was alone.

*     *     *

Draco and Harry had been married for two years. They’d had their ups and downs and went through a lot of happiness and hardships together. They were together and happy.

“I can’t believe you.”

“Draco, please.”

“No. Didn’t we establish this? Didn’t we already have a talk about how I absolutely abhor undercover auror assignments, Harry?” Draco was livid. Harry took up on another undercover case. This was the fifth since they started seeing each other (second after they got married) and it was the longest one yet.

“Two months, Harry. For two fucking months, I won’t know anything. I won’t know where you are, if you’ve eaten or slept, if you’re sick or well. Hell, I won’t even know if you’re alive, Harry,” Draco snarled. “And you expect me to understand? To let you do this?”


“No.” Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and shushed his husband. “I don’t want to hear any more. You’re only going to make me more mad. Stop talking.” And he did. Harry did seem sorry, but Draco didn’t care. He didn’t want Harry gone for so long, not even knowing if he was alive or dead. Draco fell into the pale sofa behind him and tightly wound his limbs together, shooting glares at Harry. He was furious that Harry took up another undercover case after the three-hour lecture last time and without even consulting Draco. He was furious that Harry took up another undercover case and was missing their three-year anniversary. But mostly, Draco was furious that Harry was purposely subjecting himself to extreme danger. Draco kept his eyes burning with rage, lips pursed thin. Harry didn’t dare approach him.

The silence stretched on for an uncomfortable length of time, and Harry began to sing softly.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are grey
You never know, dear, how much I love you
Please don’t take my sunshine away

Draco stiffly turned to look at Harry. “Didn’t I ask you not to talk? One would usually assume that such a request would extend to singing.” Harry chewed on his lower lip and moved next to Draco. He sat straight, hands fidgeting in his lap, knees bouncing from nervousness.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” Harry began. “I should have talked to you before I took the case, and I’m sorry I even did. I know how much you hate undercover cases.” Harry brushed a lock of hair away from Draco’s eyes and turned Draco’s face toward Harry. “This is really important to me, but I should have taken your opinions into account first. I’m really sorry, Draco.”

“I just don’t that you keep subjecting yourself to danger,” Draco said softly. “I know that sweeping up the rest of the Death Eaters is important but I can’t stand that you’d leave everything behind for it.”

“I’m not—”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Draco loosened the tension in his body and crawled closer to Harry and immediately felt him relax. Harry looped his arms around Draco and kissed the crown of his head.

“What was that song you were singing?” Harry gave a light chuckle.

“Muggle song,” Harry said. “It’s called You Are My Sunshine. My grade school teacher used to play it a lot in class.”

“I’ve heard it before, I think. I didn’t like it then, but I like it now,” Draco murmured.

“I was hoping you would.” Harry was lightly stroking Draco’s arm. Draco looked up at his husband.

“Teach me it?”

“Why not, Sunshine?” Harry smirked playfully.

“Oh, sod off.” Draco gave Harry a light shove. He merely laughed and pulled Draco closer, giving him a peck on the cheek.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too.”

*     *     *

Draco walked down Diagon Alley. He was dressed in sleek, dark green robes that Harry had gotten him on their first anniversary. Draco had his wand at ready (albeit in his robe sleeve) in case someone was to try and hex him. He walked confidently but briskly to his destination: Fabienne’s Flowers.

Today was the two month mark since Harry left for the case. Today was the day he was coming home. Draco bought a large bouquet for his return, daintily arranged with lilies and roses and forget-me-nots. Many other flowers decorated the bouquet and Draco loved every single one of them.

“They’ll stay fresh until the person this is intended for receives it,” the old lady told him. “Then they’ll become regular flowers and will wilt when their time comes.” Draco paid for the flowers, thanked the lady, and walked back home, humming You Are My Sunshine. It’d been stuck in Draco’s head for the past two months. He didn’t mind it though. It reminded Draco of Harry.

I’ll always love you and make you happy
If you will only say the same
But if you leave me to love another
You’ll regret it all one day

Draco came home and put the bouquet in a vase. He knew it wouldn’t wilt, but Draco wanted everything to look nice for when Harry came home. Draco cleaned up their flat, cooked an elaborate meal (despite the fact that Draco’s cooking skills were nowhere close to Harry’s), and waited for his husband to return home. But he didn’t.

And Harry didn’t return the next day. Or the next week. Or the next month.

The flowers remained fresh in the crystal vase.

*     *     *

Draco picked up the bouquet from the vase exactly three months and twelve days after he bought it. He grabbed his wand and Apparated to where Harry was.

“I missed you so much,” Draco said. “Every day of the five months you were gone.” He laid the bouquet on Harry’s grave. “And every day that’s to come in my future.” My future, not ours, because you aren’t here anymore.

The funeral had taken place a month ago, but Draco did not attend. He had been too grief-stricken and in denial of Harry’s death. Draco sat at home, lying in bed, doing nothing but sleeping and singing, only eating when Pansy or Hermione forced him to. Draco told them that he would visit Harry’s grave when he could remember the last verse of You Are My Sunshine. The record was smashed when Draco learned of the news, and he couldn’t listen to the song anymore. Hermione had taken pity and offered to tell him herself, but he declined; it was the last memory Draco had with Harry, and he was determined to remember it himself.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are grey
You never know, dear, how much I love you
Please don’t take my sunshine away

“I remembered the last verse, Harry,” Draco said softly. “I wanted to sing the whole song for you when you got home. I guess I’m a month late, Sunshine.” Draco’s eyes watered and moments later, he was sobbing loudly on Harry’s grave.

“Please don’t leave me, Harry,” Draco cried. “Don’t leave me, Sunshine.” Draco’s face turned red and he choked on air, desperately holding onto Harry’s grave. Sharp pains resonated throughout Draco’s chest, but he gave out a weak sputter of laughter when he saw the flowers that had been fresh for five months beginning to dry.

Please don’t take my sunshine away

I wrote most of this at ~12-4am, so it kind of sucks. sorry about that.

for sale: baby shoes, never worn. will accept adult shoes as payment. our baby has giant feet. he keeps tripping over them and has broken three vases so far. please help

  • Adrien: Trust fall!
  • Marinette: *drops everything that she's holding, knocks down the elderly, breaks three vases, and shoves a stroller into the street* I GOTCHA! *catches Adrien*
  • ×××
  • Chat Noir: Trust fall!
  • Ladybug: ...

Blue + White + French

In September 1686 in Versailles’ Hall of Mirrors, Louis XIV received a Siamese delegation bearing gifts. The Siamese ambassadors stayed in France through the next year, captivating the French at court and in Paris.

“Exotic” Asian lacquer and porcelain was already in fashion in Europe, and a new trend for “Siamese” textiles now took France by storm.

Louis XIV’s son and brother were among the greatest proponents of lachinage (a made-up word meaning roughly “Chineseing”), the fad for all things Asian that would come to be known as chinoiserie in the subsequent century. Some rooms in Versailles were said to be “more Oriental than the Orient itself.” 

Pictured here: a garniture of three Japanese vases; two Chinese lidded vases; and a French writing table inspired by blue-and-white porcelain.

Pshhhhh people who think Jason would be the troublemaker between him and Tim.
If those two had grown up together, Tim would be getting into scrape after scrape and not only get out of it, but get JASON in trouble.
Like can you imagine how many time outs Tim earned and Jason got them instead?? So like six year old Jason is in the corner all pouty and angry at Tim who booked it to the library. And Bruce feels SO bad because Jay won’t talk to him for HOURS after his time out (and when Bruce goes to read Jason a bedtime story he ignores him) and it just breaks Bruce’s heart (“Am I a bad father? I’m a bad father. I’m unworthy” “Master Bruce, one time out does not determine one’s parental worthiness”)
Meanwhile Tim has climbed three bookshelves, broke one vase and hid the evidence, and gone stair surfing with Dick.

Imagine Lindir helping you learn your duties as a new member of Lord Elrond's staff

For @theartofeheheh


This is it. You take a deep breath and start walking towards the gate. You had just said goodbye to your family and you are ready to start your new life as a member in Lord Elrond’s staff. It was a great honor and your parents couldn’t be more proud of you but you were afraid. You didn’t want to disappoint your family or Lord Elrond.

You were an assistant of some sorts. You had to make sure the food was served, the papers were taken to right elf, the office of Lord Elrond was always clean, you had to help the cooks, to make sure there were always fresh flowers and much more.  You didn’t even know where to start.

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Set “Classics of the genre”. Addition

The composition set includes: bookshelf tricuspid with built-in decor,  bookshelf two-folding with built-in decor, shelves for books, coffee table, end table, books - four variants, vase - three variants,  picture - two variants.  For dense filling of the bookshelf is recommended turn on “bb.moveobjects”.

Набор мебели и декора “Классика жанра”. Продолжение. В состав сета входят: шкаф трехстворчатый со встроенным декором, шкаф двустворчатый со встроенным декором, книжная полка, стол кофейный, столик, книги - четыре варианта, вазы - три варианта, картины - два варианта. Для плотного заполнения книжной полки декором рекомендуется включить  “bb.moveobjects”.