way out of my price range

anonymous asked:

i just started using watercolors, can you tell me about your process/share some tips?

Well first of all, congrats on trying watercolors! I’m by no means an expert yet but I’ll do my best to walk you through my process using some of the WIP pictures I have from previous pieces. There’s a ton to cover and I won’t get it all so feel free to ask more specific questions if you need help. 

My first tip would be to play with whatever tools you have to figure out what feels right for you. If you don’t have any tools yet, I suggest the Sakura Koi Pocket Field Sketch Box (pictured below) since it’s really nice quality, comes with a water brush, and usually costs like $15-$25 depending on size/where you buy it. If that’s still outside of your price range, the first watercolors I ever did were with old crayola palettes and it worked out fine, it just took way more layers and time to get the color depth I wanted.

As for paper, I’m still looking for the perfect one but just make sure it’s watercolor paper (cold press means there’s a texture, hot press is smooth) or multimedia and not like, printer paper. As long as it’s relatively thick, it should be ok but might buckle when too much water is added.

Don’t worry too much about perfection when learning how to use your equipment. Make lines, blend colors, try making washes, etc. When I came back to watercolors, I mostly did a lot of meditative painting, where I doodled whatever felt right. Some of them even came out real cool looking?? 

When I sit down to do a more detailed piece or commission, I have a five-part process I pretty consistently use these days. It goes like this: 

1) Traditional (or digital) sketch/concept phase. The below pic is from a pop-art commission concept where I really liked the flow of her hair.

2) Digital lineart (cleaning up/refining concept sketches)

3) Print the lineart and lightbox it to watercolor paper using either a hard graphite pencil (very light lines) or colored lead. I still lightbox with this ancient hunk of junk but you can even use a window or your computer screen (VERY CAREFULLY) to lightbox if you don’t have one. 

Here’s what some of my pieces looks like after being transferred: 

I think it’s important to note that you should keep a piece of scrap paper under your hand while working on the watercolor paper, since the oils in your skin can lead to areas where the paint won’t bind to the paper properly. I’ve had cases where I finished a background wash only to find an absolutely perfect thumbprint in the center of it. 

4) Ink the lines. Make sure your pens are waterproof. If they’re not, I’ll talk about a way to get around that later so skip right to painting for now. 

I used micron technical pens for the above piece. If you don’t know if you have waterproof pens, make a test chart like the one below. Mine involved copics, watercolor, and super heavy scrubbing to see how easily the pen came off when wet. 

I’ve also “inked” after painting by using more concentrated lines of watercolor instead of actual ink. The below painting was too cute and pastel and I didn’t want to ruin it with black lines, so I used that technique here (along with some red pencil)

5) Paint! I’m not really consistent with this step but my main tip is: BE PATIENT! If you want flat blocks of color, wait until each wash is fully dry before moving on to one next to it. If you don’t, they’ll bleed into each other. This is also true when trying to create shadows with hard edges instead of soft blending. Not being patient enough is my #1 cause of “crap I have to start this over”.

(The weird coloration on the lines above is actually dried frisket I put over certain sections of the piece to protect them but it ended up being more of a hassle than anything else for this style of piece.)

So, what if you didn’t have waterproof pens? You can easily reverse steps 4&5 and paint first, wait for it to dry very well, and then ink (shown below). 

The finished piece looked like this: 

I hope this was helpful!

If you want to see any of my WIPs/ask me questions, you can find me on Twitter and Instagram

Also, my commission slots are open and if you like my work and want to leave me a tip, you can always buy me a coffee :)

You Are In My Heart.

Prompts: “I don’t want to have a baby.” “Go then, leave! See if I care!”

Relationship: Lovers and Exs

Fandom: Young Justice

Character: Kaldur and Wally

Warning: Kaldur is an ass in this fic.

A/N: This fic wasn’t met to turn out the way it did. But it snowballed and I feel in love with how it turned out.

You swore that your heart broke with Kaldur’s words.

“I don’t want to have a baby.”


You had just told your fiancé Kaldur that you were pregnant which was a surprise seeing as you were an alien and he was an Atlantean. You thought that he would be happy at the fact that the two of you were having a child. Yes, earlier than you thought but still, instead he told you that he didn’t want the child growing inside of you. Then his com went off, he answered it and gave you a look. The team needed him.

“Go then, leave! See if I care!” You turned away from him, Kaldur left without a goodbye, the door closing sounding that he was gone from the apartment and for you out of your life. You packed up anything you needed in a suitcase called Wally since he was one of your closest friends and you knew he had a free room ever since Artemis and he broke up.

“Y/N. Hey, what’s up?” Wally asked as he answered your call.

“Hey, Walls. You still looking for a roommate?” You asked.

“Ya. Why you got someone looking to move out here?”

“Ya.”

“Who?”

“Me.” There was a pause as you when through the apartment getting anything you needed. After a minute Wally started to talk.

“What about Kaldur? You two are engaged and I thought living together?”

“Something happened that I don’t want to talk about over the phone. Can I stay for a bit?”

“Sure. I’ll fix up the guest room for you.”

“Thank you, Wally. You are the best.”

“Anything for you doll.” You smiled lightly as you finished getting everything together. You set your bags at the door, you when to the coffee table and wrote out a letter to Kaldur. Once you finished the letter you slipped silver engagement ring off your finger and set it with the letter. All you dreams with Kaldur had disappeared that afternoon. But you wouldn’t blame it on the baby, they hadn’t done anything wrong. You left your key to the apartment on the coffee table as well, there was no point in happening it. Picking up your bags you head out of the apartment building, getting a cab you gave the driver direction to zeta tube close by. Will it was a few blocks off to make it look they you were going to a pizza shop. Once you paid the man and got your bags you walked down the five blocks and unlocking the door to a building with a code you walked in. The building was empty, dust covered every surface, the windows were reinforced and tinted. You headed to the very back room and stood on the platform.

Keep reading

Help Me Get The Girl Part 6 (Grayson Mini-Series)

Description: Grayson seeks out your help to get your friend to fall for him.  In exchange for your help, Grayson promises to take care of your freshman brother when it comes to being bullied.  What you two didn’t know is that even though helping each other would ideally be beneficial, there would be a series of events that would make you two question whether this was a good deal or a disaster in the making.

Word Count: 2,897

Warnings: Language

A/N: Hello there!  I’m like 10x less sick so I finally got this written!  The two songs mentioned in this part are Tenerife Sea and One by Ed Sheeran.  TWO OF MY FAVORITE SONGS EVER!  I really hope you like this part because it’s a very special one that I have been thinking about for a long time. (not my gif)

Your POV:

My feet felt like they were filled with sand, weighed down to the ground so that I couldn’t move them.  My eyes traveled back and forth from Ethan to Grayson.  Their faces mirror each other, both holding an expression of disbelief. This had seemingly been an unexpected even for all three of us.

My hands reached up to brush lightly against my lips, still unsure if the kiss had actually happened.  Ethan took a small step toward us but quickly changed his mind, an uneasy sigh escaping his lips. This silence was unsettling, it was breathless, it was suffocating.  I wanted to break the ice.  I wanted to end whatever was happening right now.  But I didn’t know what to say, so I spoke the truth.  The brutal, honest truth that I didn’t want to utter.

“This is why I asked you not to touch me.” I forced out.  I blinked back tears as I pushed my way past Ethan without looking back.  My bottom lip was tucked in between my teeth, the pressure almost strong enough to draw blood.  I knew that if I left right now, it would be obvious that something had happened.  I knew that if I stayed it would be awkward for the three of us.  

I chose to stay and try to ignore that the situation even happened.  As I joined the rest of the group, I took my place next to Grace, noticing that my drink was right where Ethan promised it’d be. I reached down for it, my throat had started to feel extremely dry.  Out of the corner of my eye I could see that Grace was giving me a questioning look, but I ignored it, downing every last bit of the Dr. Pepper that had been poured for me.  For some reason, maybe due to tonight’s events flustering me, I thought it would be alcohol, but it wasn’t—it was a school night.  God, did I wish it was alcohol.

“Dude, are you good?” Grace’s voice brought me back to reality. “I’ve never seen anyone down a soda that fast.” She let out a small, yet uneasy chuckle.

Awkwardly, I set down my cup, plastering a fake smile on my face.  “Yeah, I’m just really thirsty.” It wasn’t a lie.

“Why are your eyes all red?  Were you crying?” her expression changed from humored to concerned in a snap.  “What’s wrong?”

“Oh!” I said much louder than I intended, “I rubbed my eyes and a speck of mascara flaked off my eyelashes and into my eyes.  I kept trying to get it out and by time I finally did my eyes were like waterfalls.  They’re so easily irritated.” I rambled off at a nearly unattainable speed.

Her mouth formed an ‘oh’ and she nodded her head.  “Girl I’ve had that happen.  It’s the worst!” and with that everything turned back to normal.  “Where are Gray and E?  I have something to ask of you guys.”

“We’re right here!” Ethan’s voice caught our attention.  Grayson was trailing behind him, avoiding all eye contact with me.  Ethan took a seat next to me, his hand resting on my thigh, giving me a reassuring squeeze.  I placed my hand on top of his, absentmindedly lacing our fingers together.  Grayson who had taken a seat next to Grace stared at our connected hands, his eyebrows pulled together, his jaw clenched as tight as it could be.

“So what did you need, Grace?” I asked, my eyes focusing back on my friend.

“Okay, so, as you all know, my father has his company’s annual charity ball coming up.” She eyed us with hope.  “And at this ball there is always a dance performed like you know back in the day, all those classical Victorian era moves and shit.”

“Yeah…” I trailed off, “And we all said no to attending already.” I reminded her, knowing exactly where this was going.

She held up her hand to stop me, “Just hear me out.  The performance company set to perform has dropped out due to an overscheduling issue.  We contacted a local dance studio who offered to fill in, but there are still a few spots that need to be filled.  My sister and her boyfriend offered to join which means we only need two more couples.”

“No.  No!” I stood up.  “No way in hell am I dancing in front of hundreds of people at the community’s biggest charity ball.  Our community’s ONLY charity ball!”

Ethan raised his hand, “I’m going to have to second this.  I’ve got two left feet.  You and Gray can do it.  He’s pretty good at picking up new things.”

Grayson shrugged, “I’m down for whatever.”

“There you go!” I gestured to Grayson without looking at him.  “You only have one more couple to find!  One step closer.”

Grace’s hand went to her forehead, massaging right above her eyes, “Y/n, please. It’s just one night.  We learn the dance tomorrow; the ball is this weekend! Please, as a friend, do this for me.” She gave me puppy eyes.  Of course she would pull the ‘as a friend’ card.  

“I don’t have a ball gown, Grace!  Ethan can’t dance for shit!  And tomorrow I have a family gathering in the evening, I can’t make the practice!  You’re going to have to find someone else.” Each word I spoke was the truth.  I’ve seen the way Ethan moves, he can’t keep with the beat very well.  He would need someone truly experienced to make it successful.

“We can get you a gown on Thursday or Friday.  I’ll dance with Ethan; I’ve done this plenty of times and you can dance with Grayson.  Grayson can come to practice and then teach you some other time!” For the first time since he’d been outside with us, I looked at Grayson who was equally as shocked as me.  “Right, Gray?” she batted her eyelashes.

In my mind I kept begging her to stop.  Stop batting your damn eyelashes.

“Y- yeah.” He stuttered.

“Then it’s settled!” she clapped her hands together and squealed.

My wide eyes settled on Ethan who shrugged, giving in all too easily.  I closed my eyes in frustration, accepting my fate.  As if things couldn’t get worse, I now have to attend a ball with Grayson Bailey Dolan as my dance partner.

——————————————————————————————-

“How about this one?” Grace held up a long, light pink dress.  It looked like something a 5-year-old would wear while playing dress up.  Grace and I had complete opposite taste in clothing.  She was all about purples, pinks, light yellows, etc. which is fine, but I was more of a darker colors person, not too many frilly things on it. I knew that by the end of the day we would have to find a happy medium.  Something that was a darker color, but still had a bit of lace or sparkle on it to make her happy.

“I’m not a child, Grace.  No thanks.” I snipped, turning back to the rack.

“You’re hard to please.” She complained, dramatically hanging it back up.

I rolled my eyes, “You think I’m hard to please because you’re pulling out dresses that you would wear, not me.”

“Fine!” she grunted, “If we’re fitting your style you can get this one!” she held up a dress that looked like it had been designed back in the late 50’s. It was a plum purple and looked like an outfit that an evil step mother would wear.  I waved it off, a small smile dancing on my lips as she laughed, shoving it back in with the rest of the dresses.

We continued to rummage through the dresses, finding nothing that I liked and I was starting to think that I should just settle, it was only going to be one night. The selection wasn’t huge because we were in the clearance section.  I couldn’t afford anything too expensive so we were in the dresses under $500 whereas Grace’s was probably over $10,000 I’m sure.

I ran my finders down the line of dresses, my eyes seeing Grace drift over to the more expensive dresses.  My pace started to pick up to stop her from falling in love with a dress that was out of my limits, but I was too late.  I heard her gasp as she approached a mannequin.

“It’s perfect for you.” She said in awe, her hands pulling the fabric out for examination.

I stopped next to her, realizing that she was right.  There was no way that I couldn’t fall in love with this dress. It was a darker shade of gray that almost looked black.  It had a weaved bodice which is what I’m sure attracted Grace to it.  The skirt area consisted of numerous layers of soft tulle material that ranged from a nearly black shade to a lighter gray.  

My hands grasped the price tag and immediately let go once I saw the price. “Grace, $9,000!  No way!  I can’t afford this!”

“Just try it on!” she begged.  “We NEED to know what it looks like on.”

I sighed, “Fine.”

“Ma’am!” Grace called the employee over, “My friend would like to try this on!”

           A couple minutes later, I was stood in front of a mirror, my heart racing faster than it ever had.  Not only because I was wearing something worth more than my car, but because I had never felt that beautiful before.

           “Oh, Y/n, you look beautiful!  I told you this was the dress!” she fluffed the skirt up.

           “It’s gorgeous.” I mumbled.  “I can’t afford it though.” I turned to get a view of what it looked like to the side.  My hand moved down the fabric on my abdomen.

           “You don’t have to pay for it.  While you were changing I asked my dad if we could get it for you.  Of course he said yes, he loves you!  After all you’ve done for me—this is nothing.” She paused for a beat, “I can’t ever repay you for all you’ve done for me.  So, please let us do this for you.”

           “I can’t let you.  It’s only one night.  It’s not worth spending $9,000 for one night.” But she didn’t listen to me.  Before I could stop her, she had pulled a credit card out of her purse, ripped the price tag off of the dress, and left the dressing room area.


——————————————————————————————-

It was Friday night, the last day before the ball.  I had to go to learn the dance with Grayson and I was dreading it. We hadn’t spoken since the kiss and we were both avoiding each other as much as possible.  I rang the doorbell which wasn’t like me, I was always one to just let myself into their place.  Grayson opened the door, moving to let me in.

My steps into the house were slow and hesitant.   I was slow enough that he shut the door and walked past me.  I followed behind, leaving a good amount of distance between the two of us.  He reached and grabbed a Bluetooth speaker off of the counter and went to the back door. Again, he opened the door for me and let me out first like the gentleman he was.  He shut the door and walked down the patio steps onto the grass.  He went to the center of the yard, placing the speaker down, gesturing for me to join him.

“Take your shoes off.” He instructed as he did so.

I slid my feed out of my sandals, my eyes still locked onto his.  I kicked them to the side to give us plenty of room. “Why do did I need to take my sandals off?” I asked.

“It will be easier for our feet to move against the grass.” He explained, pulling his cell phone out from his pocket.  “So, luckily, Grace got her father to agree to a modern song rather than one sounding like it was set in the Victorian era.  We’re going to be dancing to Tenerife Sea by Ed Sheeran.”

“That’s my favorite song.” I said under my breath.

“Yeah, I know.” He flashed a small smile that disappeared all too soon.  “So first we’re going to go through the steps in bits, then we’re going to put them all together, then we’ll dance to the music. Sound good?”

“Do I really have a choice?” I chuckled.

“Nah.” He grinned back at me.  “Okay, stay there, I’m going to take a few steps back from you.” He strolled backwards till there were about 5 feet between us.  “First we are going to turn to the side, facing opposite directions and take 4 steps forward.  I’ll give us a tempo.” He started to snap his fingers.  “You’re going to step-pause.” I mimicked him for the 4 steps.  And from there it just got more complicated.

Grayson was a pretty good teacher and never went on without making sure that I had gotten the steps down.  We worked through the dance a few times, my mess ups lessening each time.  It was nice that he was encouraging the whole time, especially the parts where we were so close you could barely fit a credit card in-between the two of us.

“Are you ready to put it to music?” he asked, picking his phone up off the ground. I nodded my head, taking a deep breath. “Don’t worry, you’ll do great and don’t forget that we start right when the music begins.”  Again I nodded and got into my position.

He nodded to me before pressing play.  Instantly I froze and didn’t move.  He noticed right away and stopped the music.  “You can do it.  Don’t over think it, okay?” he encouraged me gently before we reset ourselves.  The music started again and I found myself moving to the beat of the intro successfully.  Grayson sent me a small smile before we switched directions to take four steps back to our original spots.

You look so wonderful in your dress
I love your hair like that
The way it falls on the side of your neck
Down your shoulders and back 

I followed the movements he had instructed me to do, our eyes remaining on each other’s.  We slowly moved closer to each other and with each step my breathing got deeper.

We are surrounded by all of these lies
And people who talk too much
You got the kind of look in your eyes
As if no one knows anything but us

Our hands raised, leaving about an inch between them as we started to turn in a circle.  We repeated this movement in the opposite direction before he took my hand into his, his other hand resting against my lower back, pulling me closer to him.

Should this be the last thing I see
I want you to know it’s enough for me
‘Cause all that you are is all that I’ll ever need

           We started to move in sync, him taking the lead, knowing that I was still nervous as hell.  I found myself squeezing his hand a little tighter.  His thumb was making small movements against my back to comfort me. Let me tell you… it was working.

I’m so in love, so in love
So in love, so in love

           Our pace started to pick up with the chorus.  We started to waltz as we moved in circles on the open space.  I could feel how easily we glided over the grass without our shoes on. As we continued to move Grayson’s grip on my hand loosened as he said “turn now” and I followed his instruction.  Our fingers danced together as my body twirled around to resume its position against his.

           We continued to dance, our eyes never leaving each other’s.  Each lyric made me realize just how much I loved being this close to him.  The words spoke to me in a way that they had never done before.  Because if this was the last moment I had in my life, it would completely be enough for me.

           As the song came to an end our bodies slowed to a pause and his hand lifted to my neck, his thumb brushing against my jawline.  His touch sent a fire through my skin, a pleasurable warmth that was so addictive.  He leaned forward and pressed his lips against my forehead, letting them linger longer than I had expected.  He pulled me closer to him again as his phone shuffled the songs on the album and started to play another Ed Sheeran song called One.

           And we swayed to the music, my hand in his again and my head resting against his chest.  A single tear rolled down my cheek, the patio lights the only thing lighting up my face in the now dark night.  So I closed my eyes and enjoyed the moment that I would never get again.  The moment that made me feel like I was actually enough for someone.

All my senses come to life
While I’m stumbling home as drunk as I
Have ever been and I’ll never leave again
'Cause you are the only one
And all my friends have gone to find
Another place to let their hearts collide
Just promise me, you’ll always be a friend
'Cause you are the only one


——————————————————————————————-

This took a while I know and I’m super sorry.  I’m interested who you want the reader to be with after this part :)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

vetralesbiannyx  asked:

prompt: jimon + childhood friends AU !! always like those, and i always wonder how that would like... impact jace and simon if they had been childhood friends from the start

best friends for a long time is my ultimate weakness <3

“Hey.” Jace says, inviting himself into Simon’s room and sprawling onto his desk chair. “‘Sup?”

Simon’s lying on his bed, earphones half in, and he glares at Jace as hard as he can - which isn’t much, given the fact that his mind is currently drowning in sorrow, and he just wants to curl up and die.

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t hear what happened. You’re here to gloat, aren’t you?” Simon snaps, and Jace shrugs. 

“I told you in fifth grade that that dude was bad news, it’s been seven years since then.” Jace reminds him. He’s looking at Simon’s posters now, not even looking at him as he says, softly, “You didn’t even think about listening to me.” 

“Sorry, yeah,” Simon bites out, “except he was the only one who invited me to prom and unlike you, I don’t have dates just lined up? So I can’t afford to be picky - “

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Jace says, exasperated, and Simon sits up in bed, furious, when Jace continues, “You would never let any one of us say that about ourselves, but you can say that about yourself? Anyone would be lucky to have you, Simon, you can’t settle.” 

Simon’s stunned into a furious silence, glaring petulantly at Jace, because Jace is right, and he hates that, hates that Jace knows him almost as well as Clary. And this boy, with his infuriatingly gorgeous body is nice to Simon in his own way, surprisingly sweet, and fuck it’s just not fair and it doesn’t help Simon get over the feelings he’s had for Jace for years. 

“Whatever.” Simon sighs, and flops back into bed. 

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Jace asks, and Simon rolls away from him so he doesn’t have to look at Jace sitting in his room like he belongs there. 

“You always are.” Simon says dully. 

There’s silence, and then the sound of Jace moving, the bed dipping as he sits near Simon. A tentative hand comes up to stroke his back, Jace’s long fingers burning a path through the thin material of Simon’s shirt. 

“You’ll be okay.” Jace says quietly. “You will.” 

“Like I was okay in middle school when Georgie Chen dumped her juice all over me for not being a cool enough date to the movies?” Simon asks wryly, and he hears Jace laugh, the small, throaty one that makes little dimples appear in Jace’s cheeks. 

“If I’m remembering correctly, I also dumped my juice over Georgie Chen for that, so I think that went fine.” Jace remarks, and Simon smiles at that, shaking his head as he sits up, sitting cross-legged on the bed and facing Jace. 

“Yeah, but that cemented your popularity. ‘Ooooh, I’m Jace Herondale, I’m too cool for the cool kids, I wore tiny leather jackets when I was in elementary school and my hair swishes in the wind like I’m in a commercial - “ Simon sings, adopting a falsetto and ducking as Jace throws a pillow at him, laughing. 

I’m Simon Lewis,” Jace says, deepening his voice and turning his nose up, “I corrected the math teacher in ninth grade and now I’m the math nerd and I know ever single Nicolas Cage movie like nobody’s business but I like to wear graphic tees and pretend I’m a punk rocker - “

“I’m a superstar and you know it.” Simon says, making finger guns. 

“Damn, and we’re all just along for the ride.” Jace says, propping his chin up in his hands and looking at Simon fondly. Simon grins, because Jace is his best friend, and maybe prom didn’t work out, but - he still has this, still gets this side of Jace that no one else gets to see. And that’s enough for him. 

.

Three weeks later, his phone shrilly and insistently rings, rousing him from his Brooklyn 99 marathon on prom night. He blinks down at the caller ID, frowning as he picks up. 

“Hey,” he greets Clary, “shouldn’t you be getting read to go to prom, Fray? Izzy’s picking you up soon, isn’t she?” 

Yes.” Clary says, and she sounds like she’s out of breath and running. “But change of plans, I’m getting ready at your house.” 

“Uh - “ Simon says, but then his front door rings and he slowly pauses the episode on his laptop as his sister goes to get it. 

“Clary?” Rebecca’s surprised voice echoes. Simon jumps up and runs to the front door, where he sees Clary lugging a huge duffel bag and two large dry-cleaning bags, whispering furiously to Rebecca. “Oh my god - yes, I approve - Mom’s not here - well, I’ll just do all the - yes, I love this plan!”

“What plan?” Simon asks immediately, narrowing his eyes at his sister and his best friend. “Don’t like the collusion that’s going on here, no, nope, betrayed by my very best friend in my house, under my roof - “

“No time for yapping, Simon.” Rebecca says impatiently, one hand on her hip as she makes a shooing motion. 

“She’s right.” Clary hums as she dumps the dry cleaning in his hands and tugs on his hands. “Come on, we’re already behind schedule.”

“Behind - what?” Simon asks, bewildered, as he follows her to his room. She throws the duffel on his bed and takes one of the bags, the plastic riding up to reveal the shimmery green dress he helped her pick out. “Clary, what?” He repeats helplessly. 

“You’re going to prom.” Clary says, beaming at him. “There’s someone that’s wanted for a very long time to go with you, and in a burst of bravery - and pain, because someone slapped some sense into them - they’ve decided to use the tickets they bought for the two of you and take you to prom!” 

“Who - what - you slapped someone into going to prom with me?” Simon blinks, feeling like he’s rapidly losing control of the situation. 

“Not me.” Clary says airily. “Though I wish I had. I promise its a good date, you’re definitely going to like it. Now go change into your suit, please.” 

Suit - “ Simon looks at the bag in his hands and slides the plastic up, revealing midnight-blue fabric. “Holy shit this is way out of my price range, where’d you get this?” 

“Magnus, of course. Raphael picked it out from Magnus’ selection.” Clary answers. She pauses, and then very seriously takes Simon’s hand. 

“Hey,” she says quietly, “trust me, okay? This person really likes you, and all of us think that they’ll be good for you. You’ll like them. Let me help you get ready?” 

“All of you guys?” Simon swallows. “Even Jace approves?” 

Jace, who’s notoriously hard to please; Jace, who’s obnoxiously insulted everyone who’s looked twice at Simon; Jace, who’s quietly helped Simon through every disappointment and made Simon fall harder and harder for him - 

“Even Jace.” Clary smiles. “Ready?” 

Simon’s silent for a second, looking at the suit and thinking about how even if it’s not with Jace, he deserves to be happy. Maybe he should give this mysterious suitor a chance. 

“Alright.” He answers finally, and can’t help but smile in response to Clary beaming at him. “Alright, alright, you win, Fray!” 

“Damn right I do!” She says, pleased with herself. “Now go.” 

Clary manages to get him and herself ready in record time, and they’re both dressed, hair styled, in less than forty minutes. Simon stares at the person in the mirror, and can’t quite believe it’s him. The suit fits like a dream, makes his legs look longer and his torso broader. Logically, he knows he’s not bad-looking, but the suit makes it much easier to feel that way too. He looks at his carefully coiffed hair, and he nods, sliding his glasses off. 

What are you doing?” Clary asks, slipping into her heels and fixing one of her earrings on. She looks gorgeous, impeccable in her makeup and curls, and Simon’s not sure what black magic she worked to get herself ready at the same time. “Keep your glasses on.”

“I look better with contacts?” Simon asks more than he says. He’s pretty sure that was the consensus among his friends. Clary shakes her head, smiling. 

“This person specifically told me to make sure you didn’t take them off, because - and I quote - they’re a part of you.” She says, and Simon can’t breathe for a long second, because that’s just about the most damn beautiful thing he’s ever heard, and it makes him feel like he could fly. 

“Okay,” he croaks out, sliding his glasses back on, “okay, this person’s a romantic.” 

“Hey,” Rebecca sticks her head into his room, “they’re all here, Simon’s date is ready.” 

“Finally.” Clary grabs her purse and moves to the door. “I’m gonna go out first, and you can follow right after, yeah?”

“Okay.” Simon says, his mouth suddenly dry and his hands clammy. Clary squeezes his shoulder before she takes off, and he’s left with just Rebecca. 

“Becks.” He says weakly, gesturing to himself. “I - “

“You look good, Si.” She says softly, smiling sadly at him. “You look just like Dad, you know. Except for the nose.” She taps his nose. “That’s Mom all the way.”

“Aw, Becks.” He says, flushing. 

“Don’t get sappy on me now.” She teases, and then she gestures to the hallway. “Well? Go find your date.” 

Simon nods, and bites his lips as he moves to the front door. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath with his hand on the door handle. 

This is going to be fine. This is going to be fine

He opens the door and looks out into the night; the path to the front door is lit brightly by the front porch lamp, white light glowing softly around a figure with soft blonde hair and unbearably adoring blue-brown eyes. 

“Hey,” Jace says, holding out a rose to Simon, a blinding smile on his face as he looks at Simon, “wanna go to prom with me?” 

Jace?” Simon croaks out, taking the rose numbly, his mind not quite comprehending. 

“I got it on very good authority that all the time I was pining, it wasn’t actually as hopeless as I thought? So, uh,” he gestures to Simon, “I wanted to give you the prom you deserve. And I want to - try to be the boyfriend you deserve. If you’d let me.” 

Jace is wearing a black suit with a tie to match Simon’s, his eyes hopeful and sincere. He looks good, like a dream out of some fairy tale, and more importantly - 

He’s the boy that hit Simon in the face with a basketball in fourth grade and then led him around school for the rest of the day, holding his hand, because Simon couldn’t see out of his swollen eye; he’s the boy that taught Simon how to play the guitar in middle school and encouraged him to try for his first gig; he’s the boy that stood by Simon through everything. Simon’s never felt this way about anyone. 

Heart in his throat, he steps forward and curls his fingers in Jace’s tie and yanks him forward, kissing him on the porch, slow and sweet as the crickets chirp around them. 

.

Six years later, Jace leads him on a walk through his old neighborhood. 

“Hey.” Simon says, nudging him as Jace shivers. “You’re thinking too hard.” He reaches over and tightens Jace’s scarf around his neck, his fingers lingering against the underside of Jace’s jaw. 

“You don’t think enough.” Jace responds, smirking, as he catches Simon’s wrist and tangles their fingers together, squeezing reassuringly. Simon hums and drives his foot down against a pile of dry leaves, relishing in the crunch that sounds from it. 

“Did you remember to drop the truck off at the mechanic?” Simon asks absently. Jace’s coffee truck is doing well enough to have expanded into two more trucks, run by his employees. 

“Yeah.” Jace abruptly stops, turning to look at Simon. “Hey, remember this wall?” 

Simon looks at it and laughs. It’s a little alley tucked away behind the driveways of the houses, and it’s got graffiti from the generations of kids that have lived there; Rebecca and her friends are by Simon and Clary’s heart with their initials in it, Jace’s barely legible scrawl across it all, with Izzy and Alec beneath that.

“I was so angry when you wrote over our names.” Simon recalls, and he squats down and traces over the heart he and Clary drew over their names when they were eleven. “Here Clary and I were, promising to marry each other when we grew up, and you just came in and scribbled all over it.”

“I was jealous.” Jace laughs a little. “I wanted to have all your attention, and instead she got it.” 

“You always had my attention.” Simon stands up and smiles at Jace, who grins and hooks his hands in Simon’s pockets to bring him closer, walking him backwards at the same time until they’re pressing against the wall, kissing softly. 

They break apart when they hear a car passing by, and make the trek to the Lewis house, bumping shoulders. 

“You think I can go back and scribble the heart out even more?” Jace wonders as they climb the front steps. “I don’t want our kids to one day find that Aunt Clary and Dad had a heart thing going on.” 

“Our kids?” Simon grins, something warm and soft fluttering in his chest. Jace looks at him like he’s the stupid one. 

“Of course.” Jace says. “I’ve had you for thirteen years, Lewis, you think I’m ever going to let you go now? Is it not obvious that you’re stuck with me?” 

“It is.” Simon kisses him again, quick and chaste, before he rings the bell, his heart swelling. “It is.” 

.

That night, before they go back home to the apartment, they add a postscript to the graffiti heart: 

P.S. - JH + SL Forever

anonymous asked:

What's up? You can't sell your overpriced jewelries? You deserve it, bitch

I’m sorry you feel that way.

I understand if you feel frustrated that certain pieces are out of your price range, but please understand that for what they are, they are very fairly priced. As an artist I deserve to be paid for my time. (Just like everyone else!) I work very hard to ensure that my pieces come in a large variety of price ranges, so the most people possible can afford to buy them.

I know I am fair, and that’s enough for me. You’re allowed to feel differently, but I kindly ask that you unfollow me, as it clearly upsets you.

I hope you feel better soon.

Originally posted by giphygiff

i’m opening commissions for the first time in 7+ years. yikes lol. this is to help fund me going to SDCC with my buds. since my wrist behaves better with pencil and paper, i’m only opening 1 digital slot [full colour or b/w ] this round. the rest will be traditional pencil art

[i am not offering inked/colours at this time.]

more examples and prices under the cut, cos long post is long.

Keep reading

London is burning

As long as I was able to assess, I knew that this country was deeply flawed. The inequalities screamed louder than the hushes of those who preferred to live in ignorance. I have seen the failure of BME’s, the working class, those of the LGBT community, the youth and even the elderly.

However, it seems to be the issue of class that’s dagger is a deep set wound in this countries side that most overlook. The case of the Grenfell Tower highlights that. No attention was granted to a building housing hundreds of men, women and children. The fire safety of a massive block was overlooked whilst councils assert their attention to multimillion pound private estates. The poor people of London are nothing but a pothole in the road to mouth watering riches for councils.

The saddest part of this tragedy where people begged to be saved from suffocating smoke and flames is that most will now face the issue of displacement. My guess is the remains of people’s homes, their safe spaces and now the final resting places of some said tenants will be bulldozed over. Miraculously sprouting private homes way out of most Londoner’s price range (especially those who benefit from council and housing association homes) to be bought by private investors who may or may not visit every couple of months. The reality of this situation is those who have lost everything may not be offered subsequent housing in the capital. They will be offered homes up north in the likes of Birmingham and Manchester, out of the way of the rich.

It makes you think, does Buckingham Palace need a 370 million revamp for an undemocratic face of state? Or do we need to invest in social housing and look after born and bred Londoners, who receive nothing but discontent from the establishment?

This country has shown me it’s face and it is ugly. It fights for the upholding of inequalities. It fights for the upholding of the ruling classes. Change is needed.

Creepypasta #1095: The Room At The Bottom Of The Stairs

Length: Super long

This is the story of what happened to my family when I was 14. It was the strangest series of experiences I’ve ever had. 

My dad was an abuser. He never really touched me - he mostly ignored me, like I was beneath his notice - but he was terribly cruel to my mother. He never raised his voice or hit her when we were watching, but he would just quietly criticise her in an almost unbroken stream of soft, matter-of-fact verbal abuse. Also, while he may not have done it in front of us, I know he definitely hit her. My mother was - and still is today - a graceful woman. The stories about her tripping on the stairs or slipping on the wet bathroom floor never rang true, and yet we all saw the bruises, the arm in a sling, the band-aids over grazes.

She left him when I was 14 and we were all relieved. I felt no love for him and I had become more and more convinced over the last couple of years that one day he would kill her, and maybe us too. Seriously, he was a frightening man - seemingly soft-spoken, but cold and intense. When stories crop up on the news about fathers snapping and murdering their families, I always imagine my dad could easily have been one of them.

So we left, and I was glad. There were three of us: me, mum, and my big brother Joseph who was a 16 at the time, only a few months off 17. Technically, he was old enough that he could have left home already, but like me he lived in fear of what dad might do without a tall, muscular 17 year old in the house. Joey was a rugby player, a hundred kilos of solid muscle, but the opposite of our father: gentle, sweet, generous. I think it was his growing resentment of our father that pushed mum to leave. She told me years later that she had nightmares about Joey losing it and beating dad to a pulp, ending up in prison.

Mum did her homework as thoroughly as she could. She got the court order in place so dad would be barred from entering the property or coming anywhere near it, and the very next day she had the moving truck and the self-storage unit booked. A soon-to-be homeless unemployed single mother has limited resources, so we had to do all the moving ourselves. That was a long, exhausting day, but it was good, too. Liberating. We knew we were leaving that bastard behind.

Most of our stuff was stored away and we lived for a couple of months with mum’s sister Bella and her husband Steve. Their apartment was small for just the two of them, so with five of us there it was insanely cramped. Mum’s plan was simple enough - get a job, any job, and then find a place to rent - but the job market wasn’t great for a fortysomething single mum who hadn’t worked in almost 20 years.

Thankfully, the government came through with some emergency payments. Between that and Joey’s income from his weekend job, we had enough money coming in that we could maybe think about moving into somewhere very cheap. It wasn’t just the cramped apartment, either. Mum didn’t talk about it much, but she knew that dad knew her sister’s address. A few times the phone would ring in the middle of the night and the caller would hang up without saying anything, so mum was starting to get spooked.

Our stroke of luck came in a matched pair. Mum got a job interview for an office admin position, and it went very well (the interviewer was a sympathetic older woman and mum was very honest about why she was looking for work after such a long break). On the way home on the bus, she saw a “for lease” sign. My mum has always been very spiritual but she was feeling very optimistic and decided the sign was, well, “a sign”. She jumped off at the next bus stop and ran back to check it out.

It was an actual house, not a unit or apartment. Most people in my mother’s position would have walked on, assuming it was out of their price range, but my mother was very observant. The road it was on ran along a kind of ridge between two hilltops, and the house was on the uphill side of the road, nestled in against a fairly steep slope. As such, the back yard was considerably higher up than the street, and the back door was on the same level as the upper storey out the front.

My mother noticed that the exterior of the house - stucco over brick, painted a creamy white - was looking pretty shabby. It was all surface dirt, the kind that would come off easily with a hose and a broom. The fact that nobody had bothered made mum feel certain the house wasn’t getting a lot of love. She took a closer look at the “for lease” sign, swinging from a wooden post in the front yard. Sure enough it was looking very weathered too. She jotted down the phone number and - she confessed to me later - almost skipped back to the bus stop.

Her instincts were good: an unusually frank agent admitted that it had been sitting empty for months and the owners were eager to get a tenant in. The rent they were asking was shockingly low and well within our budget. Mum got the rental approval and a new job on the same day, and we all felt like our troubles were over.

Keep reading

5

Whole Foods Market appreciation post!

Whenever I come to London I take the opportunity to marvel at the glory of this shop. It really does stock a wonderful range of products and it’s a treat to see them so beautifully presented. Much of it is way out of my preferred price range but it’s gorgeous none the less. The freshly ground nut butters, produce, fresh juices and speciality/allergen free products are really wonderful.

EXCITING NEWS!

Yes, that’s right friends! I am officially opening up commissions again! 

I have fifteen slots currently open, and will take them on a first-come, first-serve basis. I prefer payments via Venmo but will also accept them through PayPal.

When it comes to what I will draw, I’m fairly open to whatever, although if it’s a character I am unfamiliar with I will ask you to provide references to make sure I’m getting it right. When it come to what I won’t draw, my only hard-line “NOPE”s are as follows:

  • graphic violence/gore
  • dub-con/non-con
  • excrement
  • NSFW content

Pretty much anything else is on the table, though I reserve the right to refuse a request if it makes me uncomfortable.

Right now I’m looking at about a 4-6 week turnaround on finished pieces, and all art will be digital so unfortunately there won’t be a hard copy. Having said that, I will absolutely provide you with a print-quality file on top of one sized to make it easier to share via the good ol’ internet.

I also offer coordinating header/icon sets without a background for a flat $40 and with backgrounds for a flat $50. If you’d like to “order off menu” so to speak, please feel free to reach out and ask. I’m willing to work out pricing/etc for other types of projects - ex: charcoal drawings, digital paintings, comic pages, etc - but I tend to charge more for that kind of stuff so be aware. 

If you’re interested in securing a commission slot, drop me an ask with your name (or what you prefer to be called), what you would like me to draw for you, and a good way to contact you (whether it’s e-mail or Tumblr messenger or whatever) and I will get back to you within the week.

Additionally, if a commission is outside of your price range, I totally get it. If you’re hopeful to still get a little bit of art from me, I do loads of drawing memes and you’re always welcome to drop suggestions into my ask box, though I make no promises that I’ll get around to everything that pops up therein because time is a finite resource.

I greatly appreciate anyone reblogging this post, as it’s by far the best way for me to get the word out. 

Thanks, all!

- Oz

Well.

Consider my ego well and truly stroked, Kara. Amongst other things. Despite your many promises that you could offer nothing more than kisses, I do remember those hands of yours wandering.

If it’s your intention to drive me crazy and have me beg for all the more that I can’t have yet… job well done, you maddening alien. I suppose I shouldn’t be entirely surprised, you’ve been teasing me for over two years now, whether you realized it or not. The perils of falling for youth and inexperience, I suppose.

In the safety of the distance between us, since you have to work, can I confess something further?

You excite me, Kara. In a way that I rarely suspected I was capable of. Oh, I’m no stranger to the pleasures these bodies of ours can provide. You know I’d never sacrifice quality on that or any other front in my life. It’s just that I’ve never been so consumed by just the thought before, so utterly obsessed with what it might finally be like to be with you that way. To have come so much closer now, with kisses, and hands that touch with just a hint too much hesitation, it’s only adding fuel to a considerable blaze.

It’s motivating me to throw everything I have at this recovery, that’s for damn sure.

Previously I might have been content simply to be worshipped, to offer quid pro quo out of some sense of obligation. Sex has always been so transactional in the past. The price of companionship, with a few perks in the process. A way to get the people I wanted, the family I wanted, the person in question always replaceable in the end. I once jokingly called myself the Pillow Queen of All Media. My ex laughed and didn’t correct me.

But with you? I hope I’m making you blush by telling you how much I want all my strength and range of motion back. I could list the things I want to do to you, Kara, but I fear even my beautiful stationery would combust at the content of it, as surely as if you’d unleashed those fearsome eyes of yours.

That said, if you were to come back as soon as possible, I could whisper some of those things in your ear. Let my lips graze that sensitive spot just beneath that we discovered yesterday. If that’s any kind of incentive to break the sound barrier.

See you soon?

8

hi everybody! im in a lot of pain and dentistry is very expensive, and because i can only secure a part time job in the US of A and barely have any medical coverage, im trying to hustle for some tooth money. 

my teeth, genetically, are very weak. i have soft enamel—soft to the point that my grandfather needed dentures by age 17. combined with a lifetime of panic disorder and years of undiagnosed teeth-grinding (though i finally got a mouthguard!), implants are probably in my future. but for now im trying to get by with a crown or two.

ANYWAY i’m opening ANY PRICE SCRIBBLES along these guidelines!
$1 = Touchpad/receipt doodle, a swampgallows classic!
$5 = Colored MSPaint doodle / refined pencil sketch
$10 = Line art, standard b/w illustration [9 SLOTS REMAINING]
$20 = Flat colors / ink details [5 SLOTS REMAINING]
*$30 = REAL ART TERRITORY. Stippling, shading, color theory; the works.  [[3/3 SLOTS FULL, THANK YOU!]]
$50+ = Whoa what, really? We’ll talk! [[SLOT FILLED, THANK YOU!]]*

i understand these are extremely low prices for the art market!! this is not my attempt to freelance, but rather to give something in return for your generosity. (i want to earn my way!!) HOWEVER the $30+ price ranges are my “serious commission” slots, of which I will reserve three, and one slot for $50+. 

*** I will NOT draw pornography, heavy gore (e.g. disembowelment), advertisements, or works promoting hate speech. “Classical” nudity is permitted, all body types. I reserve the right to refuse requests as I see fit.  ***

PayPal donations/payments, as well as requests, can be sent to swampgallows@gmail.com, or you can message me through tumblr! thanks for your time!

4

More examples at my blog! (check out my art blog: @doodledog2)

Background - depends on how complicated you want the background to be

Adding another person - $5

The above prices are the minimum prices needed. I will give you a set price range after i determine how detailed your drawing will be and we can negotiate the final price within the price range I set.

What I do draw:

  • OC
  • Pairings
  • Fanart

What I don’t draw:

  • NSFW
  • Furries
  • Mecha
  • Gore (little injuries are okay)

Ways of contact:

  • Email
  • Tumblr’s Direct Messaging (preferred option bc I can send msgs faster)
  • Twitter’s Direct Messaging (also preferred option if you know my twitter)

My contact + PayPal email:

doodlefox2x2@gmail.com

PAYMENT AFTER SKETCH! I’ll send the sketch to you, and if there’s no changes, proceed to make the payment to the paypal email provided.

Thank you for the cooperation and support!

(more important info under the cut)

Keep reading

Turns out I can’t get the new medication my doctor prescribed to help with bladder spasms. It’s over one hundred dollars a month.

This is the third medication in four months that I’ve been prescribed that cost over one hundred dollars a month. The third medication I’ve been excited to try to improve my quality of life and had to walk away empty handed.

These medications are to help improve my organs that are no longer working. I need these medicines to function and I can’t get them. I have looked into every coupon and sponser programs and still can’t afford them. All of the meds were still well over fifty dollars.

I partially blame my doctors for prescribing these new medications way out of my price range. They can see I’m on twelve different monthly scripts. That’s a high cost even if they are affordable. But America’s healthcareand pharmaceutical systems are the real culprits.

They’re robbing sick patients of important medications to help them live to fill their own pockets and it’s beyond frustrating. I have to pick and choose what crucial medications I can actually get because I can’t afford them. It’s not fair to patients to extort us for so much money over necessary medications. It’s not fair.

University Fees

I’m starting Uni in september for the first time and I’ve just found out they want me to buy a lot of expensive equipment, together it’s gonna cost me about 200 pounds and I really don’t have that kind of money.

I’m not asking for donations, but I’m asking if anybody wants to commission me or has been thinking about it, now is the BEST time as I’m pretty desperate. That way you can help me out, whilst getting something for yourself too!

My commission prices are listed here and my art can be seen here if you’re interested.

At least signal boost if you can?

Keep reading

Going to the reptile expo promising myself that I’m only going for food never works.

This girl was being sold as a pet only due to a small kink near her tail and she is as sweet as can be. She’s so curious and calm! Her breeder always has such beautiful animals (he also breeds leopard geckos and fat tails. My friend has bought from him in the past) but were a bit out of my price range. There was no way I could pass this treasure up!

I now have 3 “pet only/not suitable to be bred” reptiles. Polly the Leo with ES, Opal the corn who lays “bad eggs” (not convinced she “can’t be bred” but I’m not interested in breeding corns and respect the wishes of the lady I bought her from) and now little kinky red hoggy.

Any ideas on names? My friend suggested Ruby or Garnet to go along with Opal but I’m not sold. There is another hoggy on tumblr named Garnet..